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Stack of BooksThus far, I’ve covered the most offensive types of errors I’ve seen in fiction on the web, and now I’ll get down to things that are merely bad or that are just annoying. But just because an error doesn’t stand up and slap you in the face, it doesn’t mean an editor will let you get away with it. She shouldn’t and she won’t.

From here on, though, the problem with these errors is that–more so than the topics of previous posts–frequently they aren’t errors at all. Don’t you just hate that? As we move on, keep in mind that all of the word usages I list here–all of them–often have a legitimate place in prose. There will be times that you specifically want what they provide; the key is to understand the danger they pose, and use them knowingly.

And so, onward to “wiggle words.”

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Here’s an idea from Homemade Delish, about making your own farmer’s cheese. Gotta love the simple stuff, no?

homemade delish's avatarHomemade Delish

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Not sure about you, but I am a LOVER of cheese.  Today I wanted to create something different in my kitchen so I decided to make some homemade farmer’s cheese.  I can’t believe how easy and how delicious it is to make right in the comfort of you own home.  After it’s all done you can enjoy as is or add different seasonings.  Enjoy with crackers, bread, veggies and fruit.  I actually had to put it away or I would eat the whole thing.  I hope you enjoy it.

Ingredients:

1/2 Gallon (8 Cups) of Milk (2%, organic or Whole)

5 tablespoons of distilled vinegar

Wooden Spoon

1 large Pot

Colander

New Thin Dish Cloth (or Cheese Cloth)

Preparation:

Pour the milk into a large pot, and stir. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring occasionally to prevent the milk from scorching on the bottom of the pot.  you will see that…

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Jet City Gridlock

Gossamer WheelSeattle is #10 in the nation for time wasted in commutes. To anyone who lives here, this is not a surprise.

Remember the old PC game, Sim-City? It was the game where the computer randomly generated a topography and your goal was to build a town and grow it into a city. Well, if you ever played that game, then you know that the hardest terrains to beat were those where water bisected the map, forcing you to build bridges to link up the different areas of town. Those bridges were a nightmare; they were always clogged with traffic, you could never build enough of the damned things, and of course, when Godzilla showed up, he scarfed them up like Seattleites eat biscotti at a coffee bar.

Well, dear friends, that scenario (sans Godzilla) is Seattle. Continue Reading »

Stack of BooksNow that I’ve finished my foray into Shakespearean biographies and Elizabethan conspiracy theories, it’s time to get back to work.

Writing work, that is.

This project will be my tenth novel, and it will be a big departure from my previous books. Frankly, it’s got me scared pissless. But, as any great artist will tell you, if it doesn’t scare you, it’s not worth doing. Continue Reading »

Two interesting articles out of the UK’s Guardian newspaper crossed my desk this morning. One was about bones, and one was about money.

First, a team of archaeologists and historians in Britain have uncovered the bones of Richard III. For real. The bones tell an amazing and horrifying story of the last moments of the last Plantagenet king, and the last British king to die in battle. And, for those who have been wondering just how much Shakespeare’s anti-Plantagenet propaganda was fiction regarding the king’s twisted form, we can now genuinely say that physically, at least, his depiction was accurate.

The team, working in a car park in Leicester, lifted the horribly severed skull, the arm and leg bones, and then the severely curved spine. The bones tell us something of his life, of his death, and of his treatment after death. Much of it was not pretty.

The second article I found of interest was an interview with Robert Reich and Jacob Kornbluth about the documentary that swept the Sundance Festival and will soon be in wide distribution. Inequality for All is being called the economy’s equivalent of An Inconvenient Truth.

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Century City

Woohoo!

This blog just reached the 100 mark for folks interested enough to click the “Follow” button. (I do hate the term “followers.” You’re not that. You’re interested, and you might be following along with the ongoing conversation here, but “followers” just has too much baggage. Of course, “persons of interest” isn’t much better.)

On a purely empirical note, this does point out the difference between blogging and social networking. I’ve had an “Author” page on Facebook for years, but it took forever for that page to garner even two dozen interested persons. Here, in less than seven full months, we’re at 100 and (slowly) climbing.

On the flip side, I am pretty sure that each and every one of those FB “likers” has bought a copy of my latest novel. After all, it was their love of my books that made them look for me on FB in the first place. By contrast, I’d be really surprised if even 6% of the interested persons here has bought one of my books. I’m not complaining; I’m merely observing. It makes total sense, no? Most of you who have come here to this blog didn’t know me from Boo Radley before you happened by. Most of you didn’t come here wanting to know more about my books; you saw a post and found it of interest. Click: Interested person. Naturally, the transition from interested person to devoted reader is a slow, deliberate process, and one not to be rushed.

But I’m glad you’re all here (You, too, Gidi…you’re #100, believe it or not!)

And now, on with the show.

k

I have a birth defect. I was born without the sports gene.

Yes, thank you for your feelings of sympathy. Yes, it is quite a burden, especially for one living in America where sport is so culturally significant. When I lived in Jerusalem, where our main worries were about bombs on buses and where a Hail Mary was something altogether different, I felt more at ease. In Israel, I didn’t feel the constant pressure, the communal fever, the whiplash from elation to devastation that comes from having to follow and support my local team to the Finals, the Series, the Superbowl. I could relax. When I returned to America, arriving in late December during the hyperbolic run up to Xmas and the Superbowl, I experience a deep and disturbing culture shock.

As a child, I did my best at sports, though my heart was not in it. I was quite an active young boy, but my vision was poor, I played the violin, and I liked to read. Yes, as you can imagine, it was a cruel, cruel childhood when it came to sports. I was the boy picked next to last–right before the kid with the brace on his leg and right after the kid with the cast on his arm. The importance of sport in American culture was drilled into me again and again.

I played in the organized games, when required. Four-square was my best event, as the distances were short and the ball was large enough for me to see (I didn’t get spectacles until fifth grade). I remember one day, having been impressed into a softball game, that I got lost on the way to first base. The memory could be bitter, but I choose not to remember the fact that I couldn’t see well enough to navigate the 90 feet to reach the white bag on the ground; I choose instead to remember that I actually hit the ball: a miracle!

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