Dayton's Blog: A pimple on the ass of the Internet.

So, a co-worker and I are reviewing an error message generated by the third-party software application that our group uses to perform a significant part of our work. Though most of the core software was written by another company, we also add on scripts, GUI screens, and other functionality to suit our needs.

We're looking at the error message spit out by the app, and I go digging into the online help to get the description, probable causes, likely courses of corrective action, and so on. Now, I'm a guy with many, many years of software development experience (as in, some of the younger folk reading this weren't even born when I wrote my first programs). So, it was probably inevitable that I'd say what I said when I beheld what the software laughingly called its "internal documentation."

Me: "Who wrote this piece of shit?"

Co-worker: "A programmer."

Me: "A real programmer, or a 'I took a course at the learning annex because I heard an ad on the radio' programmer?"


Thank you for the inspiration, Richard Castle. :)

With the renewed fanboy/fangirl maelstrom that's accompanying the pending release of the new Twilight movie, to say nothing of the stacks of Twilight and other vampire/vampire hunter/vampire lover/etc. books I see whenever I walk into a book store, I've been thinking again about my back-burnered idea for a vampire book.

Maybe what I need is to give my would-be vampire hunter/pursuer/whatever a code he follows, whereby he only kills whiny emo vampires who insist on standing around moping and glowering at everybody with their head down and just generally annoying the fuck out of the rest of the vampire population (to say nothing of the humans who have to put up with their shit). Everybody knows that if a bloodsucker needs stakin', it's one of these blubbering bastards. What we need is a guy (or lady) who can deliver some hard truth smackdown and maybe even some common sense to these shrill crybabies, punctuating that tough love with the strike of a mallet.

You know: Dexter, the Vampire Interventionist.

Hmmm....

I'm watching Spike TV's 2009 Scream Awards, which I'd recorded to the DVR and then promptly forgot about. So far, the new Star Trek is well represented, with Zoe Saldana and Chris Pine being nominated for "breakout performances" and JJ Abrams winning an award as Best Director.

The weird, yet oh-so neat part? The crowd is cheering whenever something Trek-related shows up. They're not going ga-ga at Twilight levels, mind you, but they're still giving Trek its props.

Star Trek is cool again.

Sweet. :)

With respect to the 2009 World Series, I predict the following:

Game 1: Wednesday, October 28th - I'll be watching Battlestar Galactica: The Plan, followed perhaps by DVR'd episodes of NCIS and/or Criminal Minds. This may or may not be done while reviewing the copyedited manuscript and editor's notes for Counterstrike: The Last World War, Book II.

Game 2: Thursday, October 29th - I'll be watching (with the wife) the week's episode of Survivor, as she's taking part in a pool at work. I'll also likely pick up the latest episode of FlashForward. More likely, I'll turn attention to the magazine article I'm trying to finish up.

Game 3: Saturday, October 31st - I'll be handing out candy from the porch of Stately Ward Manor, and doing some online stuff (more on that in a follow-up post).

Game 4: Sunday, November 1st - We'll watch the latest episode of The Amazing Race (which is the only reality show I don't hate). If I'm not done polishing the magazine piece by this point, that's what I'll be working on.

Game 5: Monday, November 2nd (if necessary) - More Counterstrike rework (as required), and perhaps polishing a short story that's been hanging around for far too long. Oh, and Castle's a new episode.

Game 6: Wednesday, November 4th (if necessary): More NCIS and/or Criminal Minds? Could be. More editing. More writing on something else.

Game 7: Thursday, November 5th (if necessary): More Survivor. More editing. More writing on something else.

That should just about do it.

How do I do what?

Write.

Not the actual craft of writing, that is; rather, how do I keep getting asked to write this novel, that magazine article, this short story, and so on? It's a question that's come up...let's see...one, two, five billion times in recent years. Kevin Dilmore and I have discussed this more times than we've talked about what kind of underwear that waitress at Buffalo Wild Wings might be wearing.

So, you know the topic comes up pretty often.

