Yesterday during the Yankees/Twins baseball game - the final game of the ALDS - one of the Twins players showed incredible commitment to the game and to his team.
Left fielder Delmon Young stepped up to the plate and promptly fouled a ball off the ground into his own... twig and berries, so to speak. I swear thousands of men around the world groaned in sympathy. Hell, I don't have that kind of equipment and I still felt sympathy pains. (Personally, I don't get where groin pain is a laughing matter, but that's for another day.) Thank goodness he was wearing a cup. Ugh.
Anyway, after a few minutes on the ground, and another few gingerly walking around, Young once again stepped up to the plate. If it'd been me, I'd have taken the opportunity to sit somewhere with a bag of ice. Not Delmon Young. He shook off the pain, got ready to do his job again, and WHAM! The first pitch after his unfortunate foul ended up sailing to the outfield.
What does Young do? He runs like hell, with his bits surely in pain, and ends up with a double. It was an awesome thing to watch. I mean, I'm a die-hard Yankee fan, but I still can admire the fortitude it took for Young to do what he did.
Of course, the Twins still lost, but not because of Young. Because he had commitment few people in the world are willing to show for their work, or anything else these days. He showed the kind of commitment that keeps writers at keyboards long after their asses are numb and their hands are killing them. The same commitment that keeps writers sending out queries long after their hearts have been stomped on by rejection after rejection.
Because when the world kicks you in the tender places, you have two choices. You can sit the next few pitches out, or you can get back in there. Your level of commitment is shown by which choice you make.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Jury Duty - a Recap
Running on little sleep isn't the best way to start a drive, nor is it the best way to approach the idea of sitting in court all day. Like any event, however, the prospect of jury duty had my mind racing Thursday night. What would it be like? Would I see anybody there I knew? Would I know the defendent or the victim or the witnesses? What would happen if I thought one way and the rest of the jurors thought another? And just what does one wear to jury duty in a rural community?
What can I say, once my mind latches onto something, it's damn the torpedos and full steam ahead.
Anyway, I threw on some clothes, climbed into the car and headed out. After getting some much needed fuel (gas for the car and coffee for me), I hit the open road. Other than having to drive into the sun, it was a nice trip. No real jerksticks on the highway, and thankfully, no snow. (Last night we got snow, but that's best left to another post.)
I arrived at the courthouse with about ten minutes to spare. I thought I got there early. Early enough to at least get a parking space, that is, but after driving around the lot with no luck, I parked up the street and around the corner. Good thing I decided to wear sneakers and not my high-heel boots. I wasn't chic, but I was comfortable.
After locating where I was supposed to be (What is it with people not giving clear instructions?), I got into line with the rest of the jurors for the trip through the metal detectors. No big deal unless you happen to be standing next to a guy who makes a joke about all the guns he had to leave in his pick-up. You should've seen the look on the officer's face.
"I don't know this guy," I said, with a half-smile on my face. (Okay, yes, I did know him, but if it's a choice between denying my acquaintance and getting frisked, I'm disavowing all knowledge.)
I made it through the metal detector without further incident, only to have them take away my coffee. How's a gal supposed to sit through jury duty without a hot cup of French Vanilla cappucino?? And it was at the perfect sipping temperature, too. I really think that they should've warned us not to bring beverages. The notice said no cell phones and no pocket knives, so why not say 'no beverages', too? I wasn't the only one who lost out, but I should take comfort in the fact that my coffee had company on the lonely table where we were forced to say goodbye.
By the time I got into the courtroom, it was packed. Lucky for me the people of this community seem to have an aversion to the front row - like it was a classroom and sitting in front would get them picked sooner. Feh. I slide onto my own personal bench and commenced reading before the big show began. I made it through the acknowledgements before three large farmers pushed past me and lowered their bulk onto the seat. (And the wood wasn't the only thing groaning in protest, let me tell you. I tried to make myself thinner, but positive thoughts and exhaling only get a gal so far.)
With the jurors uncomfortably ensconced in our judiciary pews, a man looking like Santa Claus after a hard night of drinking took center stage - right in front of me. He began explaining the video we would have to watch about the process, and I was overcome by a wave of halitosis the likes of which would curl the hair on a skunk's butt. I started chewing gum just to convince my nose it wasn's so bad.
So here I am, squeezed between Clem the farmer and a hard oak bench, with Pepe the Baliff hitting every breathy consonant he can manage. Thank goodness the video started before I lost consciousness. Most of what was given in the video could've been gleaned by watching one episode of Law & Order, but I did learn a couple things. 1) If during the jury selection process, you're asked a question you don't feel comfortable answering in public, you can ask to answer it in private. 2) If you have a question for any of the witnesses, you can write it on a piece of paper and hand it in to the judge, who will ask the question for you.
Half an hour later, and the video is over. (And they didn't even hand out popcorn.) At this point I'm starting to be glad they took my coffee away because I have to use the bathroom, and I don't know when they're going to give jurors a potty break. The baliff tells us to relax for a few minutes while the officers of the court finish preparing. Fine by me. I break out the book - hoping in the back of my head that after the defense attorney sees the title, he'll veto me for the trial. (I really didn't think about what a book called Make Her Pay would mean when I took it. It was just next up in my TBR pile.)
Two paragraphs later, the judge arrives and the sheepish look on her face was enough to tell me something wasn't quite right. Then the lawyers arrive, and they all look embarassed. The only person up there who looked at all happy was this skinny guy in a denim shirt and blue jeans. Once the judge proceeds to tell us we're being dismissed, and the prosecutor explains that the victim decided not to testify - locked herself in her house, in fact - I realize why the jeans guy is so smug. He's the defendant.
Objectivity went right out the window after that. Thank goodness I didn't actually have to decide the fate of that guy. His whole attitude seemed to exude 'Neener, neener, neener... you can't catch me'.
Of course, my take on the situation could be wrong, but on the drive home, I concocted the whole scenario of a date rape wherein the woman is too ashamed to testify against her rapist, and the asshole gets away with it. Wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened. On the other hand, he could've looked smug because he was in the right all along and his accuser couldn't face up to the lies she told. After looking at his attitude, though, I'm more inclined to think the former is true.
The best thing about the whole experience was I got some first hand knowledge of what the process is like, and I got some good character studies that may be useful in future stories. The baliff could definitely find his way into a book, and the defendent may work as part of an amalgam to give depth to a villain. Even the prosecutor - who couldn't have been older than 25 - would make a great secondary somewhere along the way.
With names and faces changed to protect the innocent and the not-so-innocent, of course.
;o)
What can I say, once my mind latches onto something, it's damn the torpedos and full steam ahead.
Anyway, I threw on some clothes, climbed into the car and headed out. After getting some much needed fuel (gas for the car and coffee for me), I hit the open road. Other than having to drive into the sun, it was a nice trip. No real jerksticks on the highway, and thankfully, no snow. (Last night we got snow, but that's best left to another post.)
I arrived at the courthouse with about ten minutes to spare. I thought I got there early. Early enough to at least get a parking space, that is, but after driving around the lot with no luck, I parked up the street and around the corner. Good thing I decided to wear sneakers and not my high-heel boots. I wasn't chic, but I was comfortable.
After locating where I was supposed to be (What is it with people not giving clear instructions?), I got into line with the rest of the jurors for the trip through the metal detectors. No big deal unless you happen to be standing next to a guy who makes a joke about all the guns he had to leave in his pick-up. You should've seen the look on the officer's face.
"I don't know this guy," I said, with a half-smile on my face. (Okay, yes, I did know him, but if it's a choice between denying my acquaintance and getting frisked, I'm disavowing all knowledge.)
I made it through the metal detector without further incident, only to have them take away my coffee. How's a gal supposed to sit through jury duty without a hot cup of French Vanilla cappucino?? And it was at the perfect sipping temperature, too. I really think that they should've warned us not to bring beverages. The notice said no cell phones and no pocket knives, so why not say 'no beverages', too? I wasn't the only one who lost out, but I should take comfort in the fact that my coffee had company on the lonely table where we were forced to say goodbye.
By the time I got into the courtroom, it was packed. Lucky for me the people of this community seem to have an aversion to the front row - like it was a classroom and sitting in front would get them picked sooner. Feh. I slide onto my own personal bench and commenced reading before the big show began. I made it through the acknowledgements before three large farmers pushed past me and lowered their bulk onto the seat. (And the wood wasn't the only thing groaning in protest, let me tell you. I tried to make myself thinner, but positive thoughts and exhaling only get a gal so far.)
With the jurors uncomfortably ensconced in our judiciary pews, a man looking like Santa Claus after a hard night of drinking took center stage - right in front of me. He began explaining the video we would have to watch about the process, and I was overcome by a wave of halitosis the likes of which would curl the hair on a skunk's butt. I started chewing gum just to convince my nose it wasn's so bad.
So here I am, squeezed between Clem the farmer and a hard oak bench, with Pepe the Baliff hitting every breathy consonant he can manage. Thank goodness the video started before I lost consciousness. Most of what was given in the video could've been gleaned by watching one episode of Law & Order, but I did learn a couple things. 1) If during the jury selection process, you're asked a question you don't feel comfortable answering in public, you can ask to answer it in private. 2) If you have a question for any of the witnesses, you can write it on a piece of paper and hand it in to the judge, who will ask the question for you.
Half an hour later, and the video is over. (And they didn't even hand out popcorn.) At this point I'm starting to be glad they took my coffee away because I have to use the bathroom, and I don't know when they're going to give jurors a potty break. The baliff tells us to relax for a few minutes while the officers of the court finish preparing. Fine by me. I break out the book - hoping in the back of my head that after the defense attorney sees the title, he'll veto me for the trial. (I really didn't think about what a book called Make Her Pay would mean when I took it. It was just next up in my TBR pile.)
Two paragraphs later, the judge arrives and the sheepish look on her face was enough to tell me something wasn't quite right. Then the lawyers arrive, and they all look embarassed. The only person up there who looked at all happy was this skinny guy in a denim shirt and blue jeans. Once the judge proceeds to tell us we're being dismissed, and the prosecutor explains that the victim decided not to testify - locked herself in her house, in fact - I realize why the jeans guy is so smug. He's the defendant.
Objectivity went right out the window after that. Thank goodness I didn't actually have to decide the fate of that guy. His whole attitude seemed to exude 'Neener, neener, neener... you can't catch me'.
Of course, my take on the situation could be wrong, but on the drive home, I concocted the whole scenario of a date rape wherein the woman is too ashamed to testify against her rapist, and the asshole gets away with it. Wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened. On the other hand, he could've looked smug because he was in the right all along and his accuser couldn't face up to the lies she told. After looking at his attitude, though, I'm more inclined to think the former is true.
The best thing about the whole experience was I got some first hand knowledge of what the process is like, and I got some good character studies that may be useful in future stories. The baliff could definitely find his way into a book, and the defendent may work as part of an amalgam to give depth to a villain. Even the prosecutor - who couldn't have been older than 25 - would make a great secondary somewhere along the way.
With names and faces changed to protect the innocent and the not-so-innocent, of course.
;o)
Friday, October 9, 2009
Objectivity
I don't have a whole lot of time this morning. Well, not the amount of time I usually have, since I have to be in court by nine. I did want to address a couple things this morning while I do have some time, though, and both have to do with objectivity.
A couple of days ago I posted a link to this whole FTC business. I didn't say much about it, but it's definitely a concerning little piece of government. Read what Janet Reid has to say about it, and then check out the Wired article on the issue. And if you've got a couple hours and a lot of aspirin, read the Official FTC PDF on the rules. Apparently if you receive anything for free and then review it on your private 'citizen' blog, and don't mention that you received it for free, you could be subject to FTC scrutiny and fines.
Like getting a book from an author, which you then read and love and want to tell your blog buddies about. As if the only reason you would be giving the author a good review is because they gave you that book. As if objectivity were impossible in the face of such an extravagant gift.
Umm... yeah.
Of course, according to what I understand of the rules, remuneration doesn't have to be in the form of a freebie. If you're associated or have some type of relationship with the person who wrote the book, and you give them a good review, you have to disclose that, too. Good will and friendship is payment, too, doncha know. Problem is, when I read a book by a person I've got a relationship with - however minimal - it doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to give that person a good review. More often that not, I do, but it's not because I like the person. It's because I like their books.
Anyway, the FTC has stepped in it. Not to mention the government taking just one more little piece of American freedom in the name of protecting it's rube-like citizens. One commenter at Janet Reid's post said something about complying with the rules is no big deal. Of course it isn't a big deal to say where you got the product you reviewed. That isn't the point. It's the principle of the thing.
I admit to not always being the most objective person on the planet. I try, but sometimes I fail. Which brings us around to the second thing I wanted to talk about: Jury duty.
I thought about this off and on since I made the call that told me the court case was actually going to happen and that my presence was needed there this morning. I live in a small town inside a county with a small populous. Everyone knows everyone else in one way or another. (Think 'Six Degress of Kevin Bacon' but more rural.) While I don't get out much and don't circulate amongst the who's who of this place, I know who they are, and frankly, I don't always like the things they do. We have some petty and small minded people in this town. We have drunkards and druggies and petty criminals. What I'm going to have to steel myself against today is Guilt By Association.
Part of being a juror is holding fast to objectivity. Regardless of how I may feel about Barney Assinine and his brood, I can't let myself feel anything regarding anyone with the last name of Assinine. (Because frankly, I think everyone is related to everyone else here - unless they're like me and were raised out of state.) Each person is an individual, and what one person may or may not have done to me and mine isn't cause for damning the whole lot of them.
I'll let you know how I make out.
Have a great day and wish me luck. I think I might need it.
A couple of days ago I posted a link to this whole FTC business. I didn't say much about it, but it's definitely a concerning little piece of government. Read what Janet Reid has to say about it, and then check out the Wired article on the issue. And if you've got a couple hours and a lot of aspirin, read the Official FTC PDF on the rules. Apparently if you receive anything for free and then review it on your private 'citizen' blog, and don't mention that you received it for free, you could be subject to FTC scrutiny and fines.
Like getting a book from an author, which you then read and love and want to tell your blog buddies about. As if the only reason you would be giving the author a good review is because they gave you that book. As if objectivity were impossible in the face of such an extravagant gift.
Umm... yeah.
Of course, according to what I understand of the rules, remuneration doesn't have to be in the form of a freebie. If you're associated or have some type of relationship with the person who wrote the book, and you give them a good review, you have to disclose that, too. Good will and friendship is payment, too, doncha know. Problem is, when I read a book by a person I've got a relationship with - however minimal - it doesn't necessarily mean I'm going to give that person a good review. More often that not, I do, but it's not because I like the person. It's because I like their books.
Anyway, the FTC has stepped in it. Not to mention the government taking just one more little piece of American freedom in the name of protecting it's rube-like citizens. One commenter at Janet Reid's post said something about complying with the rules is no big deal. Of course it isn't a big deal to say where you got the product you reviewed. That isn't the point. It's the principle of the thing.
I admit to not always being the most objective person on the planet. I try, but sometimes I fail. Which brings us around to the second thing I wanted to talk about: Jury duty.
I thought about this off and on since I made the call that told me the court case was actually going to happen and that my presence was needed there this morning. I live in a small town inside a county with a small populous. Everyone knows everyone else in one way or another. (Think 'Six Degress of Kevin Bacon' but more rural.) While I don't get out much and don't circulate amongst the who's who of this place, I know who they are, and frankly, I don't always like the things they do. We have some petty and small minded people in this town. We have drunkards and druggies and petty criminals. What I'm going to have to steel myself against today is Guilt By Association.
Part of being a juror is holding fast to objectivity. Regardless of how I may feel about Barney Assinine and his brood, I can't let myself feel anything regarding anyone with the last name of Assinine. (Because frankly, I think everyone is related to everyone else here - unless they're like me and were raised out of state.) Each person is an individual, and what one person may or may not have done to me and mine isn't cause for damning the whole lot of them.
I'll let you know how I make out.
Have a great day and wish me luck. I think I might need it.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Fall Fell on Me
What is it about this time of year that makes it so busy and yet makes me want to write so much? Traditionally, Fall has been the most productive part of the year for my writing. Yay. But why couldn't Summer be the season? I'm fairly free during the summer. School's slowed down, the days are longer, all my favorite shows are in rerun... I should be writing.
But no. My creativity wakes up when the days grow shorter, and my schedule fills up.
Right now my WIP is just about bursting out of my pores. Last night I was writing in between hits during the Yankees game and the Dodgers game. Then I was writing during commercial breaks for Criminal Minds. (During which I came up with an awesome new curve to throw at my MC, btw, and now the next couple scenes will practically write themselves.)
Right now I'm also overseeing six hours of homeschool a day, though. And driving lessons every morning. I write during Spanish class - because it's online and everything I know about Spanish I learned on Sesame Street - but I'm getting a tad pooped. A vacation would be nice, but who's got time for that?
And to top the season off? I got a notice for jury duty. Tomorrow. Like I need that. Keep your fingers crossed that the trial will be canceled. (This is my third notice and both of the others were cancelled. Three strikes and you're out?) I don't need to drive a half-hour to court every morning for however many days this lasts. Not that I don't think it will be interesting. I could use a little first hand trial experience to make my books richer.
I'm just wondering why they couldn't have called me up during Summer.
Is Autumn a busy season for you, too? If not, which season trips you up?
But no. My creativity wakes up when the days grow shorter, and my schedule fills up.
Right now my WIP is just about bursting out of my pores. Last night I was writing in between hits during the Yankees game and the Dodgers game. Then I was writing during commercial breaks for Criminal Minds. (During which I came up with an awesome new curve to throw at my MC, btw, and now the next couple scenes will practically write themselves.)
Right now I'm also overseeing six hours of homeschool a day, though. And driving lessons every morning. I write during Spanish class - because it's online and everything I know about Spanish I learned on Sesame Street - but I'm getting a tad pooped. A vacation would be nice, but who's got time for that?
And to top the season off? I got a notice for jury duty. Tomorrow. Like I need that. Keep your fingers crossed that the trial will be canceled. (This is my third notice and both of the others were cancelled. Three strikes and you're out?) I don't need to drive a half-hour to court every morning for however many days this lasts. Not that I don't think it will be interesting. I could use a little first hand trial experience to make my books richer.
I'm just wondering why they couldn't have called me up during Summer.
Is Autumn a busy season for you, too? If not, which season trips you up?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
The Non-Rant
Since it was pointed out that I might rant too much, I've been trying not to rant. Not that there aren't things that totally tick me off, but in the interest of maintaining a more calm presence on the net, I've been keeping these things to myself.
For instance, here's a list of things that have gotten my undies in a bunch lately:
The FTC's position on bloggers who review books
This Washington Times article called "Children's books lack moral lessons".
Brett Favre.
Politicians.
Mean people.
The Nanny State.
Bad drivers. (Especially on my mind since I started giving Darling Daughter driving lessons*.)
The growing lack of respect for individual rights and private property.
And last, but nowhere near least, the Chicago honor student who was beaten to death.
What's been sticking in your craw lately? Feel free to let it out.
*since last Tuesday - and she's doing very well. Yay!
For instance, here's a list of things that have gotten my undies in a bunch lately:
The FTC's position on bloggers who review books
This Washington Times article called "Children's books lack moral lessons".
Brett Favre.
Politicians.
Mean people.
The Nanny State.
Bad drivers. (Especially on my mind since I started giving Darling Daughter driving lessons*.)
The growing lack of respect for individual rights and private property.
And last, but nowhere near least, the Chicago honor student who was beaten to death.
What's been sticking in your craw lately? Feel free to let it out.
*since last Tuesday - and she's doing very well. Yay!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Still Here
Sorry for the silence. I could blame football. I do love me some football. But that's not entirely true. You see, I couldn't think of a damn thing to blog about. Maybe all my creativity has been funneled into my WIP. Not a bad thing, and probably the best reason anyone can have for not blogging.
I'm still handwriting the book. It's working for me, and hey, why fix what ain't broken? I have about 12K typed into Word as of Saturday, and another dozen+ pages waiting to be input. Yesterday I wrote so much I kept having to stop and shake out the writer's cramp. It's really moving along. On paper, that is. Create from the keyboard? Not so much.
The things we do for our writing. Heh.
So, what was on tap for your weekend? Anyone catch the Steelers game last night? That Mendenhall plays like a clone for the Bus (Jerome Betis), and I keep noticing something about the Steelers' coach. Is it just me or does he look like he could be Omar Epps's long lost brother?
I'm still handwriting the book. It's working for me, and hey, why fix what ain't broken? I have about 12K typed into Word as of Saturday, and another dozen+ pages waiting to be input. Yesterday I wrote so much I kept having to stop and shake out the writer's cramp. It's really moving along. On paper, that is. Create from the keyboard? Not so much.
The things we do for our writing. Heh.
So, what was on tap for your weekend? Anyone catch the Steelers game last night? That Mendenhall plays like a clone for the Bus (Jerome Betis), and I keep noticing something about the Steelers' coach. Is it just me or does he look like he could be Omar Epps's long lost brother?
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Notable, if not New
If you weren't already aware, it's Banned Books Week. Or as Ray Bradbury said: "You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them."
Also, thanks to Jessica Faust, I've learned that it's National Adopt a Shelter Dog month. Go read her post on the subject. She says it so much better than I can this morning (even if I did comment). And remember, there are no bad dogs, just bad training.
It's also National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. If you're not doing your self exams, find a friend to do them for you. All joking aside, though, breast cancer isn't something you want to mess with. Get yourself checked out.
Aside from that, the Guide to Literaty Agents blog is running a contest. Their second annual Worst Storyline Ever Contest will be open to entries until 11:59pm on October 5th. It has some neat prizes, so get working on a truly terrible story idea.
Other notable, if not new, things this month (Courtesy of the Cultural Calendar) are:
National Mushroom Month*
National Cookie Month
National Caramel Month
German-American Heritage Month (as well as Polish-American Heritage Month - so they got most of my ancestry covered in October)
National Dessert Month
The list goes on... But I'll stop now. Any notable things you'd like the world to be aware of this month?
*I wonder what they mean by that. I used to be what I called The Executive Mushroom (you know... keep me in the dark and feed me sh*t). Do you think that counts?
Also, thanks to Jessica Faust, I've learned that it's National Adopt a Shelter Dog month. Go read her post on the subject. She says it so much better than I can this morning (even if I did comment). And remember, there are no bad dogs, just bad training.
It's also National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. If you're not doing your self exams, find a friend to do them for you. All joking aside, though, breast cancer isn't something you want to mess with. Get yourself checked out.
Aside from that, the Guide to Literaty Agents blog is running a contest. Their second annual Worst Storyline Ever Contest will be open to entries until 11:59pm on October 5th. It has some neat prizes, so get working on a truly terrible story idea.
Other notable, if not new, things this month (Courtesy of the Cultural Calendar) are:
National Mushroom Month*
National Cookie Month
National Caramel Month
German-American Heritage Month (as well as Polish-American Heritage Month - so they got most of my ancestry covered in October)
National Dessert Month
The list goes on... But I'll stop now. Any notable things you'd like the world to be aware of this month?
*I wonder what they mean by that. I used to be what I called The Executive Mushroom (you know... keep me in the dark and feed me sh*t). Do you think that counts?
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