Blizzcon was a great time.  It was my first, and it was cool to see some of the things they previewed.  Disneyland isn’t really my thing, but the wife liked it, so that was cool.  The Dreamworks stuff . . . it’s mostly hush hush.  We’re working on a new project that I’m not really free to talk about.  I will say it is NOT the Gil’s All Fright Diner or anything like that.  It’s an original idea, and while we’re in the preliminary stages, it could be awesome.  Or not.  We’re still figuring that out.  Can’t say any more than that at this stage.  So don’t bother asking.

But enough of my adventures in the real world.  They are thrilling, indeed, but they are also not what make me very interesting.  In fact, the only thing that makes me interesting to the general public is the mysterious art of novelology.  We might as well talk about that.

While I can’t tell you what makes a great story, I can say that it’s not all that mysterious.  Put interesting characters in an interesting situation, let things unfold to a satisfying conclusion, and BINGO you have the basics of a solid story.  That’s not very helpful though, is it?  It seems almost like a no brainer, a bit of advice so obvious that there’s no need to even speak it aloud.  Nevertheless, I’m sometimes surprised by the number of aspiring writers who don’t get this.

Granted, there is no one way to write a story, but too often, I see people buying into the idea that characters and stories must be complicated in order to be interesting.  The problem with complexity is that while it’s great when done properly, it’s usually pretty lousy when done poorly.

Personally, I find simplicity is underrated.  I don’t think of myself as a simple writer, but I do admit that it’s rare for my stories to be exceptionally complex.  There’s usually a good guy and a bad guy, some supernatural or sci fi themed conflict, and a resolution that involves either a tentacle monster or the universe almost exploding (or both).  I’d avoid saying I have a formula, but there’s no denying certain recurring elements that keep popping up.

Yet even a simple story has room for its own personality, its own unique qualities.  With eight published books, one finished manuscript in the pipe, and a current project a third of the way through, I’ve created dozens of characters and endangered many a universe in myriad ways.  And none of my characters are especially complicated.  Still, I think of them as distinct individuals, even the similar ones.

But what if they weren’t?  Would it really matter?  If I had only a dozen or so character archetypes at my disposal, would it hurt anything?  Aren’t we Terrans just telling the same handful of stories over and over again with our own touches added to them for good measure?  In the end, it’s all the same passions, the same fears, the same thirst for adventure, the same fear of the unknown, the same sense of mystery, the same empathy and malice that compels us.

Understanding this makes things a lot easier.  I consider myself a fairly creative soul, and I think my stories have some intriguing twists on the standard expectations of modern fantasy.  Yet ultimately, if they work it’s because they appeal to the reader on a most basic level.  It’s why I can’t complain about being called “funny” because a funny story has reached someone in a very special way.  Humor is one of the things that makes us tick, and if a story helps someone get in touch with that element of themselves, I’m honored to have been a part of that.

My advice to aspiring writers of all types is to worry less about wowing the audience with how complex you can make things, and just concentrate on having one or two characters worth following around.  And then have them do something interesting enough to make us glad we did follow them.  Maybe that’s something as thrilling as punching space aliens.  Or something as simple as having them learn and love and laugh.  The specifics aren’t important.  And this is obvious to anyone who looks at the bookshelves.  They’re filled with all kinds of stories for all kinds of people.  And while it’s unlikely that any story will have universal appeal, a writer doesn’t have to have a universal audience to be successful.  In fact, if you’re definition of successful artist is universal acceptance, you might as well stop now.  Because I guarantee that no matter how successful an artist is, there are plenty of folks who dislike him.

The tradition of great storytelling has always been taking a protagonist and throwing them in an unusual situation.  Everything else is just window dressing and details.  Important stuff, to be certain, but at the end of the day, a cool story without much decoration beats a dull one draped with a thousand useless accessories.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Well, far be it from me to allow lameness to gain a foothold in the universe, but I’ve been busy.  Doin’ stuff and junk.  It’s a hectic life, the adventures of a world-renowned novelologist, and really, sometimes I forget how wonderful it is to hear from me, how I enrich the lives of the little people, and how, just by being me, I spread sunshine and rainbows like leprechauns spread marshmallow cereal.

