I had a wonderful, although short, vacation with my family last week. Now I am snowed under again. This time the duty is reading for pleasure: I have decided to go to LoneStarCon3, the 71st Annual World Science Fiction Convention, and I have about a week to decide on my votes for the Hugo awards. I've read some of the materials, but there's a lot more to try to get through.
I'll probably post about my votes and reasons after that, but I don't have time for original writing right now. Instead, I'll post the contents of an e-mail I sent out to friends and family in 1998 after Bucconeer, the 56th WorldCon. (Appendix will be posted tomorrow.)
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Thursday, June 20, 2013
What do you do with a graphic novel?
I was telling my sister about Kings in Disguise, a fine graphic novel that follows a boy as he rides the rails during the Great Depression, encountering The Ford Hunger March/Massacre and various other situations, but saying "I read it" seemed inadequate for how I experienced it. One reads a book or an essay, but a graphic novel uses art to inform the text, and text to inform the art. One views a painting or looks at a sculpture, but that's not how one describes the act of, well, going through a graphic novel. Is there a separate word for what you do with a graphic novel? I can't think of one, but it seems as though there should be.
Growing up, I never thought of what I was doing with comic books as anything but reading them, but then again, I was much more focused on the stories than on the artwork. Occasionally, I would stop and admire a particularly well-executed panel, but to me, they were basically densely illustrated short stories. I was more interested in what Spider-Man was doing than in what he looked like while he was doing it -- of course, subconsciously I was taking in many details about the atmosphere and situation and perspective while I was skimming through the pages, and I realize that many people did and do care much more about the art of comics/graphic novels than I did at the time, but the story was what I focused on then.
I stopped following comics regularly sometime after Marvel started publishing about five versions of Spider-Man and at least three of X-Men -- I couldn't keep up, monetarily or temporally. However, in college my friends introduced me to other, independently published comics (not Marvel or DC), expanding beyond superhero struggles to new stories ranging from A Distant Soil (dystopian SF featuring some openly gay major characters, revolutionary back then!) to the beginnings of "true" graphic novels such as the Pulitzer-winning Maus.
A couple of years ago, my county library started developing collections of graphic novels, and I caught up on some classics and began broadening my horizons with new ones. This is where I found James Vance's "Kings in Disguise" recently.
Lots of definitions of graphic novels exist. Some people just consider the term a pretentious renaming of comic books, and there are plenty of publications called graphic novels that are simply hardcover volumes that bundle runs of regular periodical comics. I prefer to use the term to refer to a novelistic, stand-alone story, or at least a well-defined, self-contained arc within a series, told through a combination of artwork and words.
But again, what is it that you do with a graphic novel, to experience the story? What naturally occurs to me is "read," although that seems too limited, so I'll do what I often do and check out definitions and origins.
The very first listing from Merriam-Webster is "to receive or take in the sense of (as letters or symbols) especially by sight or touch." Huh, that's actually not very limited at all. There are about 30 other definitions and sub-definitions of the word. Maybe it's not that the word "read" is too limited, it's just that I've been thinking of it in unnecessarily narrow terms.
The Online Etymology Dictionary says that the word "read" comes from quite a number of roots, ranging from Old English to proto-Germanic to Old Church Slavonic, mostly meaning something along the lines of to advise or consider. It started to be seen in writing with the meaning of "to make out the character of (a person)" in the 1600s, and was gradually transformed into interpretation of written symbols after that. Aha, here's something pertinent: "Most languages use a word rooted in the idea of "gather up" as their word for "read" (cf. French lire, from Latin legere)." So other languages use different words -- obviously, but coming from different roots, to describe the act that English speakers call reading. Maybe they'd be even more applicable!
I'd be interested to find out what other languages do with the concept of graphic novels. I have a germ of German and a speck of Spanish, but neither kernel of knowledge extends to nuances. Do Japanese people simply "read" manga, or do they use some word separate from "reading" that explicitly combines interpreting text with looking at art? Can any of my multilingual readers tell me?
Edited to Add:
Coincidentally, I just ran across an interview with James Vance, the author of "Kings in Disguise."
Tom Spurgeon at "The Comics Reporter" interviews him about his recent KiD sequel, "On the Ropes" (which is actually based on a play he wrote before KiD), but he also asks him about KiD:
JV: "The truth is, I thought of it in terms of a collected work from day one, and that's the way we approached it. If you look at those individual comics, you'll see there's no concession to serialization in the story itself, no cliffhangers or any of the mechanics that you see in regular monthly comic books."
When he's asked about OtR, he discusses the labor movement as well as how his characters make their decisions and realize the consequences -- fascinating. I hope I get a chance to read OtR, too.
Growing up, I never thought of what I was doing with comic books as anything but reading them, but then again, I was much more focused on the stories than on the artwork. Occasionally, I would stop and admire a particularly well-executed panel, but to me, they were basically densely illustrated short stories. I was more interested in what Spider-Man was doing than in what he looked like while he was doing it -- of course, subconsciously I was taking in many details about the atmosphere and situation and perspective while I was skimming through the pages, and I realize that many people did and do care much more about the art of comics/graphic novels than I did at the time, but the story was what I focused on then.
I stopped following comics regularly sometime after Marvel started publishing about five versions of Spider-Man and at least three of X-Men -- I couldn't keep up, monetarily or temporally. However, in college my friends introduced me to other, independently published comics (not Marvel or DC), expanding beyond superhero struggles to new stories ranging from A Distant Soil (dystopian SF featuring some openly gay major characters, revolutionary back then!) to the beginnings of "true" graphic novels such as the Pulitzer-winning Maus.
A couple of years ago, my county library started developing collections of graphic novels, and I caught up on some classics and began broadening my horizons with new ones. This is where I found James Vance's "Kings in Disguise" recently.
Lots of definitions of graphic novels exist. Some people just consider the term a pretentious renaming of comic books, and there are plenty of publications called graphic novels that are simply hardcover volumes that bundle runs of regular periodical comics. I prefer to use the term to refer to a novelistic, stand-alone story, or at least a well-defined, self-contained arc within a series, told through a combination of artwork and words.
But again, what is it that you do with a graphic novel, to experience the story? What naturally occurs to me is "read," although that seems too limited, so I'll do what I often do and check out definitions and origins.
The very first listing from Merriam-Webster is "to receive or take in the sense of (as letters or symbols) especially by sight or touch." Huh, that's actually not very limited at all. There are about 30 other definitions and sub-definitions of the word. Maybe it's not that the word "read" is too limited, it's just that I've been thinking of it in unnecessarily narrow terms.
The Online Etymology Dictionary says that the word "read" comes from quite a number of roots, ranging from Old English to proto-Germanic to Old Church Slavonic, mostly meaning something along the lines of to advise or consider. It started to be seen in writing with the meaning of "to make out the character of (a person)" in the 1600s, and was gradually transformed into interpretation of written symbols after that. Aha, here's something pertinent: "Most languages use a word rooted in the idea of "gather up" as their word for "read" (cf. French lire, from Latin legere)." So other languages use different words -- obviously, but coming from different roots, to describe the act that English speakers call reading. Maybe they'd be even more applicable!
I'd be interested to find out what other languages do with the concept of graphic novels. I have a germ of German and a speck of Spanish, but neither kernel of knowledge extends to nuances. Do Japanese people simply "read" manga, or do they use some word separate from "reading" that explicitly combines interpreting text with looking at art? Can any of my multilingual readers tell me?
Edited to Add:
Coincidentally, I just ran across an interview with James Vance, the author of "Kings in Disguise."
Tom Spurgeon at "The Comics Reporter" interviews him about his recent KiD sequel, "On the Ropes" (which is actually based on a play he wrote before KiD), but he also asks him about KiD:
JV: "The truth is, I thought of it in terms of a collected work from day one, and that's the way we approached it. If you look at those individual comics, you'll see there's no concession to serialization in the story itself, no cliffhangers or any of the mechanics that you see in regular monthly comic books."
When he's asked about OtR, he discusses the labor movement as well as how his characters make their decisions and realize the consequences -- fascinating. I hope I get a chance to read OtR, too.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Memory and strings
"Tie a string around your finger."
This is an old-fashioned memory prompt from before when memos started arriving via PDAs, computer calendars and smartphones -- you tie a string around your finger to help you remember that you're supposed to remember something. It doesn't tell you what you're supposed to remember, mind you, but at least you'll be aware of the need. Sooner or later, it will chafe, or you'll just happen to notice it, and maybe at that point, you'll be able to buy milk on the way home, or otherwise accomplish whatever deed you could only remind yourself about before.
In the modern era, of course, strings have another meaning related to memory. A string is a linear artifact with a beginning and an end; in computer coding, a string is a sequence of characters. A character string generally stands for something; it can represent a variable or a constant, and you (or your computer code) can manipulate it or compare it with other strings in order to make a decision.
One type of character string that many people use daily is a password. You must enter all the password's characters in their correct sequence, like the numbers for a combination lock, except that here you're matching a data string instead of clicking tumblers.
I was thinking a few days ago about the character strings I hold in my own memory. I used to remember a lot of telephone numbers, for my office, my home, my parents, and several other relatives and a few friends. Now I know only two full telephone numbers -- my home and my cell -- and four-digit office extensions for myself and two other people. Everything else is stored in my cell or written down somewhere.
However, there's a lot else I have to remember: My work terminal password, my work software ID and password, my work email password, and a few other strings that I use daily for work; at home, I have a couple more e-mail accounts, four social media accounts, and several more log-ons that I use often enough to hold in my memory, all with different IDs and passwords, plus my Social Security number, PIN, and some more identifiers.
So even though I feel a little silly sometimes because I don't know anybody's phone number anymore, I need to remember that actually I'm giving my memory a pretty good workout most days. I'm counting 32 strings, although I may have forgotten one or two!
How about you? Can you count up how many character strings you use often enough to carry around in your head? Tell me! If you don't have time to tally them up right now, well, maybe you can just tie a string around your finger.
This is an old-fashioned memory prompt from before when memos started arriving via PDAs, computer calendars and smartphones -- you tie a string around your finger to help you remember that you're supposed to remember something. It doesn't tell you what you're supposed to remember, mind you, but at least you'll be aware of the need. Sooner or later, it will chafe, or you'll just happen to notice it, and maybe at that point, you'll be able to buy milk on the way home, or otherwise accomplish whatever deed you could only remind yourself about before.