This entry was prompted by an e-Mail I received last night. Said e-Mailer had finished reading my "September writing wrap-up" post and expressed their appreciation for the fact that I seem to have a lot of different things going on. A lot? Well, I suppose so, compared to some people. Compared to others? I'm a rank amateur. Check out kradical's journal if you want to see a guy who's keeping lots of different balls in the air. Personally, if I want to be reminded as to how much of a slacker I am, I check out all the different things my friend Kevin J. Anderson's doing. You don't have to be a fan of his to know that he's one of the hardest-working writers in this business. The man's a machine, I tell you.

But, Gentle Reader's questions were directed at me, not KRAD or Kevin, and were asking me, essentially, "How do you do it?" They're looking to do some freelance work of their own, and for better or worse had come to me while searching for advice, wanting to know how I manage to keep getting hired for such work.

( Writerly-related ramblings behind the cut. )

The other day, I was reading a thread on the TrekBBS where the original poster asked about best/favorite Star Trek book covers.

( Cover musings behind the cut. )

This isn't a movie review. It's just me rambling as I continue to consider the film I watched last night.

Taking Chance was but one on a stack of DVD's I've purchased over the past couple of months, but until recently haven't had time to watch. I knew it was a film I was going to want to watch, rather than simply let play in the background while I tended to other things. I also knew that watching it would bring back memories I had not revisited in quite some time, and to be honest I was reluctant to go down that road. So, on the stack of DVDs it sat, waiting for me to have an evening where I could dedicate my full attention to it.

Last night was the night.

I spent a good bit of time after the film concluded just sorting out what I'd watched, trying to make sense of the chaotic blur of memories as well as scenes from the film which were rushing around and past each other in my head. Beyond simply laughing at a joke, smiling or throwing out the occasional "Yeah!" at cool action, or flinching when something intense or even scary happens, it's a rare occasion for me to have any sort of true emotional reaction to a movie.

Simply put, Taking Chance knocked me on my ass.

It's not a war movie, nor a military propaganda piece. Based on actual events, it's simply the story of one young man and the impact he made on those around him, in death as well as throughout his all-too brief life. The story focuses on Lieutenant Colonel Michael Strobl (as portrayed by Kevin Bacon), a Marine officer stationed at Quantico in 2004 who volunteers to escort home the remains of Private First Class Chance Phelps, a young Marine killed in Iraq. Strobl is at first drawn to Phelps upon learning they both hail from the same town in Colorado. Though he's later told Phelps will be transported to Dubois, Wyoming, because that's where his family resides, Strobl still opts to act as the fallen Marine's escort. The balance of the film covers Strobl's journey from the military mortuary at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware to Dubois, accompanying the casket containing Phelps' remains every step of the way.

I've performed escort duty, so I can attest to the care -- even reverence -- with which the body of a fallen service member is handled throughout the process of preparing the remains for transport home. No detail is overlooked, no task performed in perfunctory fashion. It is a solemn undertaking, carried out with precision and respect. In this and many other areas, the film's accuracy is to be praised.

The scenes depicting PFC Phelps' journey were difficult to watch. Unlike LtCol Strobl, I knew the Marine I escorted; he was one of mine. I got the call about his death on Easter Sunday in 1996, and I spent the next eight days inventorying his personal effects, overseeing every aspect of the preparations to take him home, and accompanying his casket. Except for the actual flight, I spent every moment of the journey from Kansas City to his home town in arm's reach of his casket, to include sitting with it in a cargo hangar at the airport. I spent three days with his family and friends, listening to their stories and attending his funeral. I was struck by how loved and respected he was by the countless people I encountered. It was one of the most emotionally-taxing experiences of my life, and it naturally was nothing compared to what the family was enduring.

As I watched the movie, I couldn't stop those recollections from coming forth, but it wasn't until I got to the scenes of Strobl standing vigil alongside Phelps' casket that they all just seemed to push forward and hammer at me. I had to pause the film more than once and just sit there, processing long-dormant memories. Easter never passes without me pausing to remember the young Marine (I do the same thing on Halloween, owing to an unrelated yet similarly tragic incident involving another Marine), though this was something I hadn't really pondered for years. In my head, it was 1996 again, and I had just returned home, drained from the heart-wrenching duty I'd completed.