All kidding aside, I missed ya, gang.

I went to Armadillocon last weekend, and it was a great time.  I plan on writing up the event in more detail, but for now, I’ll just say it was swell and an honor and a pleasure to be invited.

Okay, so the simple question I got recently was this:  Do I ever focus on more than one book at a time?  Or do I just focus on one and get it done?

It varies.

When I first started writing seriously, it was usually a focus thing, working on just one thing, getting it done.  I might start a project and not finish it, but for the most part, it was straightforward.  Especially when first writing, I didn’t go in with any expectations other than to prove I could write a book.  So I focused less on writing a perfect book as just writing something.  It’s a common mistake for new aspiring writers to feel as if their first book must be good.

I’ll admit that never made much sense to me.  It’d be like picking up a baseball and expecting to be able to throw a no-hitter your first time on the mound.  You don’t get better without practice.  And even if you have all the natural talent in the world, you’re always better with training.

It’s also easier to focus on your first few efforts because everything is new and wonderful.  Every word, even the uninteresting, clumsy ones, are special.  Every page is a triumph of effort, even if not of talent.  It’s an adventure.

At this stage though, I’ll admit I don’t focus like I used to.  I think it’s because, the more you write, the harder it is to write something original.  Maybe that doesn’t matter to everyone, but I try to do different things, try not to just recycle the same stories.  Whether or not I succeed is a matter of debate, but I’d like to think that I’ve managed to create a variety of stories and characters, that I’m not just treading artistic water.

So I can skip around a bit more when I begin a new book, usually until I get along to a certain point and then there’s really no turning back.  It’s just not practical.  Evenutally, you have to commit.  And that’s the difference between being an amateur or a professional.  It’s not the paycheck.  (Okay, the paycheck is nice.)  It’s the commitment to getting the thing done.

I’d like to break it down more than that, but it’s late.  I’m tired.  I’m not sure I understand it enough to explain beyond that anyway.  So there you go.  A small blog entry to keep you warm at night.  Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

The DFWWW had our annual conference this year.  This was the third year, and it was a smashing success.  A lot of people worked hard to make it happen, and things went smoothly.  I gave a presentation that seemed to go well.  At least, nobody yelled at me, and everyone seemed happy to see me.

Hardly surprising.  This was a room full of aspiring writers.  And, while the notion that I’m a role model might be a bit much, there’s no arguing that I’m doing what they want.  I’m getting paid to write.  Knowing how hard it is to be an aspiring writer, knowing the thirst for knowledge, advice, and plain acknowledgement, is it any wonder that they’re so eager to pay a few hundred dollars to attend a conference in hopes of meeting agents, learning secrets, and otherwise making connections.  The drive and desire in that convention hall was palpable.  It makes me realize how fortunate I am to be doing this.  That’s not something I forget, but it’s still nice to be reminded every so often.

I do my best to be friendly in these situations because I’ve been there.  I remember what it’s like.  I have friends that are there right now.  Although I have a feeling that some of those friends might be crossing over that line pretty soon.

I’ll admit that it’s somewhat bizarre on this side of the professional novelologist track.  I still can’t get over it.  In the span of a few years, I’ve gone from some guy who writes to a man of respect and influence.  The agents we had come down (all of them lovely, friendly people) had even heard of me.  Strange to be sort of famous.

Okay, so I guess that’s about it.  It’s been a long weekend, and I’m off to bed early.  Early for me, at least.  Later, gang.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

The hullaballoo about the new Harlequin Horizons self-publishing imprint gave me an excuse to post some thoughts on self-publishing in general.  You read right, gang.  This isn’t a blog about Godzilla, board games, or the coolness of robots and cartoons.  Although I’m not promising that one or more of those topics might rear their head along the way.  They tend to do that in my internet postings, and I’ve just learned to live with that.  But onto the topic at hand.

