Category Archives: Musings

Writers, Damaging My Calm

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This falls under the category of “how not to respond to rejection.”

KEEP CALM - CARRY ON
(“Keep Calm – Carry On,” by John Cooper, on Flickr under Creative Commons.)

Sometimes writers put my tact and diplomacy to the test. Witness this response I received from one author:

Dear Gray:

Your statement “it does not seem right for us” tells me no one read my book. Someone should read it because I am a phenomenal writer. How about you? I would like for you to read my book, then write to me and tell me why it is not good enough to publish. Everyone has a little free time, Gray, what do you have to lose? If it really is not right for Baen, just stop reading, but give it a few chapters before you write it off.

Thank you in advance for your help.

This is the kind of thing that makes me want to jump through the computer screen and throttle the person on the other side. Rather than responding directly with a virtual flamethrower, I’ve decided to use this as a teaching example for other writers who are submitting their work for evaluation.

There is so much wrong with this writer’s response that I have to take it point-by-point:

  • “Your statement ‘it does not seem right for us’ tells me no one read my book.” Funny, it should tell you that it did not seem right for us.
  • “Someone should read it because I am a phenomenal writer. ” Thank you for pointing that out. It wasn’t obvious from what I read of your manuscript.
  • “How about you?” I did.
  • “I would like for you to read my book, then write to me and tell me why it is not good enough to publish.” And I would like for someone to unload a dump truck full of money in my driveway, but it’s unlikely to happen.
  • “Everyone has a little free time, Gray, what do you have to lose?” More of the remaining seconds of my life, which are fewer and fewer every second. Funny how that works.
  • “If it really is not right for Baen, just stop reading, but give it a few chapters before you write it off.” I did stop reading. I gave it as much as I deemed fit. I won’t say how much. (I believe the most classic response to complaints along these lines was Isaac Asimov’s, who reportedly told an author that he did not have to eat an entire egg to know it was rotten.)
  • “Thank you in advance for your help.” You’re welcome, I guess?

Writers, please don’t do this. No, strike that expression of polite consideration: Writers, don’t do this.

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On My Last Day at NCSU-IES, Here’s a Song

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Today is my last day on the Industrial Extension Service staff, and it seemed appropriate to mark the day with the first “workplace ‘filk'” I wrote there, simply entitled “The I-E-S Song.”

I started in January 2008 as primarily the speechwriter for the Executive Director, and I filled my time between speeches with other — primarily marketing-related — writing and editing assignments. But along the way I had the opportunity to do a few unique and interesting things:

  • Planned the logistics for the statewide “Manufacturing Makes It Real” Tour in 2010 (which became the still-extant MMIR Network)
  • Got some of the “Made in North Carolina” products we collected into the NC Museum of History
  • Helped start the short-lived NC Aerospace Initiative in 2009-10
  • Produced the “Manufacturing Minute” series of videos in 2012-13

And along the way I wrote a few songs: “The I-E-S Song” in 2008; “The Economic Recovery Blues” and “Oh, How I Hate Groupwise” in 2009; “The 1B4NC Song,” “We Know Manufacturing Makes It Real” in 2010; “If You Want to Get Better” and “The Old, Old Days of Industry” in 2011; and “Dirty, Sexy Manufacturing” in 2012.

Note that none of my work-related songs made it onto my album, Truths and Lies and Make-Believe. The audience for my music is already pretty small, but the audience for workplace songs in particular is tiny.

Anyway, I wrote a little rhyme to mark my departure, too.

It’s been fun
I had a good run
And now I’m done.

Fare thee (or, fare me) well.

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Ever Heard of the Logan Awards?

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Do you like comedy music? Would you like to nominate a funny song for an award?

Logan Award Robot Cat Statuette
(The “Robot Cat” statuette, designed by artist Jamie Noguchi in honor of Logan Whitehurst’s song “Robot Cat.”)

The Logan White­hurst Memo­r­ial Awards for Excel­lence in Com­edy Music are pre­sented by The Funny Music Project. The Awards will be selected by a jury and presented at “FuMPFest 2014” in Chicago, hosted by Dr. Demento.