It may well be the oddest damned thing that's ever happened to me while watching a movie; the closest thing to a "flashback" I've experienced. When it was over, I just let the thoughts and memories roam at will, sorting themselves out. This blog entry was originally going to be about something completely unrelated to the movie or my reactions, but once I started typing it all just came out.

Weird.

Earlier today, my editor at Pocket Books sent for my review a set of documents containing the cover copy which will appear inside and outside the front and back covers of Counterstrike. I made a few suggestions for minor tweaks and sent them back this evening, then paused to ponder her one other request:

"Also, I’ll need an author photo with credit in the next couple of weeks."

Apparently, the pic will also go inside the back cover. First time for everything, I guess!

So, I'm pondering getting a "real" publicity photo done up. I figure it's time I did that. I've been skating by on various pics taken by Michi or friends, but nothing approaching the quality of a professional photographer. Add in the fact that I pretty much hate having my picture taken, and we're talking a real fun time for me coming up soon.

I suppose I couldn't just get by using one of these?

Got an interesting e-Mail from a fan today, who just came off reading the 4400 novel Kevin and I wrote, Wet Work. Said fan had read some of our Star Trek stuff, and took a chance on WW even though she'd never watched the show (how's that for fan loyalty, eh?). Apparently, that wasn't an obstacle, as she said she was able to follow the story and got all the backstory from the series that she required as she went along. I guess, so far as she was concerned, we did our jobs.

She also posed a question to me: What other properties, other than Star Trek or The 4400, would I like to write fiction for if given the opportunity? It's a question I've pondered in the past, of course. The main requirement is that I'd have to be a fan of the property if I'm going to pursue such opportunities. Fans who read this stuff can tell when a writer doesn't know the material, and I don't want to be one of those writers who takes a tie-in gig simply for the paycheck. I want to have as much fun writing the bloody thing as a fan (hopefully) will have reading it.

So, here's what I answered. For purposes of the question, I limited my responses to a few properties which currently have tie-in novel licenses:

Planet of the Apes - BLAM!ventures has recently acquired a license to publish novels based on the original PotA continuity (none of that Burton shit). I found out about this at Comic-Con, and my jealousy meter instantly pegged out at 10. I am a huge, unapologetic nerd for the Apes.

24 - I love the Jack Bauer Power Hour. Every season seems to get more ridiculous than the last, but I still enjoy watching it for simple entertainment value. I've read about half of the novels published for this series, and I'm reasonably confident I could pull off such a book.

The Unit - Kevin and I actually threw our hats into the ring to be considered for the novels based on this (now defunct) series. To hear Kevin's agent tell it, we were among the very last authors to be "cut" before they decided on the writer. While my military background probably would've been helpful in crafting "main" plots focusing on the Unit members, I also was intrigued by the idea of exploring the "B-plots" featuring the wives and other people back home while the soldiers were away on missions.

Burn Notice - This is one of my current favorite shows. Tod Goldberg has done a superb job capturing the voice of Michael Westin in the two books he's done so far, but that doesn't stop me from wishing I could get in on that action. Besides, getting to write for a Bruce Campbell character is a reward unto itself.

This isn't meant to be an inclusive list, but it's what I answered to said fan off the cuff. I'm sure I'll think of three or four other properties the second after I hit "Post."

The day started off as most Sundays do nowadays, with Michi and me packing up the kids to go and have breakfast with Michi's dad at the retirement village where lives. It's become a weekly event now, with many of the residents looking forward to seeing the girls as much as Grandpa does. Once we finish breakfast, we wander down to one of the rec rooms and Grandpa plays with the girls while Michi and I take turns kicking each other's ass at pool.

I won. This time. Of course, she beat me at the game of checkers we were playing at the same time. ("Secret Agent Obstacle Pool Checkers!")

The rest of the day will be relatively quiet. So far as writing is concerned, I'll spend a little bit of time wrapping up my weekly freelance gig, then -- if I'm feeling froggy -- I may give some attention to playing with a pet project that Kevin and I keep yapping about. I've also got some stuff to look over as provided by Flying Pen Press with respect to the Space Grunts anthology, and with luck I'll be sending contracts out to the book's contributing authors this week.