Self-publishing (or vanity publishing or whatever the hell you want to call it) is a tricky proposition.  I’ll just go on record here and now and say that self-publishing is, in my own opinion, a lesser form of publishing.  There’s no rule that says a self-published book has to be bad, but this is true more often than not if we’re honest with ourselves.  But there’s also a hell of a lot of bad professionally published books out there too, so what does that really mean?

I’m not against self-publishing if you really, really, really want to get published.  But there’s a lot of pitfalls to self-publishing, a lot of mistakes made by aspiring writers who seek to self-publish.  We should lay those on the table right now.

If you want to publish so badly just to have a book in your hand that you can show people, maybe sell a few copies here and there, then self-publishing is fine. If, however, you think this will make you a “real” writer, think again.  Most self-published books have a hell of a time achieving any kind of market penetration.  No matter how good the sales pitch a self-publishing company will give you, a self-published book faces a variety of obstacles a professionally published novel won’t.  And considering how hard it is for a professional published book to make an impression on the market, that should tell you something.

Booksellers know the difference between a self-published and a traditionally published book.  And, whether you like it or not, they do hold it against you if your book is self-published.  Space is limited in a brick-and-mortar store.  If they can order ten more of the latest bestseller or one copy of your brilliant self-published book . . . well, do I really need to finish that sentence?

Vanity publishers will lie to you.  They will tell you that your book will have every advantage a traditionally published book does.  Do NOT believe them.  They might even be sincere, but no matter how successful a vanity press is, it is and will always be a vanity press.

Maybe you don’t care about brick-and-mortar stores.  Maybe you’re thinking I’ll sell on Amazon and the magical internet.  No competition for shelf space there, right?  Sorta true.  Except that the internet is a ginormous marketplace, and in that marketplace, most everything except a fortunate few exist in shadowy darkened corners.  Someone might discover your book about the history of Eskimos.  But odds are good that there are likely about a dozen Eskimo history books available on the internet right now and they’ll probably all pop up on a search engine before yours does.

Promotion is key, and while authors have more power to reach out to their audience than ever before, this hasn’t leveled the playing field.  Because EVERYONE gets to reach out to their audience now.  It’s like wordprocessing programs and electronic submissions via internet.  These have made the nuts and bolts of writing easier than ever before and creating more competition than ever before.  So it is with the internet.  A million voices are all shouting for attention, and between the porno ads and the snuggie pop ups, standing out ain’t all that easy.

Self-promotion is grueling, difficult, rarely rewarding work.  I know several self-published authors, and I have tremendous respect for the hard work they do.  I don’t work nearly as hard in that department, but I do outsell these folks.  One ad in a magazine (paid for by my publisher) or one interview on a popular site (arranged usually by my publisher) will reach more people than I could ever on my own.  Monster, my 6th novel, sold pretty well.  I’d like to say that this was all because of my talent and hard work, but there’s no doubt in my mind that it has more to do with the fact that this was my first book to be put up front in the store.  This was arranged entirely by my publisher influence.  Without a publisher, this wouldn’t have happened.

Let’s just lay something out on the table here.  Anyone can be a self-published writer.  ANYONE.  But if you’re writing a book, you don’t want to be just anyone.  you want to be more than that.  You want to stand out.  You want respect.  You want money.  You want to reach people.  And all those things are almost impossible to do as a self-published author.  Hard truth.  End of story.  No arguments from the peanut gallery, please.

At this point, I’m sure all the self-publishing advocates will mention the few people who have been successful via the self-publishing path.  Good for them.  You will not be one of those people.  Okay, you might be one of those people.  But you also might wake up tomorrow to find the world has been consumed in nuclear fire and that you are a god worshipped by the new race of mutant snailmen.  It might happen, but I wouldn’t bet on it.