The FuMP has presented the Logan Awards since 2011 for

  • Out­stand­ing Orig­i­nal Com­edy Song
  • Out­stand­ing Par­ody Song
  • Out­stand­ing Com­edy Music Video

If you want to nominate a song released in 2013 for the 4th Annual Logan Awards, use this handy nomination form. You can also see what songs have already been nominated.

The web site doesn’t say when the nominations will close, so nominate while you can — early and often!

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Frank Zappa, “Weird Al” Yankovich, and Me

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Now THERE’S a headline I never thought I’d write, and I get to do it courtesy of Dr. Demento!

Weird Al and Dr. Demento
(“Weird Al” Yankovich and Dr. Demento. Photo by Genevieve, from Flickr under Creative Commons.)

I felt as if I was levitating when I learned that two — not one, but TWO — of my songs had been played on The Dr. Demento Show since the beginning of the year. (Sure, since then other things have brought me down, but when I think about this it still puts a smile on my face.)

“Another Romulan Ale” seems like an appropriate song for New Year’s, and Dr. Demento played it on his first show of 2014. And, sure enough, Frank Zappa and “Weird Al” Yankovich were on the playlist — along with Cheech & Chong and Bob Dylan. Quite a group!

Then on the 1st of March the Dr. did a show focusing on music related to science fiction:

This week Dr Demento presents The History of Science Fiction in Song…from “Stardrek” and “Banned from Argo” to “Tauntauns to Glory” in 80 minutes…plus “We Won’t Give ‘Em Sex,” “Winestoned Plowboy,” “There’s a Baby On the Plane”, more.

Folks familiar with science fiction and fantasy music (a.k.a. “filk”) know that “Banned from Argo” is arguably the most famous filk song of all time. So it’s one thing for Dr. Demento to decide to play “Tauntauns to Glory,” but for him to list it in the show description in the same breath as “Banned from Argo” … that took this whole experience over the line into surrealism, even before I realized I was on the playlist again with “Weird Al,” this time plus Devo, Nat “King” Cole, Frank Hayes, and Leslie Fish.

So, yeah, good times!

If you like “Romulan Ale” or “Tauntauns” or some of the other songs from Truths and Lies and Make-Believe, and think Dr. Demento should play more of them, he has a song request form you can fill out. That would be cool, or I’d be much obliged if you would post a review on Amazon or iTunes or CD Baby or elsewhere. That would be awesome!

Meanwhile, as the Dr. would say, stay “deeeee-mented”!

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Living in Interesting Times — 30 Years Past 1984

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How much is our world in 2014 like the 1984 that George Orwell described?


(George Orwell. Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

In other words, how much of our world as it exists now — particularly the technology-saturated Western world — would Orwell recognize as reflecting his cautionary tale?

The television in my living room doesn’t watch me watching it, the way the citizens’ did in the novel, but it certainly has enough electronics to keep track of what I watch and deliver that information to marketers without my being aware of it. And my laptop has a camera that could have been watching me as I typed this blog entry — and it could have done so without my knowledge. In addition, consider the proliferation of closed-circuit TV surveillance cameras in big cities around the world. Orwell might say we were indeed living in the world of his novel.

And remember, his novel was written in 1947-48, and published in 1949.

I can think of a few other parallels between our world today and the dystopia Orwell envisioned:

  • In the novel, Oceania is locked in a near-perpetual war with Eurasia and Eastasia. No matter how hopeful about (or intent we are on) extricating ourselves from the Terror War, it seems likely the terrorists will have different ideas (something I wrote about in my 2002 essay, “Yogi Berra, Polybius, and the Recurring Jihad”). And that says nothing about the rise of Chinese power and the resurgence of Russian ambitions (e.g., their looming presence over Ukraine).
  • In the novel, history is frequently rewritten to excise people and ideas that have fallen out of favor, something that was observable in Orwell’s day especially in the Soviet Union. Today, the ‘Net and its archives may prevent that kind of complete removal, but here in the U.S. some “progressive” historical interpretations are changing the perceptions of our traditional heroes — history being rewritten not to excise, but to diminish, people and ideas no longer favored.
  • In the U.S. recently we have seen a lot of animus toward the “top 1%” as well as emphasis on the shrinking middle class and the expanding ranks of people dependent on the government for their support. In some respects this seems to mirror the class structure depicted in the story.