The weather's looking nice, and if the trend continues I may spend some time in the back yard this afternoon, cleaning up the spa and starting the process of filling and warming it, and adding the necessary chemicals to make sure it doesn't turn into a giant science experiment.

It also occurs to me that we have several episodes each of Nip/Tuck, Criminal Minds, and NCIS on the TiVo, and I have a few backlogged eps of Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles. I have a stack of comics I'd like to read one day, to say nothing of the books on my "research pile" for a forthcoming project.

Okay. Maybe it won't be such a lazy Sunday after all.

Last night, I fired off the outline for what will be my second novel project for 2009. If all goes well, I'll get to dive into that one about five minutes after I hand in my manuscript for the second Last World War book.

(Wow. It still feels weird to be writing a sentence like that. Never thought it would happen, that's for sure. Anyway....)

The last couple of days have been interesting, in that they've brought with them no less than four requests for interviews, three of them unsolicited. The fourth one was in response to an interviewer posting to a Trek e-Mail loop about forthcoming interviews with other Trek novelists, and then casting a net in search of other writers who might be interested. As I said there, I'm a shameless whore, so I raised my hand. (Have I mentioned that I'm a shameless whore?)

As it happens, this is the interview which was the first to "book" me. It's for a Star Trek program on BlogTalkRadio, the hosts of which will be talking to me on the evening of Sunday, May 3rd, at 10pm Central Time. More details to follow as things firm up.

Before then, the program also will be hosting interviews with Keith DeCandido (kradical) on April 7th, and David Mack (infinitydog) on April 21st. On May 5th, the MackDaddy returns with some folks from various Trek fan productions, to hoot n' holler before the new Trek movie hits theaters. I'd be listening on that night, but it's entirely possible I'll be attending a special screening of the movie that night (:: cue evil laugh ::).

It also looks like I'll be talking in the next week or so with the guys at Trekcast, a weekly Star Trek podcast that I've been listening to for a while now. One of the hosts is none other Darren Benjamin, long known to Vegas-bound Trekkies as one of the bad-ass bartenders at Quark's, of the late and lamented Star Trek: The Experience. Kevin and I met Darren and fellow bartender Jeff at the San Diego Comic-con a couple of years ago, and have maintained sporadic contact since then (you always make friends with a bartender or three, if you're smart). Not sure yet on the date/time for that, but obviously I'll be stuffing that info in here somewhere when I get it.

Info on other possible interviews/bouts of shameless whoring as it becomes available. Stay tuned!

So, after several weeks' worth of planning, including securing trusted friends to babysit the kids as well as check on our dogs, Michi and I set out for our day/night out and to celebrate our forthcoming anniversary.

We headed across town to the Legends, a somewhat new and still pretty boomin' shopping, dining, and entertainment district on the Kansas side, just across from the Kansas Speedway. After soliciting several recommendations from various friends, we opted to try the food at the Yard House, where Michi had a "spicy tuna roll" consisting of seared ahi, avocado, edamame, and cucumber with a wasabi soy sauce, whereas I went the other direction with a Kansas City strip steak. We both chose to take advantage of the bar, as well, with Michi enjoying a couple of "Bikini Tinis" made with cruzan banana rum, malibu pineapple rum, pineapple juice, and remy red, and I was fairly happy with the margaritas (Jose Cuervo...you are a friend of mine). The biggest thrill was -- of course -- being able to eat and enjoy an entire meal without stopping to deal with any number of minor issues/etc. which arise when one your toddlers is trying to feed him/herself and hilarity ensues. After dropping an easy C-note there and once we'd finished eating, we walked off our meal by checking out the shopping area, which I hadn't visited since the place was still largely under construction. The weather was perfect for walking around outside. We picked up a couple of items for the kids, then headed for the hotel where we'd made reservations for the night.

There are hotels, and then there's the Chateau Avalon.

Each of the hotel's 62 rooms is designed to one of 23 themes, which I can't do justice so you'll just have to visit the website and take the virtual tours. We'd stayed there once before and had a great time, and on this trip we elected to return to the room/theme we'd enjoyed during our previous stay, the "Tuscany." As the name suggests, the room recreates the look and feel of an Italian villa. We did the spa soak thing, enjoyed more tasty beverages, and generally just allowed the stresses of work and whatever to wash away.