Every aspiring writer strives to be an anomaly.  Getting paid as a professional writer is a small miracle.  Getting self-published is just about writing a check.  Getting that check to turn into a writing career isn’t just a small miracle.  It’s parting the Red Sea level divine intervention.  Almost.

And here’s another ugly truth.  Vanity publishers might give you a big salespitch about how much they care about your book, how they believe in it, and how they’ll help you sell it.  But, really, most of them just want your money.  That’s the real difference between vanity press and professional publishing.  Both are in this business to make money.  One’s looking to make it from readers.  The other is looking to make it from aspiring writers.  Ask yourself before you self-publish.  Are you a writer?  Or a customer?

My agent has “The Gatekeeper” rule.  It’s a great metaphor for the situation.

Imagine there are two guards at a gate.  Both guards allow people into the city at their discretion.  Guard A gets no money for letting people in.  In fact, it costs Guard A $50 for every person he lets in.  Then he gets a percentage of their earned income for the next year.

Guard B gets no percentage.  He gets a flat $5 from everyone he lets into the city.

The metaphor is clumsy and obvious, but it illustrates the situation.  Guard A has to be discrimating.  Guard A probably is even willing to help everyone he lets in find a job because it’s in his best interests.  Guard B, on the other hand, benefits from letting everyone in and then just forgetting about them.  His best interest is just letling in as many people as possible.  Once there inside though, he couldn’t care less.  He might tell everyone how great the city is, how easy it is to make a living inside its walls, and how they’d be a sucker to pass up the opportunity for a mere $5.  He might even be right.  But that’s irrelevent to Guard B.  All he cares about is his $5.

Now, not every vanity press is like this.  I’m sure that there are honest, hard working self-publishing companies in existence, but I gotta figure that these companies are just as hard to find as a professional publishing house.  So you might as well go for the real deal.

This is running a little long.  I am not dead set against self-publishing, but I do think it is a decision that should not be taken lightly.  The only thing worse than a constant stream of rejection from editors and agents is to have a published book in the market that fades away into obscurity without a real shot.

In brief:

Vanity publishing will always have much harder time finding an audience.

Vanity publishing is rarely likely to make its writer any money.

Since these are the only two reasons I can imagine anyone wants to write a book, I think we should be up front about it.  Still want to self-publish?  That’s your call.  I wish you all the luck in the world.  Just don’t come cryin’ to me if it doesn’t work out.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

It got me thinking.  So many aspiring writers just don’t seem to “get” query letters.  A while ago, I wrote a blog post about it.  It ended up getting deleted when my website went through a spot of trouble, but fortunately, I had a backup at the ready.  I guess we could classify this a rerun blog, but hey, if you haven’t read it before, it’s new to you.  And more importantly, it’s something I think every aspiring writer should take a look at.

So without further ado…

Being a writer is tough.  Being an aspiring writer is tougher.  It seems like there are a million pitfalls, and you can never be sure if you’re doing the right thing or not.  So in search of inspiration for something to post about, I’d like to present a semi-formal feature where I address some common questions.  The kind of questions that I hear all the time.

Today, let’s talk about QUERY LETTERS.

Plenty of aspiring writers break into clammy, cold flopsweat about query letters.  You’ve put your heart and soul, blood and sweat, into writing your novel.  Then you have to figure out how to sell it in a one page letter.  It’s like meeting the guy / girl of your dreams and having 30 seconds to convince them that maybe a date is worth a shot.  Good luck on that.

Here’s the good news.  It’s not nearly as hard as you think.  I’m not suggesting that there’s any such thing as a perfect query letter or that after you read this you’ll be getting requests for your manuscript with every letter you send.  That just ain’t gonna happen.  Rejection is part of an aspiring writer’s life.  Even yours truly, gifted and talented as I am, had so many rejections that I can’t even remember them all.