In the modern era, of course, strings have another meaning related to memory. A string is a linear artifact with a beginning and an end; in computer coding, a string is a sequence of characters. A character string generally stands for something; it can represent a variable or a constant, and you (or your computer code) can manipulate it or compare it with other strings in order to make a decision.
One type of character string that many people use daily is a password. You must enter all the password's characters in their correct sequence, like the numbers for a combination lock, except that here you're matching a data string instead of clicking tumblers.
I was thinking a few days ago about the character strings I hold in my own memory. I used to remember a lot of telephone numbers, for my office, my home, my parents, and several other relatives and a few friends. Now I know only two full telephone numbers -- my home and my cell -- and four-digit office extensions for myself and two other people. Everything else is stored in my cell or written down somewhere.
However, there's a lot else I have to remember: My work terminal password, my work software ID and password, my work email password, and a few other strings that I use daily for work; at home, I have a couple more e-mail accounts, four social media accounts, and several more log-ons that I use often enough to hold in my memory, all with different IDs and passwords, plus my Social Security number, PIN, and some more identifiers.
So even though I feel a little silly sometimes because I don't know anybody's phone number anymore, I need to remember that actually I'm giving my memory a pretty good workout most days. I'm counting 32 strings, although I may have forgotten one or two!
How about you? Can you count up how many character strings you use often enough to carry around in your head? Tell me! If you don't have time to tally them up right now, well, maybe you can just tie a string around your finger.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Compale (a portmanteau)
I was in a meeting Tuesday and the guy next to me stumbled over his words, saying something would "compale -- I mean, pale in comparison to" something else. I knew what he meant by "compale" before he went on to correct himself; it seemed perfectly obvious to me.
I rather like the idea of "compale" being a word of its own -- it's a little more efficient than the parent phrase, and I can't think of any other single word that already exists to fit this niche. Although its spelling is nearly identical to "compile," the pronunciation is quite different, so I don't think it would be too confusing.
I am going to look for an opportunity to use this in conversation sometime, and see what kind of reaction I get.
I'm thinking of it as an intransitive verb, used with the preposition "to" -- e.g., Jean Grey's Marvel Girl compales to her incarnation as The Phoenix, at least as far as power is concerned. If I used it as a transitive verb, which takes and acts on a direct object, that would seem too active, as if I should be using it the other way around (The Phoenix compales Marvel Girl). I want to keep the subject as the weaker, more faded counterpart, as in the original phrase, so I'll make the verb intransitive, not transitive.
Compale would be an example of a portmanteau word, a new word created by combining parts of two or more words to make a new one that also fuses their meanings. This is a little different from a contraction, which uses an apostrophe to signal that two words that normally go in sequence are being compressed into one, or a compound word, which simply runs two words together, with or without a hyphen.
A portmanteau is similar to an elision, which omits sounds within a word or phrase for laziness, to fit a poetic meter, or simply because the speaker thinks it sounds better that way. However, eliding a word or phrase doesn't change the meaning, whereas a portmanteau often tweaks the meaning of the parent words so that the definition is also slightly different, although related. For instance, "spork" is a portmanteau word combined from spoon and fork, but it's a little different from each.
What do you think of my plan to try putting "compale" into usage? Do you have a favorite portmanteau word you'd like to share with me?
I rather like the idea of "compale" being a word of its own -- it's a little more efficient than the parent phrase, and I can't think of any other single word that already exists to fit this niche. Although its spelling is nearly identical to "compile," the pronunciation is quite different, so I don't think it would be too confusing.
I am going to look for an opportunity to use this in conversation sometime, and see what kind of reaction I get.
I'm thinking of it as an intransitive verb, used with the preposition "to" -- e.g., Jean Grey's Marvel Girl compales to her incarnation as The Phoenix, at least as far as power is concerned. If I used it as a transitive verb, which takes and acts on a direct object, that would seem too active, as if I should be using it the other way around (The Phoenix compales Marvel Girl). I want to keep the subject as the weaker, more faded counterpart, as in the original phrase, so I'll make the verb intransitive, not transitive.
Compale would be an example of a portmanteau word, a new word created by combining parts of two or more words to make a new one that also fuses their meanings. This is a little different from a contraction, which uses an apostrophe to signal that two words that normally go in sequence are being compressed into one, or a compound word, which simply runs two words together, with or without a hyphen.
A portmanteau is similar to an elision, which omits sounds within a word or phrase for laziness, to fit a poetic meter, or simply because the speaker thinks it sounds better that way. However, eliding a word or phrase doesn't change the meaning, whereas a portmanteau often tweaks the meaning of the parent words so that the definition is also slightly different, although related. For instance, "spork" is a portmanteau word combined from spoon and fork, but it's a little different from each.
What do you think of my plan to try putting "compale" into usage? Do you have a favorite portmanteau word you'd like to share with me?
Friday, May 3, 2013
Holding Pattern: A Villanelle
Now that "Iron Man 3" is out, I can finally admit that I was an extra! They made us sign fierce nondisclosure agreements, so I wasn't able to talk about it before. I'm still not going to say much, to avoid spoilers, but I wanted to share at least a little bit. As for what it was like being an extra, the two previous posts ("Ready for my close-up, Mr. Wells?" and "I Am (Not) A Camera") talk a lot about my experience in a previous production, except that one wasn't so secretive (no NDA).
I didn't keep an exhaustive log for this production, but I did write a poem. I chose the villanelle form because the back-and-forth weaving and repetition of the refrain lines seemed to capture the mood of the extras as we went from Holding to the set to Holding to the set to Holding again so many times. Back in August 2012, I could only share it within a secret, closed group on Facebook for the IM3 extras. I hope my readers here like it as much as they did.
Holding Pattern: A Villanelle
by Patricia E. Matson
Hope is hovering in our hearts:
Some screen time, and a check, our goals.
We want so much to play our parts.
We speculate on Casting’s charts
And wonder how we’ll fill their holes;
Hope is hovering in our hearts.
Some are here for love of the arts;
A few might even sell their souls,
They long so much for bumped-up parts.
We move on set; star-watching starts --
We see HIM!
Crew says, “Back, you proles!”
But hope still hovers in our hearts.
Off at Holding, the wait restarts;
Food, cards, songs, dance, all have their roles.
We wait our turns to play our parts.
The magic nighttime rush departs.
Nine, then midnight, 3 a.m. tolls
While hope still hovers in our hearts;
We want so much to play our parts.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
I Am (Not) A Camera
As promised, here is Part 2 of my description of working as an extra for the untitled medical drama pilot produced by John Wells in 2010. I originally posted this on Facebook on April 2, 2010, for my friends there, but I have decided to make it public here. As mentioned in Part 1, I was not asked to sign any nondisclosure agreement for that work, nor did they warn us on set to keep things confidential (IIRC, they basically just warned us about not going up and bugging the stars). I mostly talked about my experience, anyway; I did briefly talk about one plot point, below, but I didn't say who it happened to, and since the show sadly never made it on the air, and everyone has gone on to other projects, I don't see any harm in sharing this with a wider audience.
As recounted in my previous note and last status report, I've been working as an extra on the CBS pilot for its untitled medical drama. This week, Monday through Thursday, I put in four 12-hour-plus days. I'm glad to have done it, but I'm really glad to be off this weekend. The days were all starting to run together, and I was having some breathing issues.
Best part of the experience: the people. Worst: never-ending Scene 57 and its smoke machine.
Monday at 8:30 a.m. I had been cold Friday night, so I wore the wool lining in my parka shell that day, which I regretted once it heated up. After sign-in, makeup (not for me), hair (conditioner to make my hair look unwashed, much nicer than the grease they used last week), props (none for me) and breakfast, we started off with a lot of time in the hospital tent. I was part of a group of patients following a nurse around the floor until we finally got seated. A half-dozen other streams of doctors, patients and nurses were moving around at the same time. As we kept repeating our motions, it started to feel as though we were doing a large pattern dance, like a reel or contra hay. Big lunch around 1 (forgettable entree but yummy ratatouille). Monday afternoon, we were in the holding area a lot. I made the acquaintance of Karen, Karen, Sue and Michael. I listened to lots of jokes, although I don't remember contributing any. That evening, barricade work. Sue and I were pulled off to be overnight patients. They set us up in hospital beds, but then sent everyone off to hide in cars and buses because of lightning. They gave up and sent us all home at 9:30. Laundry (since we wore the same clothes every day), and bed.
Tuesday at 8 a.m. After breakfast, much more barricade work. I believe we first heard it called Scene 57 this day. There were other barricade scenes, but they kept shooting us here and there, morning, noon, and night, with that awful smoke machine that left us all coughing and blowing black phlegm, so they all became Scene 57. After a big lunch (catfish and black-eyed peas, mmm) at 3, when I joined my new acquaintances, they left us in the holding area for quite a while. One of the Karens offered some little kids a buck for their deck of cards, which they refused. Rosella and John from another table heard us, came over and pulled out cards. We played rummy and spades. Then everyone went into the hospital tent again. I sat in the third row back, which left me wistful as Skeet Ulrich came up and talked with people in the first two rows between takes, but softly so that I could catch only a few phrases. I will say that he has a very expressive face, mobile and interested. He flashed a couple of great-looking grins, too. I hope that the show makes use of his charm and humor, although all the scenes I saw him in just had him looking intense.
I asked one of the Hoggard alums I had met last week what they had discussed, and he said Skeet had talked about his return to Wilmington and how the area had changed, and also talked with an EMT guy about rugby. He also talked to a couple of girls but I didn't find out about those topics.
Then they staged a spectacular fight scene, again and again and again. I was loving it. Skeet and Janeane Garofalo broke up the fight between the two guys I didn't recognize. I admired the guy who took a chest-high flip-fall half a dozen times or so, without complaint and apparently without injury (at least, he kept saying he was fine when the crew and other actors kept asking him). They kept changing the angle and shooting the lead-up and aftermath, maybe 20 times in all. They sent us home around 9:45. Laundry again.
Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. After breakfast, more card games in the holding area. More barricade work; the Karens and I discussed love and marriage, and Mike chipped in occasionally. We also talked about our career prospects (all in temporary/in-between states now). The big lunch (flank steak, Tex-Mex side dishes, mmm) was around 4:30. After that, we did a lot more barricade scenes. Earlier this week, I had been trying to stay forward, but I was starting to hang back, worried about continuity, although they grabbed me and moved me forward several times anyway. Karen, Karen and I, and a guy calling himself Thunderbird, amused ourselves by singing fragments of songs from the 80s, mostly, but some from other areas. Finally Sue and I got called back for our overnight patient scenes. I had to pretend to be asleep, so I didn't see anything, but I heard a couple of medical personnel (I think Janeane and Rachelle Lefevre) arguing about treatment options. We got sent home around midnight, so I skipped laundry.
Thursday sign-in was at 10 a.m. We started with hospital waiting area scenes. A guy next to me got pulled up front and left his Civil War hardback (Marvel superhero series) on his chair, so I read about half of it (okay, but I don't believe Peter Parker would ever come out as a super) before they chased us out to keep it quiet for dialogue-heavy scenes.
I talked with K, K, M for a while, but I was feeling tired and burned out, so I found a patch of shade with some breezes and just listened to my audiobook (Antony and Cleopatra, Colleen McCullough) and dozed for a couple of hours. Around 4, they brought out pizza, but only let the actors playing medics go up (I snatched a slice before this class differentiation was firmly established, however).
I rejoined KKM. More barricade scenes, all still in our winter coats for continuity, although it was over 80 degrees. Bonanza Productions had been telling us to take them off between takes, and sending people around with cups of water, along with pizza slivers, plus the ever-present snack/water/lemonade stand. I heard that one woman fainted from the heat, although I didn't see it.
Then they moved us to the parking lot and shot us walking toward the hospital tent several times (moving the smoke machine so we couldn't escape). Finally, around 7, they broke for "lunch" (sweet and sour chicken, big drop in quality, and the rice tasted like smoke machine). Rosella came over and sang a few songs, and I sang a few songs. Finally, they pulled 10 patient extras (including me again, despite making absolutely no effort to be noticed), to form background for another hospital tent scene. They sent us home around 11:30.
They will continue filming on Monday, but I told them I couldn't make it then or Tuesday because of my other job. If I'm feeling fully recovered by Tuesday, I may call and see if they need anybody for Wednesday, although they're supposed to have finished by then.
***
As recounted in my previous note and last status report, I've been working as an extra on the CBS pilot for its untitled medical drama. This week, Monday through Thursday, I put in four 12-hour-plus days. I'm glad to have done it, but I'm really glad to be off this weekend. The days were all starting to run together, and I was having some breathing issues.
Best part of the experience: the people. Worst: never-ending Scene 57 and its smoke machine.
Monday at 8:30 a.m. I had been cold Friday night, so I wore the wool lining in my parka shell that day, which I regretted once it heated up. After sign-in, makeup (not for me), hair (conditioner to make my hair look unwashed, much nicer than the grease they used last week), props (none for me) and breakfast, we started off with a lot of time in the hospital tent. I was part of a group of patients following a nurse around the floor until we finally got seated. A half-dozen other streams of doctors, patients and nurses were moving around at the same time. As we kept repeating our motions, it started to feel as though we were doing a large pattern dance, like a reel or contra hay. Big lunch around 1 (forgettable entree but yummy ratatouille). Monday afternoon, we were in the holding area a lot. I made the acquaintance of Karen, Karen, Sue and Michael. I listened to lots of jokes, although I don't remember contributing any. That evening, barricade work. Sue and I were pulled off to be overnight patients. They set us up in hospital beds, but then sent everyone off to hide in cars and buses because of lightning. They gave up and sent us all home at 9:30. Laundry (since we wore the same clothes every day), and bed.
Tuesday at 8 a.m. After breakfast, much more barricade work. I believe we first heard it called Scene 57 this day. There were other barricade scenes, but they kept shooting us here and there, morning, noon, and night, with that awful smoke machine that left us all coughing and blowing black phlegm, so they all became Scene 57. After a big lunch (catfish and black-eyed peas, mmm) at 3, when I joined my new acquaintances, they left us in the holding area for quite a while. One of the Karens offered some little kids a buck for their deck of cards, which they refused. Rosella and John from another table heard us, came over and pulled out cards. We played rummy and spades. Then everyone went into the hospital tent again. I sat in the third row back, which left me wistful as Skeet Ulrich came up and talked with people in the first two rows between takes, but softly so that I could catch only a few phrases. I will say that he has a very expressive face, mobile and interested. He flashed a couple of great-looking grins, too. I hope that the show makes use of his charm and humor, although all the scenes I saw him in just had him looking intense.
I asked one of the Hoggard alums I had met last week what they had discussed, and he said Skeet had talked about his return to Wilmington and how the area had changed, and also talked with an EMT guy about rugby. He also talked to a couple of girls but I didn't find out about those topics.
Then they staged a spectacular fight scene, again and again and again. I was loving it. Skeet and Janeane Garofalo broke up the fight between the two guys I didn't recognize. I admired the guy who took a chest-high flip-fall half a dozen times or so, without complaint and apparently without injury (at least, he kept saying he was fine when the crew and other actors kept asking him). They kept changing the angle and shooting the lead-up and aftermath, maybe 20 times in all. They sent us home around 9:45. Laundry again.
Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. After breakfast, more card games in the holding area. More barricade work; the Karens and I discussed love and marriage, and Mike chipped in occasionally. We also talked about our career prospects (all in temporary/in-between states now). The big lunch (flank steak, Tex-Mex side dishes, mmm) was around 4:30. After that, we did a lot more barricade scenes. Earlier this week, I had been trying to stay forward, but I was starting to hang back, worried about continuity, although they grabbed me and moved me forward several times anyway. Karen, Karen and I, and a guy calling himself Thunderbird, amused ourselves by singing fragments of songs from the 80s, mostly, but some from other areas. Finally Sue and I got called back for our overnight patient scenes. I had to pretend to be asleep, so I didn't see anything, but I heard a couple of medical personnel (I think Janeane and Rachelle Lefevre) arguing about treatment options. We got sent home around midnight, so I skipped laundry.
Thursday sign-in was at 10 a.m. We started with hospital waiting area scenes. A guy next to me got pulled up front and left his Civil War hardback (Marvel superhero series) on his chair, so I read about half of it (okay, but I don't believe Peter Parker would ever come out as a super) before they chased us out to keep it quiet for dialogue-heavy scenes.
I talked with K, K, M for a while, but I was feeling tired and burned out, so I found a patch of shade with some breezes and just listened to my audiobook (Antony and Cleopatra, Colleen McCullough) and dozed for a couple of hours. Around 4, they brought out pizza, but only let the actors playing medics go up (I snatched a slice before this class differentiation was firmly established, however).
I rejoined KKM. More barricade scenes, all still in our winter coats for continuity, although it was over 80 degrees. Bonanza Productions had been telling us to take them off between takes, and sending people around with cups of water, along with pizza slivers, plus the ever-present snack/water/lemonade stand. I heard that one woman fainted from the heat, although I didn't see it.
Then they moved us to the parking lot and shot us walking toward the hospital tent several times (moving the smoke machine so we couldn't escape). Finally, around 7, they broke for "lunch" (sweet and sour chicken, big drop in quality, and the rice tasted like smoke machine). Rosella came over and sang a few songs, and I sang a few songs. Finally, they pulled 10 patient extras (including me again, despite making absolutely no effort to be noticed), to form background for another hospital tent scene. They sent us home around 11:30.
They will continue filming on Monday, but I told them I couldn't make it then or Tuesday because of my other job. If I'm feeling fully recovered by Tuesday, I may call and see if they need anybody for Wednesday, although they're supposed to have finished by then.
***
End note: No, I didn't get called back again, so this was the end of that experience. By the way, when they first called and asked me to be an extra and I accepted, they said nothing about needing me for a specific block of time, just asked whether I could come in the next day. They never did ask for commitments; it was always, "We'll tell you all at the end of the day how many of you we want to come back tomorrow, and what time." So it's not as though they were relying on me and I let them down. I just wanted to make that clear.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Ready for my close-up, Mr. Wells?
So many ideas, so little time to write them up. I'm still working on balancing my job and everything else.
Meanwhile, I'm resurrecting a Note that I posted to Facebook on March 24, 2010. Only my FB friends can read that, but there's really no reason not to make it public here. I'll put up Part 2 tomorrow.
I can now add "Acting" to my resume, under Professional Experience. Thanks, Catherine, for pointing out the article about an open casting call in Wilmington for extras for The Untitled Medical Drama pilot. As a result, I have now conversed briefly with Janeane Garofalo, felt the wind of Skeet Ulrich's passage as he strode along a corridor, been filmed in several scenes (one seems likely to be aired) and earned a check. I did not see Sissy Spacek yet, but I may go back for more opportunities later.
The CBS show, which so far lacks even a working title, is a John Wells production. He's responsible for my current favorite, SouthLAnd, which started on NBC and is now a TNT show (fits in well with the “Characters Welcome” campaign). This one is about some kind of mobile medical team that travels the U.S. to help with crises. (Whatever title they pick, it can hardly be worse than Medical Investigation, which was a 2004-2005 show about a CDC-style team that investigated mysterious outbreaks around the country. Hmmm…)
After seeing that story, I showed up for an open casting call two Sundays ago. They didn't hold auditions, just had hundreds of people fill out information cards and get pictures taken. More than 600 people applied that Saturday; I don’t know that Sunday’s total. Last Thursday, I got voicemail that my photo had been lost, so I e-mailed my FB icon and my DragonCon scrubs-costume picture to them. Monday night at 11, I got a phone call asking if I could be at Winnabow Airport at 6 a.m. Tuesday to be an extra, portraying a patient. I assembled several casual outfits, as requested, but could not get to sleep for a while since I had unfortunately taken a nap earlier.
I dragged myself out of bed around 4:45 and arrived on time (yay, Sarah’s GPS!), checked in at the registration/food tent and was told to wait for a voucher form before going to Wardrobe or Makeup. I ignored the continental breakfast, since it was way before my usual breakfast time. Some guys in the National Guard section of extras called out to me, “Hey, did you go to Hoggard? Class of ’84?” So I had a nice little chat with them, including Tony Ross (didn’t catch the others’ names).
It turned out that Bonanza Productions hadn’t printed enough vouchers for the 300-plus extras (portraying patients, medical personnel, volunteers and National Guards), so eventually the unvouchered “patient” extras had our outfits checked by someone from Wardrobe. I didn’t end up changing outfits, though, and received no makeup; I think only people with “injuries” got anything applied. Then we all streamed over to the hospital tent, which was huge. It was compartmentalized into several successive waiting areas, reception/triage, and a treatment room with several specialized areas.