Oh, and we got to sleep in the next morning. Halle-freakin'-lujah!

We were able to maintain the illusion of being on a vacation long enough to enjoy breakfast to order in our room, and even a brief mid-morning nap before succumbing to the call of responsibility. Heading back across town, we retrieved our offspring, who thankfully were perfect angels while in the care of our friends.

(Attempts to extend their stay while we headed out again were met with more than slight resistance, however.)

A very nice way to recharge. :)

Something occurred to me last night as I sat at my desk, attempting to piece together the disparate chunks of nonsensical notes and other detritus on my way toward possibly completing an outline for my next novel project:

( Assorted ramblings behind the cut.... )

Anyway, the show goes on, and all that.

I should be working on finishing the current Trek project. I could even be working on the outline for the next Trek project. Heck, I might even be well-served to be reading some specific Trek books in order to research the outline for said Trek project. Barring any of that, I could be writing up the next TNG trivia quiz for SciFi.com.

What am I doing?

I'm dicking with the outline for the vampire story. Again.

Sigh.

I already relayed this story, in somewhat abbreviated form, to infinitydog, but here's a slightly longer version:

So, I'm at the bookstore today, and passing through the various fiction sections on my way to the history aisles, my brain registers the sheer number of different books featuring vampires, vampire hunters, vampire slayers, vampire hookers, vampire strippers, vampire private eyes, and so on. Cripes, but the damned things are everywhere.

I get it. Vampires are hot. Editors can't seem to get enough of them, the people who hunt them, the people who lust after them, whatever. Me? I've read a few vampire books over the years (one of my favorite books of all time is I Am Legend), and despite a few tentative steps into this particular pool I must confess that the recent explosion of vampire chicks/vampire hunter chicks in tight leather pants and matching vests with back-tats just isn't my thing. I don't hate them, and I've been asked on occasion if I have an idea for a story or two that might take advantage of the current popularity. If you'd asked me as much yesterday, I'd have said "Nope. I don't have anything new or original to bring to the table."

That was yesterday. Today? Different story. Maybe.

After glancing across the different vamp tales, I proceeded through the store and got the book I was after. On my way out the door, I paused long enough to grab a copy of the new edition of The Pitch, an independent weekly newspaper here in Kansas City. What's the cover story? "True True Blood." The tagline? "As pop culture sucks on myths, some real Kansas City vampires tell their stories."

Come on. Are you shitting me? Whatever.

So, I mentioned this to the aforementioned infinitydog while adding that if ever I decided to write a vampire story, the first line would be the POV character saying, "Let's get something straight: I fucking hate vampires," and figure out where to go from there.

I said it in jest, but then the wheels started turning. I started scribbling notes on a pad of paper in between various tasks at work, and before I knew it, I had two pages of crap which smelled suspiciously like the start of an outline.

Son of a bitch.

So, here I sit, doodling with this notion when I should either be A) working to finish a project that's due soon, or B) beginning work on an outline that's due in three weeks for a new tie-in project. I'll set it aside shortly and go back to "A," but I must admit that I'm starting to like what I'm seeing in my scribblings. There might be something here.

Know any editors who might interested?

Last month, I illustrated why I think I'm not a good candidate for using Twitter.

Now, it's a month later, and I've come to realize that a lot of people I know, admire, respect, lust after, etc. use Twitter to varying degrees and for numerous reasons. While I don't post to LJ, MySpace, or Facebook with the same frequency as other folks, I did resolve in the new year that I would work on that, at least to the extent where I thought it made good sense so far as promoting myself and my writing was concerned, as well as having my own brand of fun sounding off about things that interest me...or just piss me off.

(And as a means of shamelessly bragging about the kids, of course.)

But, I've been hesitant to embrace Twitter. Something about the immediacy of the medium seems off-putting to me. When it comes to blogging, I tend to give at least some thought to most entries, even the stuff that pisses me off -- if for no other reason than to at least make sure I don't reuse the same jokes from older entries too often.

(Hey, I have a reputation to protect, dagnabbit.)