Here’s the first thing, the most important thing, you need to remember about a query.  It’s a sales pitch.  A tiny, tiny sales pitch, but a pitch nonetheless.  All you’re trying to do is get the reader interested in hearing more.  It really doesn’t matter how you do it, but there are a couple of solid notions I adhere to.

QUESTIONS: Queries aren’t about answers.  They’re about questions.  Think about it.  You don’t go to a movie or buy a book because you know what’s going to happen.  You go because you want to know.  Or, if the sales pitch is really good, because you NEED to know.

Many aspiring writers tend to spell out their plot in their query letters.  Bad idea.  Most stories sound uninspiring when spelled out.  It just doesn’t matter how cool your story is.  It’ll sound dumb if you describe it in three or four sentences.  Or contrived.  Or, perhaps worst of all, uninteresting.

A great example available to all writers is found on the back of nearly every paperback book on the shelves of any bookstore.  The next time you’re in a bookstore, go ahead and pick a random genre and just start reading the back of books.  You’ll discover the perfect query letter format.  Colorful, intriguing, and mysterious.  They give questions, not answers.  They pose complications, not solutions.

Now most query letters should be shorter than what is written on the back of books.  But the principle is still the same.  Tease and intrigue.  Don’t explain.  Just pose questions and complications.

UNIMPORTANT DETAILS:  Don’t give unimportant information.  Don’t open your letter with details about yourself.  Even if you were a supermodel, ninja, jewel thief, rocket science, nobody really cares.  You’re selling your story, not yourself.  The first paragraph should really get right into your story if it can.  (Unless you’ve met this person before, in which case a sentence reminding them where they met / heard about you is a good thing to do.)

Don’t give the technical details at front.  Don’t tell your word count in the first paragraph.  Don’t tell how long it took you to write the book.  Don’t say that this is based on your life experience.  As my own agent once put it, if you’re writing something about yourself, what do you do when you run out of experiences to write about?

Remember that you’re trying to sell your book.  You are expected to be honest, but you aren’t expected to tell them stuff right off the bat things that will discourage them.  Word count is a great example.  If your book is 10,000 words longer than what the agent / editor wants, they might overlook that if your query letter was sufficiently interesting.  But if the first thing you do is tell them your book is too long, they’re likely to put it aside before even getting to your sales pitch.

THREE PARAGRAPHS / HALF A PAGE:  The shorter, the better.  When in doubt, cut it down.  My queries tended to get great results (though rejection followed after), and I kept mine down to three paragraphs / half a page.  The first paragraph was usually the tease, less about the story and more about something unique about it.  For GIL’S ALL FRIGHT DINER, for example, I listed the more fun and memorable elements of the supernatural: Zombie Cows, Magic 8 Balls, Pig Latin.

The next paragraph gave brief character mentions along with the weird situations they find themselves.

And the final paragraph gave the technical details, page count, genre, etc.  Done.  Don’t overstay your welcome.

ANOTHER IMPORTANT DON’T: Avoid strong comparisons to established writers.  It’s okay to mention a similarity, but it can be dangerous to make too much of it.  Sure, everyone’s looking for the next Harry Potter, but everyone is also writing the next Harry Potter.  In other words, it doesn’t really distinguish your novel.  It just makes it seem like another copycat.  And you’re better than that.

Well, look at that.  An awfully long entry for an awfully short subject.  Just remember.  It’s not as hard as you think it is.  And a bad query letter is better than no query at all.  So don’t get discouraged.

Just get to it.

And remember, I’m rooting for you.  Just as long as you don’t sell more books than me, that is.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

It’s because, as a modern writer, I’m not allowed to be quiet.  Simply put, I’m expected to be something of a celebrity, a personality.

Welcome to the internet age.