And of course we have Orwell’s famous concept of “doublethink,” which we encounter almost daily at both ends of our political spectrum. Especially with respect to the idea of personal liberty, many people at either end seem simultaneously to support and resist personal freedom; or perhaps those who support all personal freedoms equally, from bearing arms to abortion, just don’t attract much attention.

What do you think? Even though it’s 2014, are we close to 1984?

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How Coca-Cola’s “America the Beautiful” Commercial Could Have Been Awesome

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It was a pretty good commercial, I thought.

But they missed a great opportunity to make a simply good commercial into something spectacular.

Coca Cola Sign in Decatur Texas
(“Coca Cola Sign in Decatur Texas,” by anyjazz65, on Flickr under Creative Commons.)

I understood what they were getting at in the commercial: that people who originate all over the world have come — and continue to come — to this land of freedom and opportunity. Not only that, but no matter where we originate we can all appreciate both the physical grandeur of this country and the truths we hold self-evident in this marvelous nation.

So what would have made it awesome?

If, in the finale, they had gathered all the singers and other participants into one place, and had them sing “from sea to shining sea” as one chorus.

Doing so would have illustrated the “melting pot” ideal, in which no matter our origins we become part of the magnificent cultural alloy that is the U.S. citizenry. In some respects it would have fulfilled the promise of the old “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing” commercial. And, perhaps most important, it would have reminded us that we are at our best when we are “E Pluribus Unum” — out of many, one.

It could have been awesome.

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A School of Sphericity

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Many years ago I thought about starting a school that would emphasize “sphericity,” by which I meant the property of being well-rounded.

Armillary Sphere
(“Armillary Sphere,” by francisco.j.gonzalez, on Flickr under Creative Commons.)

To me the concept of personal sphericity is summed up in one of my favorite Robert A. Heinlein quotes —

A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.

— which seemed like the basis of a unique and interesting curriculum (so long as we didn’t push students so far as to experience the last item in the long list). My idea was to start a school that would equip every student not only with the “three Rs” but with practical skills, and would give them experience not only with those specific tasks listed but with related activities that they represent.

This idea came back to mind recently when a colleague wrote this blog post. She wrote about designers Emily Pilloton and Matt Miller, who started Studio H in Bertie County, North Carolina, as a “‘design/build’ public school curriculum that sparks community development through real-world, built projects.” They taught “fundamentals of design, architecture and construction to high school students,” though after the first year they took the program to California because the local school district had cut funding for their salaries.

In that one project, then, we find several items from Heinlein’s list: not only the obvious “design a building” and “build a wall,” but “balance accounts” (in terms of budgeting for the project), “cooperate,” “analyze a new problem,” and likely several more. It seems like a wonderful educational experience to me, and I applaud Pilloton and Miller for pursuing the idea and wish them luck in the future.

I don’t know quite how to go about starting such an enterprise, but I think a school of sphericity would be marvelous, and its graduates would be well-poised to take on whatever challenges awaited them. What do you think?

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The Social Peril of Asking a Difficult Question

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So, I was “unfriended” by someone on Facebook yesterday.

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Those readers who have dealt with me on the Book of Faces probably aren’t surprised, since I can be even more of a jerk online than I am in real life. But it took me by surprise.

A little context: The gentleman (whom I like and am happy to consider a friend, though I suppose it’s more like we’re just acquaintances now) posted a graph showing an international comparison of the U.S. and a couple dozen other rich nations. He didn’t originate the graph, he “shared” it, so I was surprised by his reaction when I questioned the mathematical choices of the people who put it together.