On the other hand, the back-n-forth potential that comes from responses to a particularly juicy or funny Twitter update has its appeal. I've also begun thinking about the fun I could have with it as I travel to different cons this year. Some of the shenanigans at Shore Leave would provide enough material to give me Carpal Tunnel Syndrome after one night at the bar.

So, for the folks who Twit, Tweet, and all that jazz, and who really dig using it, give it to me straight: What do you think? Waste of time for somebody like me?

With my lunch today, came sauce packets with the following captions:

- Will you scratch my back?

- Not it!

- Thanks for rescuing me. Hot was getting on my nerves.

- This space for rent. Inquire within.


I now return you to your lives, already in progress.

It was 2 degrees when I left the house this morning.

You read that right. 2. Degrees. Before the wind chill. I looked all over, but I couldn't find that fleece jockstrap, so I'm dealing as best I can.

As Lewis Black might say on a day like this, where the fuck is that global warming when we need it?

To spare you good people from having to read stuff like this:

Dayton's Twitter Tweets for Today:

• 06:15 Addy jumped on the bed, crushing my testicles. I guess I'm up. #
  
• 06:28 Everything is back where it belongs. #
  
• 06:30 Stumbled to bathroom. #
  
• 06:32 We're out of toilet paper. #
  
• 06:33 Sorry about your nightshirt, honey. #
  
• 06:48 Yogurt and a bagel for breakfast. Strawberry smear. Yum. #
  
• 06:55 That weather girl is hawt. #
  
• 09:03 Off to Kohl's to buy work pants. #
  
• 09:41 No, this can't be my waist size. #
  
• 09:47 Standing in line to check out at Kohl's #
  
• 09:48 Standing in line to check out at Kohl's #
  
• 09:49 Standing in line to check out at Kohl's #
  
• 09:50 Standing in line to check out at Kohl's #
  
• 10:08 Standing in line to check out at Kohl's #
  
• 10:11 I'm free of Kohl's! #
  
• 10:54 Sitting at computer, reading message board dumbassedness. #
  
• 10:56 Composing reply to message board dumbassedness. #
  
• 10:57 Backing out reply to message board dumassedness. Life's too short. #
  
• 11:23 Wife's running errands, leaving me with the kids. Whoops. #
  
• 11:34 Fixing lunch for Addy. #
  
• 11:35 Swiping a bite of Addy's lunch. #
  
• 11:36 Bribing Addy not to tell Mommy about lunch-swiping. #
  
• 11:59 Watching Kung Fu Panda on DVD. #
  
• 12:37 I awaken with drool on my shirt as I hear the garage door opening. #
  
• 12:38 Hi Honey! Everything went great! #
  

And so on....

See? Aren't you better off?

Score another one for our local news folks.

For the past several weeks, one station in particular here in the Kansas City area has been telling us over and over about the Digital TV conversion coming in February. They've even gone so far as to conduct "tests," whereby they switch from their analog signal to the new digital signal during the newscast. These are so very helpful, as they warn viewers ahead of time to turn on all the TVs in their house, and wait for the switch-over test to see if all is ready for the conversion.

One such test occurred during the local station's 9pm broadcast. The perky blonde newscaster took us into the station's "operations center" and talked us through the procedure of how she would press The Magic Button to switch the signal from analog to digital. She even counted down before pressing The Button.

"3...2...1...now."

After pressing the button, she turned back to the camera and said, "If you're seeing this, that means you're ready for the digital switch!"

I, of course, could sense what was about to happen. I could feel it in my gut; in my bones. I tried to look away, to plug my ears, or at least cover my face so as to avoid the bukkake shower of Utter Stupid I knew was coming my way, but I was frozen in place. Time slowed down. Light warped. Blood rushed in my ears. I could feel the individual beats of my heart pounding in my chest.

Thump......Thump.........Thump...............

And then, it happened.

The perky blonde newscaster actually said, "If you can't see or hear me right now, then you're seeing a black screen with information on what to do to get your TV ready for the conversion." She then went on at length about what those poor saps who could not currently see or hear her should do in order to make their TV ready for the digital conversion.

Then she pushed The Magic Button once again, returning the digital signal to analog and restoring the space-time continuum to normal, and leaving me staring with mouth agape at what I had just seen and heard.

Teh Stupid: It does indeed burn. Hot.