Out of all the surprises that were awaiting me on the other side of published author, this is perhaps the strangest.  Because writers are not interesting.  And writers are not cool.  And writers are not charismatic by nature.  We’re just people who write, and writing, by its nature, is a solitary activity.  Especially novels, where the bulk of my creative work is done sitting in front of a computer and typing.  It’s not much different than an office job, except that I do it at home, alone, sometimes late at night, sometimes while only wearing pajamas.  And only a few decades ago, that would’ve been enough.  Write the book, get the book published, collect your check, and repeat.

It’s not quite the same anymore.

I have a blog.  I contribute to the Orbit Books website.  I am probably very soon to contribute to the Piper Books website (my always lovely German publisher).  And then, there’s the personal appearances.  Not a lot of them, mind you, as not many people really care enough to invite me anywhere.  But this year, I had more conventions and speaking engagements than last year, and I expect that I’ll have even more next year.  I will if things go as they should anyway.

It’s a bit confusing.  Given my druthers, I’d probably just avoid the public eye all together.  It’s not that I mind public speaking or that I dislike being surrounded by adoring fans, lively aspiring writers, and fellow professional writers.  To tell the truth, it can be a hell of a lot of fun.  (So if you want to send any invites my way, feel free to do so because that’s my job and I am a very cool guy to meet in person.  Really, I am.)

At the last meeting of the DFW Writer’s Workshop, someone remarked that I was the charismatic guy, the helpful dude who talks to all the visitors, tries to make the new members feel batter, and just generally makes a good impression.  It’s who I am now.  It’s just how this job has changed me.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to figure out a topic for my Orbit Books contribution this week.  Then I have to check my Facebook and Twitter.  Then I gotta squeeze in some World of Warcraft.  And, if there’s time, I guess I’ll do a little writing too.

Busy, busy, busy.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Honestly, I don’t know the answer to any of those questions.  Writing is weird like that.  I write things.  I get paid.  Even if it doesn’t prove I’m good at it, proves that at least I can keep a roof over my head doing it.  And I get positive feedback on this blogging stuff.  Of course, that’s kind of a self-selecting audience.  Very few people take the time to post a comment telling me how obnoxious I am although I’m sure those folks are out there, too.

But ignoring those people and going by the checks that go into my bank account and the positive comments on my blogs and even the occasional real life person who says they read something of mine and liked it, I’ve got something going on here.  Some, dare I say it, talent.  (I dared.)

I hate that word though because it takes my job and makes it seem magical.  When really all I do is sit down in front of a computer and make up stories.  Anybody can do it.  Not anybody can do it well, but that doesn’t prevent a lot of bad writers from getting paid and getting paid well.  (Insert your favorite successful, untalented writer of choice here.)

That’s something I never forget.  No matter how good a writer I think I am, no matter how many people adore me (and while it’s not really that many people, it sure is a lot more than I ever expected), I could stink on ice.  I could be one of those bad but financially viable writers I make fun of.  Irony can be a real pain in the ass, huh?

Oh, and don’t bother telling me how great I am.  While it’s nice to hear, I’m not fishing for compliments.  Also, you might be one of those people with really bad taste that help encourage bad writers.  Either way, I thank you for indulging me because I’m a great writer, an adequate juggler, and a generally cool dude, but I’d probably be loading boxes on the night shift at UPS right now if it wasn’t for you.

Moving on . . .

So in addition to being a (disgruntled) comic book fan.  I’m also a game player.  I don’t know exactly when it happened, but somewhere, I crossed the line from hobbyist to full-blown enthusiast.  I know game companies the same way people know car manufacturers.  I even follow some game designers the same way movie afficianados follow directors.

(FYI:  Bruno Faidutti has yet to make a bad game.  Ad Astra is a current favorite among my small gaming group.)

If such a thing is even possible, game designers are even more obscure than novelologists.  While everyone has heard of Stephen King and Daniel Steele, who knows the name of the guy who designed Sorry?

Even the hobby is difficult to explain.  When people find out that you play games, they usually get this perplexed look on their face and say “Like Monopoly?”  Then I close my eyes and shake my head.