I was excited to get to the front row right before triage, since I thought that would improve my chances of appearing on the show. I practiced ad-lib and pantomime dialogue with my neighbors; they had us make a lot of noise for background first, and then had us be mute while the actual actors spoke lines.
Then they had several people stand up in front of the triage desks, blocking me. However, I subsequently had the amusement of watching Janeane Garofalo (Mystery Men, 24, The West Wing, etc.) yell “Cuff, I need a cuff!” about 10 times or so. She is a tiny woman, but intense and energetic.
By the way, if you’ve ever read anything about TV or filmmaking, you’ll have heard that it involves hours of waiting and repetition to make clips that last just a few seconds. I can tell you that this is true, based on my extensive sample of two experiences as an extra. ;-)
I never realized that sitting and standing around for a day could be so exhausting.
While Janeane (none of the production crew called her Ms. Garofalo) waited for her forays, she made friends with Larkin, a service dog for a “patient” extra who was using a wheelchair (real, not a prop/role). I think she checked with Larkin’s owner (you’re not supposed to interfere with service dogs that are “working”), but anyway the owner didn’t seem to mind the petting and sweet-talking that Larkin received.
My conversation with Janeane (pronounced Jeh-NEEN) consisted of her asking me later whether the lady with the dog was still here, and my saying I thought she was, back in the waiting area, and gesturing toward that side. That is all. Janeane sneaked back to pet Larkin several more times during the day and one last time on her way out, receiving enthusiastic welcomes from the dog. I commented to the owner that this appeared to be stress relief for both Janeane and Larkin.
After the last “Cuff, I need a cuff!” iteration, they had the extras take a break so they could do some rearrangements inside. We stood around in the sunshine and warmed up. Some of us, including me, stood in front of a big (warm) outdoor floodlight as well. We joked about getting sunburnt by it, but when I got home and looked in a mirror, I realized that it had happened to me. Aloe time!
I had a nice conversation with Casey (K.C.?), an aspiring actor who has been an extra for One Tree Hill and is also in some plays. He urged me to consider creative writing as a career, since I mentioned the woes of the journalism industry.
After the break, I got tapped to move into the treatment area. I sat in a chair while Ken (whose medical nametag said Mike) pretended to take my pulse and tried to make me laugh with his whispered/pantomimed dialogue. I resisted as best I could, hissing, “This is not a joke! Don’t patronize me, Doctor, I need help!” Our little contest was rather fun, albeit risky.
Then (1 p.m.) everybody broke for lunch, with a choice of herbed chicken or salmon chimmichurro (yum!), salad, potatoes, broccoli and brownies. Another film/TV rumor I can “confirm” is the ample food on set. All day, they had tables of snacks set up, in addition to the catered breakfast and lunch. (Even at Fiddler’s Creek Production’s zombie commercial shooting this winter, where I volunteered as an extra, pizza, chips and candy bars were plenteous.) During lunch, Bonanza finally got the voucher forms to everyone.
After lunch, we moved back to our places. I got moved from my patient/pulse role to stand behind a long table with some other patient/lookie-loos as we were filmed all agog watching Skeet Ulrich’s big scene (multiple times). There were plenty of other people in the scene, including Janeane and Twilight actress Rachelle Lefevre, but he was the center of that scene. Ulrich (Jericho, Scream; incidentally, the nephew of retired NASCAR driver Ricky Rudd) looks very tall rushing through a doorway and shouting, but fairly average-sized when standing quietly. He must just have a command presence that acts as a size multiplier.
I won’t say what was happening in this crucial scene, although the production company didn’t make us sign nondisclosure agreements. I think my little tidbits here about the production process are harmless, but I just don’t feel it would be fair for me to give plot spoilers.
They had us break again after that. I wasn’t in the background this time, but I stood as close to the treatment area as I could, so I could go on watching. Then they told the back half of the room full of extras that they could go home. I felt lucky to stay.
I sat and talked with Larkin’s owner. Someone else said she heard a rumor that Sissy Spacek had been spotted in Wilmington and was joining this show. I said that was really unlikely, since it would have been all over the news if she had.
Then the crew came back and picked some more people, including me, for background. I hope they cut the other clips that have me, for continuity, but keep this one! They had extras watching the big scene again, but this time we formed a sort of corridor. We reacted as the scene progressed. At the end, Skeet Ulrich strode along between us, passing just inches from me.
Then they had the extras sit down again while they shot more close-ups of the scene. Finally, they ended filming for the night, and started processing the extras’ paperwork. They asked us all to come back. I got out of there at 8:30.
Sadly, I have real work on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons (as opposed to play-work on set), so I couldn’t commit to either of those days. However, they told me to call on Thursday to see if I can go again on Friday, and maybe next week.
Once I got home, I checked online and discovered that yes, Sissy Spacek is indeed joining the cast. Yay for the show’s visibility! Maybe SouthLAnd’s critical raves helped convince her to sign up for this. http://www.starnewsonline.com/article/20100323/ARTICLES/100329920
If entertainment chatter bores you, I hope you stopped reading long ago. I enjoyed the day quite a bit, and I hope some of my friends and relatives appreciate this one-day immersion in the Wilmington TV experience.
Meanwhile, I'm resurrecting a Note that I posted to Facebook on March 24, 2010. Only my FB friends can read that, but there's really no reason not to make it public here. I'll put up Part 2 tomorrow.
I can now add "Acting" to my resume, under Professional Experience. Thanks, Catherine, for pointing out the article about an open casting call in Wilmington for extras for The Untitled Medical Drama pilot. As a result, I have now conversed briefly with Janeane Garofalo, felt the wind of Skeet Ulrich's passage as he strode along a corridor, been filmed in several scenes (one seems likely to be aired) and earned a check. I did not see Sissy Spacek yet, but I may go back for more opportunities later.
The CBS show, which so far lacks even a working title, is a John Wells production. He's responsible for my current favorite, SouthLAnd, which started on NBC and is now a TNT show (fits in well with the “Characters Welcome” campaign). This one is about some kind of mobile medical team that travels the U.S. to help with crises. (Whatever title they pick, it can hardly be worse than Medical Investigation, which was a 2004-2005 show about a CDC-style team that investigated mysterious outbreaks around the country. Hmmm…)
After seeing that story, I showed up for an open casting call two Sundays ago. They didn't hold auditions, just had hundreds of people fill out information cards and get pictures taken. More than 600 people applied that Saturday; I don’t know that Sunday’s total. Last Thursday, I got voicemail that my photo had been lost, so I e-mailed my FB icon and my DragonCon scrubs-costume picture to them. Monday night at 11, I got a phone call asking if I could be at Winnabow Airport at 6 a.m. Tuesday to be an extra, portraying a patient. I assembled several casual outfits, as requested, but could not get to sleep for a while since I had unfortunately taken a nap earlier.
I dragged myself out of bed around 4:45 and arrived on time (yay, Sarah’s GPS!), checked in at the registration/food tent and was told to wait for a voucher form before going to Wardrobe or Makeup. I ignored the continental breakfast, since it was way before my usual breakfast time. Some guys in the National Guard section of extras called out to me, “Hey, did you go to Hoggard? Class of ’84?” So I had a nice little chat with them, including Tony Ross (didn’t catch the others’ names).
It turned out that Bonanza Productions hadn’t printed enough vouchers for the 300-plus extras (portraying patients, medical personnel, volunteers and National Guards), so eventually the unvouchered “patient” extras had our outfits checked by someone from Wardrobe. I didn’t end up changing outfits, though, and received no makeup; I think only people with “injuries” got anything applied. Then we all streamed over to the hospital tent, which was huge. It was compartmentalized into several successive waiting areas, reception/triage, and a treatment room with several specialized areas.
I was excited to get to the front row right before triage, since I thought that would improve my chances of appearing on the show. I practiced ad-lib and pantomime dialogue with my neighbors; they had us make a lot of noise for background first, and then had us be mute while the actual actors spoke lines.
Then they had several people stand up in front of the triage desks, blocking me. However, I subsequently had the amusement of watching Janeane Garofalo (Mystery Men, 24, The West Wing, etc.) yell “Cuff, I need a cuff!” about 10 times or so. She is a tiny woman, but intense and energetic.
By the way, if you’ve ever read anything about TV or filmmaking, you’ll have heard that it involves hours of waiting and repetition to make clips that last just a few seconds. I can tell you that this is true, based on my extensive sample of two experiences as an extra. ;-)
I never realized that sitting and standing around for a day could be so exhausting.
While Janeane (none of the production crew called her Ms. Garofalo) waited for her forays, she made friends with Larkin, a service dog for a “patient” extra who was using a wheelchair (real, not a prop/role). I think she checked with Larkin’s owner (you’re not supposed to interfere with service dogs that are “working”), but anyway the owner didn’t seem to mind the petting and sweet-talking that Larkin received.
My conversation with Janeane (pronounced Jeh-NEEN) consisted of her asking me later whether the lady with the dog was still here, and my saying I thought she was, back in the waiting area, and gesturing toward that side. That is all. Janeane sneaked back to pet Larkin several more times during the day and one last time on her way out, receiving enthusiastic welcomes from the dog. I commented to the owner that this appeared to be stress relief for both Janeane and Larkin.
After the last “Cuff, I need a cuff!” iteration, they had the extras take a break so they could do some rearrangements inside. We stood around in the sunshine and warmed up. Some of us, including me, stood in front of a big (warm) outdoor floodlight as well. We joked about getting sunburnt by it, but when I got home and looked in a mirror, I realized that it had happened to me. Aloe time!
I had a nice conversation with Casey (K.C.?), an aspiring actor who has been an extra for One Tree Hill and is also in some plays. He urged me to consider creative writing as a career, since I mentioned the woes of the journalism industry.
After the break, I got tapped to move into the treatment area. I sat in a chair while Ken (whose medical nametag said Mike) pretended to take my pulse and tried to make me laugh with his whispered/pantomimed dialogue. I resisted as best I could, hissing, “This is not a joke! Don’t patronize me, Doctor, I need help!” Our little contest was rather fun, albeit risky.
Then (1 p.m.) everybody broke for lunch, with a choice of herbed chicken or salmon chimmichurro (yum!), salad, potatoes, broccoli and brownies. Another film/TV rumor I can “confirm” is the ample food on set. All day, they had tables of snacks set up, in addition to the catered breakfast and lunch. (Even at Fiddler’s Creek Production’s zombie commercial shooting this winter, where I volunteered as an extra, pizza, chips and candy bars were plenteous.) During lunch, Bonanza finally got the voucher forms to everyone.
After lunch, we moved back to our places. I got moved from my patient/pulse role to stand behind a long table with some other patient/lookie-loos as we were filmed all agog watching Skeet Ulrich’s big scene (multiple times). There were plenty of other people in the scene, including Janeane and Twilight actress Rachelle Lefevre, but he was the center of that scene. Ulrich (Jericho, Scream; incidentally, the nephew of retired NASCAR driver Ricky Rudd) looks very tall rushing through a doorway and shouting, but fairly average-sized when standing quietly. He must just have a command presence that acts as a size multiplier.
I won’t say what was happening in this crucial scene, although the production company didn’t make us sign nondisclosure agreements. I think my little tidbits here about the production process are harmless, but I just don’t feel it would be fair for me to give plot spoilers.
They had us break again after that. I wasn’t in the background this time, but I stood as close to the treatment area as I could, so I could go on watching. Then they told the back half of the room full of extras that they could go home. I felt lucky to stay.
I sat and talked with Larkin’s owner. Someone else said she heard a rumor that Sissy Spacek had been spotted in Wilmington and was joining this show. I said that was really unlikely, since it would have been all over the news if she had.
Then the crew came back and picked some more people, including me, for background. I hope they cut the other clips that have me, for continuity, but keep this one! They had extras watching the big scene again, but this time we formed a sort of corridor. We reacted as the scene progressed. At the end, Skeet Ulrich strode along between us, passing just inches from me.
Then they had the extras sit down again while they shot more close-ups of the scene. Finally, they ended filming for the night, and started processing the extras’ paperwork. They asked us all to come back. I got out of there at 8:30.
Sadly, I have real work on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons (as opposed to play-work on set), so I couldn’t commit to either of those days. However, they told me to call on Thursday to see if I can go again on Friday, and maybe next week.
Once I got home, I checked online and discovered that yes, Sissy Spacek is indeed joining the cast. Yay for the show’s visibility! Maybe SouthLAnd’s critical raves helped convince her to sign up for this. http://www.starnewsonline.com/article/20100323/ARTICLES/100329920
If entertainment chatter bores you, I hope you stopped reading long ago. I enjoyed the day quite a bit, and I hope some of my friends and relatives appreciate this one-day immersion in the Wilmington TV experience.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Incompatibility
A recent newspaper had a one-panel cartoon, with one woman talking to another over drinks. She was saying, "My ex and I were incompatible: He was into Android, I preferred an Apple platform."
I groaned when I saw it, thinking, boy, how old is that joke?
Then I started wondering, how old is that joke, really?
I've seen it numerous times in the older version of people breaking up over IBM vs. Mac. But does it go back further than that?
I'm not talking simply about disagreements over technology, which have probably been going back since before the introduction of Clovis points. I'm talking about different technology choices that make it difficult to interact with each other.
If two people who are dating are using different operating platforms (for phones, games, computers, etc.), they won't be able to use all the same applications. They can communicate in different ways, but there are parts of their lives that they won't be able to share directly.
Choosing different platforms may also indicate philosophical differences. The stereotype for IBMs and Macs was (and still is, AFAIK) that IBMs are for business and Macs are for creative types. More recently, Apple iOS (iPhones, etc.) have just a few, sleek, user-friendly options, while Google Android has a lot more flexibility and, well, isn't Apple. (Yeah, Blackberry and other options are out there, but they're not really in contention for dominance.)
But I'm wondering, when did technological incompatibility start affecting people's lives?
The first example that I can think of is machined weaponry. When Hopalong Cassidy was arguing with Buck and Red about which rifle was best (Sharps vs. Henry, IIRC), different choices led to different calibers, meaning they couldn't share ammunition when they were pinned down in a siege. In real life, capturing an enemy army's ammo dump won't help you reload unless it happens to fit your guns.
Also, different railroad companies used different gauges for a long time. When railroad use started exploding in the 1800s, individual lines set track widths without much regard for what others were using (sometimes deliberately choosing odd gauges to prevent business from being diverted to others. Remind you of anything today?). When trains couldn't transfer from one line to another, every bit of cargo had to be unloaded and reloaded. It took decades before a standard gauge was put in place.
Still, although these incompatibilities in warfare and business made some exchanges difficult, they would have been extremely unlikely to break up a courting couple. Let's see ... steam engines vs. internal combustion? Cassettes vs. 8-track, Beta vs. VHS? I'm sure there were many arguments between boyfriends and girlfriends about which of these might be better, but I really can't think of any technology that would interfere in communications and hinder relationships to the extent that it became a common joke until the rise of personal computers, and later personal (cellular) phones. Can anyone else?
I groaned when I saw it, thinking, boy, how old is that joke?
Then I started wondering, how old is that joke, really?
I've seen it numerous times in the older version of people breaking up over IBM vs. Mac. But does it go back further than that?
I'm not talking simply about disagreements over technology, which have probably been going back since before the introduction of Clovis points. I'm talking about different technology choices that make it difficult to interact with each other.
If two people who are dating are using different operating platforms (for phones, games, computers, etc.), they won't be able to use all the same applications. They can communicate in different ways, but there are parts of their lives that they won't be able to share directly.
Choosing different platforms may also indicate philosophical differences. The stereotype for IBMs and Macs was (and still is, AFAIK) that IBMs are for business and Macs are for creative types. More recently, Apple iOS (iPhones, etc.) have just a few, sleek, user-friendly options, while Google Android has a lot more flexibility and, well, isn't Apple. (Yeah, Blackberry and other options are out there, but they're not really in contention for dominance.)
But I'm wondering, when did technological incompatibility start affecting people's lives?
The first example that I can think of is machined weaponry. When Hopalong Cassidy was arguing with Buck and Red about which rifle was best (Sharps vs. Henry, IIRC), different choices led to different calibers, meaning they couldn't share ammunition when they were pinned down in a siege. In real life, capturing an enemy army's ammo dump won't help you reload unless it happens to fit your guns.
Also, different railroad companies used different gauges for a long time. When railroad use started exploding in the 1800s, individual lines set track widths without much regard for what others were using (sometimes deliberately choosing odd gauges to prevent business from being diverted to others. Remind you of anything today?). When trains couldn't transfer from one line to another, every bit of cargo had to be unloaded and reloaded. It took decades before a standard gauge was put in place.
Still, although these incompatibilities in warfare and business made some exchanges difficult, they would have been extremely unlikely to break up a courting couple. Let's see ... steam engines vs. internal combustion? Cassettes vs. 8-track, Beta vs. VHS? I'm sure there were many arguments between boyfriends and girlfriends about which of these might be better, but I really can't think of any technology that would interfere in communications and hinder relationships to the extent that it became a common joke until the rise of personal computers, and later personal (cellular) phones. Can anyone else?
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Perspective in The Great Gatsby
I just went to a discussion of F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby" at my local library. This was part of a year of events centered around the book via The Big Read Greater Wilmington. A lot of interesting things were said about the language and symbolism in the book, as well as the culture, and about F. Scott and Zelda Fitgerald's lives, but I'm not going to try to recap all that. I just want to share the point that I wanted to make, but never got to, because we ran 15 minutes past the hour as it was.
I think the viewpoint of the book was a very interesting choice. It's presented as having been written in first person, by Nick, but although he spends a little time talking about himself and what he does, he mostly serves as a third-person narrator about Gatsby and Daisy and all the other people he observes. Why this choice to use him as the narrator is interesting is that the real main character, and indeed the namesake of the book, is Gatsby. Why is this book not written from his perspective?
First of all is the practical reason -- because of the way the book turns out, Gatsby couldn't have written it to its full conclusion. Also, even if he had been able to after the events of the book, I can't see that character sitting down to write a book about himself; he may occasionally burst out of his carefully tended shell and reveal some of his thoughts and feelings to a good listener like Nick, but he isn't a writer, or even a reader -- the books in his library are uncut.
Secondly, Gatsby wouldn't have known everything that was happening around him and that led to the denouement, so a book from his perspective would have been incomplete. That also would have set a very different tone -- pages and pages about his longings for Daisy, but probably glossing over a great deal else.
Thirdly, Nick's viewpoint does add value to the story, beyond just being able to describe the conclusion. Fitzgerald could have avoided the problems of using Gatsby as the narrator by using third-person omniscient perspective, and given that the book is so economical in other ways, he must have considered this less complex possibility. But Nick is a bit more relatable than the other main characters; he's not rich, and although they're all outsiders in a way (West Egg new money), he's fresh to the situation, so he's able to introduce it more easily than one of the characters immersed in it. His perspective also adds context, and at the end, although his father taught him not to judge people, he judges the whole West Egg/Manhattan Jazz Age society, leaving it to move back to his home in the Midwest. Ultimately, Nick's detachment resonated with the detachment of the entire unsettled Lost Generation.
Finally, Fitzgerald may have felt a little too close too Gatsby's character to write about him in first person. He himself fell in love with a golden girl of society, Zelda, and it took several years for him to become financially successful enough to win her.
Note: This is all coming from my perspective as a writer and reader. I haven't studied the book or Fitzgerald, so for all I know, there may be an author interview somewhere where he talked about his narrative choices. I am certain that there are many books and dissertations out there that cover this topic much more competently and thoroughly than this little blog post. I just wanted to throw out the topic for discussion, since I didn't get to at the meeting. Please share your thoughts if you're interested, or if you know more than me!
I think the viewpoint of the book was a very interesting choice. It's presented as having been written in first person, by Nick, but although he spends a little time talking about himself and what he does, he mostly serves as a third-person narrator about Gatsby and Daisy and all the other people he observes. Why this choice to use him as the narrator is interesting is that the real main character, and indeed the namesake of the book, is Gatsby. Why is this book not written from his perspective?
First of all is the practical reason -- because of the way the book turns out, Gatsby couldn't have written it to its full conclusion. Also, even if he had been able to after the events of the book, I can't see that character sitting down to write a book about himself; he may occasionally burst out of his carefully tended shell and reveal some of his thoughts and feelings to a good listener like Nick, but he isn't a writer, or even a reader -- the books in his library are uncut.
Secondly, Gatsby wouldn't have known everything that was happening around him and that led to the denouement, so a book from his perspective would have been incomplete. That also would have set a very different tone -- pages and pages about his longings for Daisy, but probably glossing over a great deal else.
Thirdly, Nick's viewpoint does add value to the story, beyond just being able to describe the conclusion. Fitzgerald could have avoided the problems of using Gatsby as the narrator by using third-person omniscient perspective, and given that the book is so economical in other ways, he must have considered this less complex possibility. But Nick is a bit more relatable than the other main characters; he's not rich, and although they're all outsiders in a way (West Egg new money), he's fresh to the situation, so he's able to introduce it more easily than one of the characters immersed in it. His perspective also adds context, and at the end, although his father taught him not to judge people, he judges the whole West Egg/Manhattan Jazz Age society, leaving it to move back to his home in the Midwest. Ultimately, Nick's detachment resonated with the detachment of the entire unsettled Lost Generation.
Finally, Fitzgerald may have felt a little too close too Gatsby's character to write about him in first person. He himself fell in love with a golden girl of society, Zelda, and it took several years for him to become financially successful enough to win her.
Note: This is all coming from my perspective as a writer and reader. I haven't studied the book or Fitzgerald, so for all I know, there may be an author interview somewhere where he talked about his narrative choices. I am certain that there are many books and dissertations out there that cover this topic much more competently and thoroughly than this little blog post. I just wanted to throw out the topic for discussion, since I didn't get to at the meeting. Please share your thoughts if you're interested, or if you know more than me!
Friday, January 18, 2013
Insidious
It's been a couple of weeks since my last post. I need to remind myself that not every message here has to be a long essay. In that spirit, I'll write a short piece for today.
I was listening to a podcast yesterday of a roundtable discussion among science fiction fans, and one of the panelists kept misusing the word "insidious" as though it meant frightening or evil, and blatantly, overwhelmingly so. Has anyone else heard the word misused this way?
Merriam-Webster has a lot to say about the word; definitions include awaiting a chance to entrap, harmful but enticing, and having a gradual, cumulative effect. I've always thought of it as meaning subtly harmful, describing something that builds into a big, well-grounded problem before you're aware of it, so that's pretty much on track.
I'll give the example of Achyra, the insidiously evil Webmistress goddess, in Elizabeth Moon's "The Deed of Paksennarion" (as opposed to Liart, the more overt god of torment). She plays for the long game — or games, really, since she always has a lot of plots going on — setting up people and situations years in advance, masking her purposes and causing good people to fall into conflict with each other, and trying to strategize so that all courses of action may lead to woe. Rarely do her minions come out into the open.
While looking up "insidious," I also came across references to the 2010 movie. I didn't see that; I rarely go to a theater to see a movie, and this one was definitely not my cup of tea. Reading the plot description, it seems as though the title fits the word. If anyone has seen it and can tell me whether that's right, please do so.
I was listening to a podcast yesterday of a roundtable discussion among science fiction fans, and one of the panelists kept misusing the word "insidious" as though it meant frightening or evil, and blatantly, overwhelmingly so. Has anyone else heard the word misused this way?
Merriam-Webster has a lot to say about the word; definitions include awaiting a chance to entrap, harmful but enticing, and having a gradual, cumulative effect. I've always thought of it as meaning subtly harmful, describing something that builds into a big, well-grounded problem before you're aware of it, so that's pretty much on track.
I'll give the example of Achyra, the insidiously evil Webmistress goddess, in Elizabeth Moon's "The Deed of Paksennarion" (as opposed to Liart, the more overt god of torment). She plays for the long game — or games, really, since she always has a lot of plots going on — setting up people and situations years in advance, masking her purposes and causing good people to fall into conflict with each other, and trying to strategize so that all courses of action may lead to woe. Rarely do her minions come out into the open.
While looking up "insidious," I also came across references to the 2010 movie. I didn't see that; I rarely go to a theater to see a movie, and this one was definitely not my cup of tea. Reading the plot description, it seems as though the title fits the word. If anyone has seen it and can tell me whether that's right, please do so.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Keeping sort of humble
It's always an education to play word games with my friends and relatives. Words are a big part of my job, but I often lose Scrabble to Jane, or Boggle to Casey, or Quiddler to somebody else.
Still, it's fun being challenged to come up with words that fit combinations of letters, and it's a real triumph to come up with something that uses difficult letters such as J or X. I lost games at Christmas and Thanksgiving, and an earlier trip to Raleigh visiting friends, and still enjoyed them very much.
For the record: A quire is a quantity of paper, and it can also be used as a verb.
Also, although Merriam-Webster defines ley as a mere variant of lea, or meadow, and leaves it at that, it also has some more substantial definitions: Collins via The Free Dictionary says it's 1) grassland or pasture or 2) "a line joining two prominent points in the landscape, thought to be the line of a prehistoric track." Dictionary.com adds that ley is "a pewter containing about 80 percent tin and 20 percent lead." Finally, here's a Wikipedia entry about ley lines, both as old travelers' tracks and in the newer mystical interpretation.
Still, it's fun being challenged to come up with words that fit combinations of letters, and it's a real triumph to come up with something that uses difficult letters such as J or X. I lost games at Christmas and Thanksgiving, and an earlier trip to Raleigh visiting friends, and still enjoyed them very much.
For the record: A quire is a quantity of paper, and it can also be used as a verb.
Also, although Merriam-Webster defines ley as a mere variant of lea, or meadow, and leaves it at that, it also has some more substantial definitions: Collins via The Free Dictionary says it's 1) grassland or pasture or 2) "a line joining two prominent points in the landscape, thought to be the line of a prehistoric track." Dictionary.com adds that ley is "a pewter containing about 80 percent tin and 20 percent lead." Finally, here's a Wikipedia entry about ley lines, both as old travelers' tracks and in the newer mystical interpretation.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Go me!
There was a design/copy editor
so sharp, hardly anything fretted her.
Her demeanor was placid,
but her wit could be acid,
and she pounced on mistakes like a predator.
Please excuse my little triumph song; I had a successful first week at my job! I'm back full-time in the newspaper world. I'm learning how this company's software works at a reasonable pace, and one guy says I'm learning quicker than he expected. Already, though, I've hit the ground running as a proofreader, catching a number of mistakes by others before their pages hit the press. I've also been complimented on my headline-writing ability.
I'll still continue with freelance work on the side. Also, following this first, busy whirlwind, I'm planning to keep posting here at least once a week. Cheers!
so sharp, hardly anything fretted her.
Her demeanor was placid,
but her wit could be acid,
and she pounced on mistakes like a predator.
Please excuse my little triumph song; I had a successful first week at my job! I'm back full-time in the newspaper world. I'm learning how this company's software works at a reasonable pace, and one guy says I'm learning quicker than he expected. Already, though, I've hit the ground running as a proofreader, catching a number of mistakes by others before their pages hit the press. I've also been complimented on my headline-writing ability.
I'll still continue with freelance work on the side. Also, following this first, busy whirlwind, I'm planning to keep posting here at least once a week. Cheers!
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Salient and Desultory
I discovered today that "salient" and "desultory" come from the same root word, the Latin "salire," meaning to jump. That's very interesting to me, considering how modern usage has shifted them into nearly opposite meanings.
Merriam-Webster's first definition of salient is "moving by leaps or springs: jumping." I would say the more common use these days follows from its third definition, "projecting beyond a line, surface, or level," or "standing out conspicuously: prominent." A salient point originally simply meant some kind of projection, often related to military formations or structures, but it has gone from that to being used to describe the main thrust of an argument or discussion. The Free Dictionary suggests synonyms for "salient point" including "essence," "cornerstone," and "focal point," none of which seem related to jumping around!
"Desultory" comes from adding the Latin "de" (from) to salire, i.e. to jump from (something), so think of grasshoppers, not butterflies. Desultores were circus performers who leaped from one galloping horse to another. Dictionary.com's first definition of desultory is "lacking in consistency, constancy, or visible order, disconnected; fitful" and its second definition is "digressing from the main subject; random." I've also heard it used in conversation to simply mean casual, in the context of a dilettante, as in taking a desultory interest in some topic.
Again, de means from or down from (or in some cases, about); it's not a preposition related to opposition, such as contra or adversus. Logically and etymologically, desultory should not be an antonym of salient, despite how their usages seem to be evolving in opposite directions. But then, if you crave order and reason in language, I'm afraid that English will often frustrate you; you might want to try instead for being amused by its surprises.
Merriam-Webster's first definition of salient is "moving by leaps or springs: jumping." I would say the more common use these days follows from its third definition, "projecting beyond a line, surface, or level," or "standing out conspicuously: prominent." A salient point originally simply meant some kind of projection, often related to military formations or structures, but it has gone from that to being used to describe the main thrust of an argument or discussion. The Free Dictionary suggests synonyms for "salient point" including "essence," "cornerstone," and "focal point," none of which seem related to jumping around!
"Desultory" comes from adding the Latin "de" (from) to salire, i.e. to jump from (something), so think of grasshoppers, not butterflies. Desultores were circus performers who leaped from one galloping horse to another. Dictionary.com's first definition of desultory is "lacking in consistency, constancy, or visible order, disconnected; fitful" and its second definition is "digressing from the main subject; random." I've also heard it used in conversation to simply mean casual, in the context of a dilettante, as in taking a desultory interest in some topic.
Again, de means from or down from (or in some cases, about); it's not a preposition related to opposition, such as contra or adversus. Logically and etymologically, desultory should not be an antonym of salient, despite how their usages seem to be evolving in opposite directions. But then, if you crave order and reason in language, I'm afraid that English will often frustrate you; you might want to try instead for being amused by its surprises.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Narrative forms, translation issues, and more
Recently I listened to a lengthy interview by "The Skiffy and Fanty Show" of my friend and former co-worker, Sabrina Vourvoulias. It was an interesting and wide-ranging conversation, and I'll definitely be checking back on that podcast.
The interview was sparked by her recent publication of "Ink," a near-future dystopia that explores some foreboding implications of immigration-law trends. I haven't had a chance to read the book yet, but that wasn't a problem, because the interview talked far less about the plot than about inspiration, the craft of writing, forms of writing, translation, and other issues.
One thing Sabrina talked about was different forms of writing. She compared poetry to jazz, and journalism to folksy ballads, in which direct simplicity is a virtue. One of the interviewers suggested symphonies for comparison to fiction, and she agreed because of how symphonies -- and fiction -- draw on many different threads, and weave them together. She expanded on that, talking about the inclusivity of fiction, how it can encompass other forms of writing.
That made me think of "Dracula," which comprised diary entries, letters, news clippings, and telegrams, and "World War Z," which is cast as a collection of oral histories about the zombie apocalypse. There are many other examples of this in fiction, and all this is a reminder that there are many other options besides first- or third-person character narratives, or even epics that switch perspectives among multiple characters.
I was also very interested in the segment about translation, and thinking in different languages. My dad took a course in Greek this year and was struck by the difficulty -- some words just don't have direct equivalents, and sometimes words have multiple meanings in one language, and the translator just has to choose one of those meanings instead of being able to find an equivalent that embraces the ambiguity.
Many of C.J. Cherryh's books deal with conflicts between different mindsets, but her Foreigner series deals specifically with a human translator who basically ends up by default as the ambassador, because misunderstandings are so dangerous...
Here and now on Earth, of course, it's very easy to think of examples of dangerous mistranslations between members of the same human species. It's not necessarily just that words don't correspond, but that ways of thinking, as reflected in and fostered by language structure, can be so different. I could write a whole essay just about that, so I'll stop here, but I'd love to see some comments!
The interview was sparked by her recent publication of "Ink," a near-future dystopia that explores some foreboding implications of immigration-law trends. I haven't had a chance to read the book yet, but that wasn't a problem, because the interview talked far less about the plot than about inspiration, the craft of writing, forms of writing, translation, and other issues.
One thing Sabrina talked about was different forms of writing. She compared poetry to jazz, and journalism to folksy ballads, in which direct simplicity is a virtue. One of the interviewers suggested symphonies for comparison to fiction, and she agreed because of how symphonies -- and fiction -- draw on many different threads, and weave them together. She expanded on that, talking about the inclusivity of fiction, how it can encompass other forms of writing.
That made me think of "Dracula," which comprised diary entries, letters, news clippings, and telegrams, and "World War Z," which is cast as a collection of oral histories about the zombie apocalypse. There are many other examples of this in fiction, and all this is a reminder that there are many other options besides first- or third-person character narratives, or even epics that switch perspectives among multiple characters.
I was also very interested in the segment about translation, and thinking in different languages. My dad took a course in Greek this year and was struck by the difficulty -- some words just don't have direct equivalents, and sometimes words have multiple meanings in one language, and the translator just has to choose one of those meanings instead of being able to find an equivalent that embraces the ambiguity.
Many of C.J. Cherryh's books deal with conflicts between different mindsets, but her Foreigner series deals specifically with a human translator who basically ends up by default as the ambassador, because misunderstandings are so dangerous...
Here and now on Earth, of course, it's very easy to think of examples of dangerous mistranslations between members of the same human species. It's not necessarily just that words don't correspond, but that ways of thinking, as reflected in and fostered by language structure, can be so different. I could write a whole essay just about that, so I'll stop here, but I'd love to see some comments!
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Happy Thanksgiving!
"What is best in life?"
"To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women."
Strong words, aren't they? This quote from "Conan the Barbarian" seems pretty inappropriate for Thanksgiving, unless you're sociopathically driven, and/or Genghis Khan, but bear with me.
This quote will always remind me of Thanksgiving, because I first saw the movie on Thanksgiving Day, during my first year in college. Two other people and I had wangled invitations to visit a friend's family for the holiday, being too far from home to visit our own families.
The friend's dad graciously agreed to put us all up. Prior to this invasion, he had been planning to cook one Cornish Game Hen each for himself, his daughter, and his son. When the numbers doubled, instead of trying to learn how to cook a turkey, he simply got another three Cornish hens and crammed them all into the oven.
While he wrestled with the birds, the younger generation watched television. For some reason, even though this was in Texas, we didn't watch football, but caught the movie instead.
When I hear this quote, I know the words are about pitiless violence. However, because of the associations the movie holds for me, I always feel a trace of warm nostalgia, for a generous man, a nice family, and good times with good friends.
So I always try to remember: Unless I know the context of somebody's words, I may not really know what is meant.
"To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women."
Strong words, aren't they? This quote from "Conan the Barbarian" seems pretty inappropriate for Thanksgiving, unless you're sociopathically driven, and/or Genghis Khan, but bear with me.
This quote will always remind me of Thanksgiving, because I first saw the movie on Thanksgiving Day, during my first year in college. Two other people and I had wangled invitations to visit a friend's family for the holiday, being too far from home to visit our own families.
The friend's dad graciously agreed to put us all up. Prior to this invasion, he had been planning to cook one Cornish Game Hen each for himself, his daughter, and his son. When the numbers doubled, instead of trying to learn how to cook a turkey, he simply got another three Cornish hens and crammed them all into the oven.
While he wrestled with the birds, the younger generation watched television. For some reason, even though this was in Texas, we didn't watch football, but caught the movie instead.
When I hear this quote, I know the words are about pitiless violence. However, because of the associations the movie holds for me, I always feel a trace of warm nostalgia, for a generous man, a nice family, and good times with good friends.
So I always try to remember: Unless I know the context of somebody's words, I may not really know what is meant.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Moving Beyond the Written Word
I've been working to learn Audacity, an audiofile editor, so here is my first podcast! Because I was recently reminded of the beauty of Ray Bradbury's prose, and because it's seasonal, I'm reading from "Something Wicked This Way Comes."
For the wind-rattling sound effect, I modified a file from freesound.org, "0203wind.wav" courtesy of sagetyrtle.
UPDATE: I re-recorded the dialogue and spliced it in with my previous reading; hopefully the salesman's voice is out of uncanny valley territory now. I also tried to fix the cut-off credit at the end by leaving some extra time at the end of the file, but although it sounded fine on the mp3 on my computer, Yodio cut off the end again when I uploaded the audiofile. If anyone wants to suggest some other free audio hosts besides Yodio, please do so!
For the wind-rattling sound effect, I modified a file from freesound.org, "0203wind.wav" courtesy of sagetyrtle.
UPDATE: I re-recorded the dialogue and spliced it in with my previous reading; hopefully the salesman's voice is out of uncanny valley territory now. I also tried to fix the cut-off credit at the end by leaving some extra time at the end of the file, but although it sounded fine on the mp3 on my computer, Yodio cut off the end again when I uploaded the audiofile. If anyone wants to suggest some other free audio hosts besides Yodio, please do so!
Monday, October 15, 2012
'Blogger'
A new acquaintance was cut short today (the budding relationship, not the person), when I mentioned having started this blog recently. He said, with his voice rising in disgust, "You have a blog? You're a blogger?"
"Uh, yeah," I replied, nonplussed.
I'm still a bit bemused by this contemptuous reaction. As far as I'm concerned, a blogger is simply someone who keeps a web log, posting about whatever topics interest him or her. There are a lot of different types of blogs about a wide variety of subjects; some are fascinating or fun, some are dull or foolish, and some are just horrible. Apparently, to this guy, they're all bad.
His earlier cell-phone bragging meant he wasn't simply a technophobe. So it must have been the activity of blogging, not the medium, that offended him.
I know that a fair number of monolithic mainstream media organizations still look upon bloggers as a mob of pajama-clad ranters. But this guy wasn't a journalist, so I don't think he was irritated about encroachment on his turf.
However, the first definition of "blogger" on Urban Dictionary starts out this way: "Term used to describe anyone with enough time or narcissism to document every tedious bit of minutia filling their uneventful lives." And that's one of the polite definitions. Apparently there are a lot of people out there who have encountered enough trivial navel-gazing on the web that they just despise all bloggers.
Such generalizations don't make much sense to me, and I'm certainly not going to let that attitude discourage my own blogging. But it does serve as a reminder that even when people may agree on a technical definition for a word, they can differ strongly, even emotionally, about its connotations.
"Uh, yeah," I replied, nonplussed.
I'm still a bit bemused by this contemptuous reaction. As far as I'm concerned, a blogger is simply someone who keeps a web log, posting about whatever topics interest him or her. There are a lot of different types of blogs about a wide variety of subjects; some are fascinating or fun, some are dull or foolish, and some are just horrible. Apparently, to this guy, they're all bad.
His earlier cell-phone bragging meant he wasn't simply a technophobe. So it must have been the activity of blogging, not the medium, that offended him.
I know that a fair number of monolithic mainstream media organizations still look upon bloggers as a mob of pajama-clad ranters. But this guy wasn't a journalist, so I don't think he was irritated about encroachment on his turf.
However, the first definition of "blogger" on Urban Dictionary starts out this way: "Term used to describe anyone with enough time or narcissism to document every tedious bit of minutia filling their uneventful lives." And that's one of the polite definitions. Apparently there are a lot of people out there who have encountered enough trivial navel-gazing on the web that they just despise all bloggers.
Such generalizations don't make much sense to me, and I'm certainly not going to let that attitude discourage my own blogging. But it does serve as a reminder that even when people may agree on a technical definition for a word, they can differ strongly, even emotionally, about its connotations.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Gatekeeping language
No, I don't know anything about obscure jargon used by tollbooth personnel, or anything like that. (Sorry, Georgette Heyer fans.) I'm talking about those who see themselves as guardians of proper English. Gatekeepers include English teachers and professors, editors of various sorts, and many amateurs who offer corrections for love of the language.
As an editor some years back, I felt guilty for using "tidal wave" in a headline instead of "tsunami" -- I wasn't sure about the reading level of my audience, but shouldn't I have given them the benefit of the doubt? I felt a little better after finding out that the Japanese word's roots simply mean "harbor wave," which isn't any more accurate in describing the phenomenon. Scientists prefer tsunami, but most people understand that "tidal wave" refers not to neaps or ebbs or other types of gravity-based water movements, but to the walls of water caused by earthquakes.
English is a constantly evolving language, with users borrowing from others, creating new words, and using old ones in new ways. (The whole plot of the wonderful 1941 comedy "Ball of Fire" gets started by Gary Cooper's realization that he's falling behind in his attempt to list and define slang expressions for an encyclopedia.)
Language lovers face constant conflicts between purism and popular usage, and like actual battles, experts love to keep rehashing old ones. A recent NPR commentary reviews a new book, "The Story of Ain't," about the cultural upheaval caused in 1961 by Merriam's publication of the third edition of Webster's International Dictionary.
I wasn't born yet when that controversy arose, but I know something about it because of my reading habits. Rex Stout's 1962 murder mystery, "Gambit," features a scene where detective Nero Wolfe is ripping out pages from that dictionary and burning them. Before he consents to take on a new client, the linguiphile asks her whether she uses "infer" and imply" interchangeably.
Wolfe, Miss Blount, and I (and probably Stout) all agree that the answer to this should be "No!" To infer is to deduce a conclusion from available facts or statements, and to imply is to arrange statements in a way that suggests a conclusion. (Suppose I say that Jane's failing store burned down the day after she took out extra insurance; I'm probably implying that police should check for accelerants, and you may infer that I think arson is a possibility.) Saying that "infer" may be used in place of "imply" creates ambiguity and undermines the value of both words.
However, aside from condoning conflation of distinct words, Webster's third edition drew a great deal of criticism for its inclusion of colloquialisms including "litterbug." Here, I am in favor of modernizing language. New words are needed to label new technologies, new cultural practices, and new times in general. Few people these days object when dictionaries add new words; Merriam-Webster and the Oxford English Dictionary, among others, invite publicity when they release lists of new words.
For me, the question to be asked in evaluating word usage is whether it eases or hinders communication. If a new word, or a new use of a word, helps clarify meanings, then I'm all for it. If it muddies the waters, well, I wouldn't burn a whole dictionary over it, but I would definitely call it out as a mistake.
As an editor some years back, I felt guilty for using "tidal wave" in a headline instead of "tsunami" -- I wasn't sure about the reading level of my audience, but shouldn't I have given them the benefit of the doubt? I felt a little better after finding out that the Japanese word's roots simply mean "harbor wave," which isn't any more accurate in describing the phenomenon. Scientists prefer tsunami, but most people understand that "tidal wave" refers not to neaps or ebbs or other types of gravity-based water movements, but to the walls of water caused by earthquakes.
English is a constantly evolving language, with users borrowing from others, creating new words, and using old ones in new ways. (The whole plot of the wonderful 1941 comedy "Ball of Fire" gets started by Gary Cooper's realization that he's falling behind in his attempt to list and define slang expressions for an encyclopedia.)
Language lovers face constant conflicts between purism and popular usage, and like actual battles, experts love to keep rehashing old ones. A recent NPR commentary reviews a new book, "The Story of Ain't," about the cultural upheaval caused in 1961 by Merriam's publication of the third edition of Webster's International Dictionary.
I wasn't born yet when that controversy arose, but I know something about it because of my reading habits. Rex Stout's 1962 murder mystery, "Gambit," features a scene where detective Nero Wolfe is ripping out pages from that dictionary and burning them. Before he consents to take on a new client, the linguiphile asks her whether she uses "infer" and imply" interchangeably.
Wolfe, Miss Blount, and I (and probably Stout) all agree that the answer to this should be "No!" To infer is to deduce a conclusion from available facts or statements, and to imply is to arrange statements in a way that suggests a conclusion. (Suppose I say that Jane's failing store burned down the day after she took out extra insurance; I'm probably implying that police should check for accelerants, and you may infer that I think arson is a possibility.) Saying that "infer" may be used in place of "imply" creates ambiguity and undermines the value of both words.
However, aside from condoning conflation of distinct words, Webster's third edition drew a great deal of criticism for its inclusion of colloquialisms including "litterbug." Here, I am in favor of modernizing language. New words are needed to label new technologies, new cultural practices, and new times in general. Few people these days object when dictionaries add new words; Merriam-Webster and the Oxford English Dictionary, among others, invite publicity when they release lists of new words.
For me, the question to be asked in evaluating word usage is whether it eases or hinders communication. If a new word, or a new use of a word, helps clarify meanings, then I'm all for it. If it muddies the waters, well, I wouldn't burn a whole dictionary over it, but I would definitely call it out as a mistake.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Titles that say 'skip me'
Recently, I smirked at a headline in my local newspaper's business section:
"Frosty interview may signal trouble." Is there really anyone who wouldn't interpret a chilly atmosphere in the interview room to mean that it wasn't going well?
The purpose of a headline is not to convey information. Its purpose is to get you to read the story. The same goes for the title of a book -- the purpose is to get you to pick it up and hopefully even buy it.
Of course, conveying information is one way, and often the best way, to engage a reader's attention. (Other methods include asking questions and using kickers, which I'll discuss in another post.) To do this in a headline, you can summarize the article, or pick a point to highlight, or tell why the reader should care.
However, conveying the information that an article will contain staggeringly obvious points is NOT the way to get people to read it. Why would anyone want to read that column? I'd be more likely to read one with a totally bland headline like "Tips for job interviews" than the one here.
Because I've worked in newspapers, I know that the editor often writes the headline, rather than the reporter or columnist doing so. Sometimes the editor is rushed or even incompetent, so a dumb headline doesn't necessarily mean the article is bad, any more than a witty headline means it's good.
Even a smart, witty, or urgent-sounding headline won't always draw readers. But my goodness, doesn't it help?
Please let me know if you'd like to share any really obvious, dumb, or funny-by-mistake headlines or titles!
"Frosty interview may signal trouble." Is there really anyone who wouldn't interpret a chilly atmosphere in the interview room to mean that it wasn't going well?
Of course, conveying information is one way, and often the best way, to engage a reader's attention. (Other methods include asking questions and using kickers, which I'll discuss in another post.) To do this in a headline, you can summarize the article, or pick a point to highlight, or tell why the reader should care.
However, conveying the information that an article will contain staggeringly obvious points is NOT the way to get people to read it. Why would anyone want to read that column? I'd be more likely to read one with a totally bland headline like "Tips for job interviews" than the one here.
Because I've worked in newspapers, I know that the editor often writes the headline, rather than the reporter or columnist doing so. Sometimes the editor is rushed or even incompetent, so a dumb headline doesn't necessarily mean the article is bad, any more than a witty headline means it's good.
Even a smart, witty, or urgent-sounding headline won't always draw readers. But my goodness, doesn't it help?
Please let me know if you'd like to share any really obvious, dumb, or funny-by-mistake headlines or titles!
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Readability
For a lot of this post, I'll be writing mostly for myself, as reminders for future endeavors. However, I hope my thoughts may prove useful for others, as well.
I was talking with several people this weekend about websites, and one thing we all agreed on was the importance of readability. This is an era of short attention spans, and I don't expect that to change any time soon. Anyone who wants visitors to stick around a site or return to it has to make it easy on them.
I'm not talking about talking down to your potential readers. I'm not even talking about the words you use, yet. As a writer, I'm slightly pained to admit it, but as a longtime layout editor, I know that design is on a par with content.
A relative of mine refuses to visit a restaurant chain because she hates their website so much, with all its flashy, animated clutter. A lot of people have less visceral reactions but still won't spend long on sites that make them uncomfortable. If you're not a professional designer, then just focus on this: A simple, high-contrast layout will make it easier for the visitor to focus on the content instead of being distracted by the packaging.
Now, about the writing: Don't do anything to slow the reader down. If you want to make people stop and think about your topic, great, but don't make them have to stop and figure out what you were trying to say.
First of all, use correct spelling, punctuation, and grammar. Even if you don't care about such things, more of your readers will care than you may expect -- even if they just make silent, subconscious judgments of your site as being less than professional. If you can't find a friend or an editor to review before you post, consider writing a draft of your text in Word or something else that will point out errors. It won't catch them all, though! If readers point out an error, thank them and fix it.
Next, know your audience, and use appropriate vocabulary. If you're trying to reach a mass market, use simple words and short sentences. If you're expecting readers who love language, then share your own favorite words, but don't show off just to seem smart. If you lean toward subordinate clauses and other complexities, read back through and see if you can break anything down.
Don't waste time getting to the point.
These are the main points I try to pay attention to when I'm evaluating my writing style. The content is an issue for another day. If anyone else has suggestions for making writing as readable as possible, I'd love to hear them!
I was talking with several people this weekend about websites, and one thing we all agreed on was the importance of readability. This is an era of short attention spans, and I don't expect that to change any time soon. Anyone who wants visitors to stick around a site or return to it has to make it easy on them.
I'm not talking about talking down to your potential readers. I'm not even talking about the words you use, yet. As a writer, I'm slightly pained to admit it, but as a longtime layout editor, I know that design is on a par with content.
A relative of mine refuses to visit a restaurant chain because she hates their website so much, with all its flashy, animated clutter. A lot of people have less visceral reactions but still won't spend long on sites that make them uncomfortable. If you're not a professional designer, then just focus on this: A simple, high-contrast layout will make it easier for the visitor to focus on the content instead of being distracted by the packaging.
Now, about the writing: Don't do anything to slow the reader down. If you want to make people stop and think about your topic, great, but don't make them have to stop and figure out what you were trying to say.
First of all, use correct spelling, punctuation, and grammar. Even if you don't care about such things, more of your readers will care than you may expect -- even if they just make silent, subconscious judgments of your site as being less than professional. If you can't find a friend or an editor to review before you post, consider writing a draft of your text in Word or something else that will point out errors. It won't catch them all, though! If readers point out an error, thank them and fix it.
Next, know your audience, and use appropriate vocabulary. If you're trying to reach a mass market, use simple words and short sentences. If you're expecting readers who love language, then share your own favorite words, but don't show off just to seem smart. If you lean toward subordinate clauses and other complexities, read back through and see if you can break anything down.
Don't waste time getting to the point.
- If the point is to get people to visit your store or buy your merchandise, put a description of what makes you special on your homepage, along with vital stats including address, hours, and phone number.
- If the point is to convey information, tell the main point and then go into details, not the other way around. The old journalistic list of who, what, where, when, why and how helps here.
- If you're telling a joke or a story with a twist at the end, make sure your lead is compelling. See if you can ask some sort of question that will make people want to keep reading in order to find the answer.
- If you just want to piffle about your daily life, make sure you give some kind of warning about this early on, so that people don't finish your post, wonder why they wasted their time, and unfollow you. A rambling post may be okay once in a while, if it helps readers feel they're getting to know you, but try not to make a habit of it.
These are the main points I try to pay attention to when I'm evaluating my writing style. The content is an issue for another day. If anyone else has suggestions for making writing as readable as possible, I'd love to hear them!
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