(As an aside, I should explain that it seemed to me that the graph was contrived to make the U.S. look bad, since we were next-to-last in the select group of nations. I withheld that judgment. I also had questions about the actual data presented, including what operational definitions had been used and whether they were consistent across all the nations represented; from research I’ve done, I understand this can be a problem with international comparisons.)

I was most curious about why the researchers had selected “50% of the median household income” as the cutoff point for the comparison. Knowing the median value of a data set — the middle value when all the data are arranged in ascending order — can be useful, but less so when the mean (the arithmetic average) is not presented, but I wondered specifically why 50% of the median was significant.

So I asked the question. I didn’t phrase it as a question, which was probably a mistake; instead, I said something along the lines of “someone will need to explain to me why it makes sense to use 50% of the median.”

What followed was a confusing illustration of the fragile bonds of social media.

My correspondent posted a couple of links purported to show that the value in question was some kind of standard for defining poverty. Even if that were true — I eventually found other references that showed alternative values — one of the references had nothing to do with median income, and neither explained the rationale behind selecting the specific fraction of the median.

So I asked the question again — and in the form of a question this time. I asked why 50% of the median was selected, as opposed to 50% of the mean, or 50% of the mode, or some other percentage of the median. I hoped that someone who saw the exchange might be able to answer the question.

Instead, the next time I tried to look at the thread I found that I no longer had access to it. Following up, I discovered that he had terminated our FB friendship.

Surprised at his reaction, I contacted him off-line — because I’m just that kind of jerk — and apologized if I had offended him. The details of our subsequent exchange are unimportant, but suffice it to say that I got the impression that he had grown tired of my questioning (let alone challenging) sources he considered unassailable.

I wondered, in all of this, about my own motivation when posting particular news items or research results. Do I do so for the “echo chamber” effect, to collect “likes” and positive comments from friends who think the way I do? If I claim to do it in hope that it might educate or enlighten friends who think differently, am I fooling myself? Do I really post such things for the “poke ’em in the eye” effect? And, no matter my motivation, should I be surprised that provoking thought might lead to provoking responses, including responses that disagree with my own?

I am still disappointed that my question about the statistic wasn’t answered, and my own brief research into the matter hasn’t been very enlightening. But I’m even more disappointed that asking the question wasn’t met with a simple, “Hey, I don’t know, you’ll have to ask someone else” but instead was given the coldest of shoulders. Because if we can’t ask questions and engage in a sincere give-and-take, how can we expect to learn?

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The Appleseed Collective

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Last week I ventured into downtown Raleigh for an evening of music featuring my nephew, Ben Rolston, and the band he recently joined.


(Four-fifths of The Appleseed Collective, playing at Tir na nOg in Raleigh.)

Raleigh is a far piece from The Appleseed Collective‘s hometown of Ann Arbor, Michigan, but they had stopped in on the homeward leg of a tour through the southeast. Described as mixing “the Hot Club of Paris with the sweaty soul of Dixieland, a couple blades of bluegrass, a pinch of ragtime beat, and a western swinging swagger,” the band put on a terrific show at Tir na nOg Irish pub.

As their web site notes,

Everybody brings something fresh to the table. Upon returning from a trip to New Orleans, guitarist Andrew Brown had a song in his heart that just wouldn’t quit–when a chance meeting introduced him to Brandon Smith, violinist and improvisation enthusiast, Andrew knew he’d found the Stephane Grapelli to his Django Reinhardt. Vince Russo, percussionist and van-packing expert, speaks freely and cleverly with each clack of the washboard or ding of the short-order cook’s bell. Katie Lee brings a vocal range that is a force to be reckoned with. It’s angelic one moment and powerhouse the next, all complemented by twinkling banjo melodies. And the addition of double bassist Ben Rolston to the mix delivers a level of musicality and jazz sophistication that sends hearts a-flutter.

Here’s a video of them performing one of the songs from their Baby to Beast album:

I got to catch up a little with Ben before the show, and in all had a great time. Check out The Appleseed Collective, or if you prefer more improvisational jazz, check out Ben’s solo album, Fables.

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