“Kinda. . . ”

I’ve pretty much given up on trying to explain it because unless you’ve experienced the joy of Heroscape, Monsterpocalypse, or Citadels, you just ain’t gonna get it.

And finally . . .

Godzilla would totally kick King Kong’s ass.  Don’t try denying it.  One is a huge, city destroying, radiaoctive, fire-breathing dinosaur.  The other is a big ape that couldn’t even climb a single building without getting shot down like a chump.

Biplanes?  Seriously?  That’s weak.  So until you get laser vision or the power to regenerate, Kong, you should probably stay out of the big leagues.  Just a suggestion.

And on that controversial note, I bid you all a good night.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Those Geico caveman commercials have crossed the line.  They were a mildly cute idea, but they’ve been around so long that I’ve actually developed some sympathy for the poor cavemen.  I know I’d be pretty pissed if Geico put up billboards declaring, “So easy, even a Mexican can do it!”  And, yeah, I know cavemen aren’t walking the streets, but still . . . it’s time to leave the cavemen in peace, guys.

Advice to all aspiring writers.  When you finally do make it, be very, very careful with your money.  Because, for better or worse, prompt payment just doesn’t happen.  I’m not complaining.  I understand that this is just how the business works.  But everything moves in slow motion in this business.  You have been warned.

 A zombie comic is a zombie comic is a zombie comic.  Just because you give the zombie a power ring and make them zombies from space, it doesn’t change anything.  And that’s fine.  Just don’t try to tell me it’s not.

More advice for aspiring writers:  You do not have the luxury of being shy.  I know.  You think you can write your brilliant novel, get it published, and just rake in the cash.  And maybe you can.  But J.D. Salinger aside, almost all succesful writers are personable, affable people.  From J.D. Rowling to Stephen King, Tom Clancy to Yours Truly, being comfortable talking to strangers is part of the job.

How many strong nurse shows do we need?

Most terrans have a weak grasp of science, and that’s a shame.  The universe is remarkably counter-intuitive, and our default “logic” usually leads us down the wrong road.  Biology, physics, medicine, and economics.  These are just a few of the areas where most everything you innately ”know” is just plain wrong.  But here’s the good news.  You live in the information age, gang.  You don’t have the same excuse to dwell in ignorance.  Make friends with science today.

Speaking of dwelling in ignorance, can we put to rest the birther conspiracy theory already?  It’s an outright lie that Obama wasn’t born in America.  (Funnily enough, John Mccain was born in Panama, but nobody seems to bring that up.  Probably because it’s a technicality that is completely irrelevant.)  I get that some people can be a little uneasy with a dark-skinned man as President (and if you want to believe that this rumor doesn’t rely on certain racial intolerances that’s your perogative), but just because you don’t like something, doesn’t make it not true.

We’re definitely in a transitional moment.  A black President?  (Okay, half-black but still that’s 50 percent more than any previous Prez.)  A latina Supreme Court judge?  There’s no doubt that we’re moving closer toward that melting pot we’ve always claimed to be, and for a certain group of people, that scares the crap out of them.  If I hear one more rich, white male bemoaning about racism . . .

I get it.  Nobody likes losing power.  And the white male dominance of America has lasted a long, long time.  You had a good run.  Now get over it. 

On the positive side, these moments of ”oppressed white victimhood” are becoming increasingly ludicrous.  And most people of all arbitrary racial distinctions seem perfectly comfortable with the changes.  And why shouldn’t they be?  It’s not the end of the world.  Hell, it’s not even a big change.

My favorite moment of white man’s outrage was when a white senator asked Sotomayor if she understood his discomfort with the notion that maybe her Latina background might prejudice her against white people.  And I found myself thinking:  A minority woman?  No, there’s no way she possibly ever had to deal with as much racial prejudice as a wealthy white senator.

And on that note of sarcasm, I think I’ll end this collection of random thoughts.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee