Snow hath fallen

Jeez, did it snow last night. We got at least 18 inches and some of the drifts are four feet high. It reminds me of snowfalls from my childhood, when snow was big.

Staying indoors was my only option. So I drank espresso, kept warm and worked on the book. In this way, I was able to spend the day on a tropical beach with an invigoratingly intelligent, old physicist. He's one of my favorite characters. I love hanging out with him -- and I made good progress. (That's such a weird expression. It implies that somewhere out there, there is someone who is making bad progress. Fun.)

As I mentioned recently, blogging at The Worlds will be light and intermittent in the coming days (months?). If I don't finish this book, you'll never get to read it. And I can't let you down, I just can't. You mean that much to me.

Steinbeck's writing suggestions

Artichoke Annie has an interesting post up today. It's about John Steinbeck. The post lists several of his suggestions for writers. One of them is:

"If you are using dialogue--say it aloud as you write it. Only then will it have the sound of speech."

I never do this. As I write dialogue, I hear the words spoken by the character. Each character's voice and way of speaking is unique. I truly hear these voices and I don't have to do anything special to make this happen. So I've never read dialogue aloud.

But some of the suggestions are spot-on. For instance: don't edit as you write. Just get the damn scene down on paper or screen. You can always go back and edit it. For now, you're writing.

Writing and editing are two very different things that probably utilize separate (though overlapping) brain areas. They're that disparate. When you write, you should write. After you're done, you can spend the rest of your life editing your book. Almost happened to me. Well, okay, it was just a couple of years. Still.

(And hey, there's a shout-out to Steinbeck in Xmas Carol. Let's see if any XC readers can identify it.)

New Years resolution

I will use fewer adverbs in 2013.

What's yours? (Not that you need one, mind you. It's just a dumb tradition. But as long as you're hung over and can't do anything else, spit one out.)

Memories that stay with you

You know how some memories are burned into your mind, seemingly for no particular reason? I find this so odd. For instance, I remember a snowy day when I was about 16. I think of that day often, though there's nothing unusual about the memory. Still, it's always with me -- how the day felt, the wetness of the snowfall, and how things sounded. It's exciting, this memory, though I don't know why. It's imbued with significance -- seemingly for no reason.

This also applies to things people say. For some reason, I remember remarks that people made decades ago. And it's not that what they said was so striking or perceptive; some are downright boring remarks. But they stayed with me and I think of them often. There seems to be no rhyme or reason governing what remains in our minds, and what passes through, virtually unnoticed.

(Don't get me wrong. Some of the memories that stay with us forever are important. But it seems our brains store all sorts of things, including stuff that is meaningless.) 

Of course, I'm going to bring this around to writing. The odd thing is that these memories -- both significant and insignificant -- are finding a home in the novels I write. I'm not aware that I'm doing this as I write a scene. But later when I read it, I'll realize that I've recreated one of these fortified memories in the book. The look of a room, the feeling caused by an offhand remark, an odd phrasing someone once used -- all these memories that stuck with me throughout my life are being released, one by one, into my novels. It's quite nice, actually. They finally found a good home.

Do you have strong memories of an event or a day that didn't seem to matter much when it happened, but nonetheless stayed with you all these years? It's such a quirky thing.

Heaven on Earth

My idea of heaven would go something like this:

I'd live in the same house I live in now, with the same people around me. And I'd write all day and watch baseball games all evening. And then I'd wake up the next day and do the same thing.

Oh, wait! That's my life.

Never mind.

Money v. accomplishment

I find it strange that people obsess about getting their hands on a big pile of money. Folks, money is nothing. It's nice to have enough to meet your daily needs but beyond that, it's meaningless. At least, it is to me.

If someone offered me 100 million dollars for an agreement to never to write another word, I'd tell them to get bent. That is no bargain. Writing is what makes my life worthwhile. Money could never fill that gap. I've known a few insanely rich people and their lives were quite hollow. Money did not give their lives meaning. In fact, it seemed to suck the meaning out of their lives.

I hope that you have a quality or an activity or an accomplishment that you would be unwilling to give up for 100 million dollars. It's the sign that your life has been a success.

So that's the question. Do you have something in your life that you wouldn't give up for 100 million dollars? If so, congratulations! You've won the life lottery.

The shape of what isn't there

My hippie rant image.

You know us hippies -- we like nothing more than pondering the imponderable -- preferably in the evening with candles and music. So here we go.

A long time ago, I had a good friend who was a music composer. One day I asked him about a perception I experienced while listening to music. It seemed to me that some composers wrote a sort of stealth music, where the true melody wasn't played. Instead it was described by the music that was played. I thought I heard the music dance around a hidden melody, hinting at it without revealing it. Finding it, hearing it, seemed to be up to the listener. He just looked at me like I was nuts.

Let us parse

Have you ever noticed how your brain reads? I was watching mine as I read the sci-news the other day and I came to some interesting conclusions. Let's use a story on physorg to illustrate the point. Here are three sentences, and I'll comment after each:

"A powerful solar eruption that triggered a huge geomagnetic storm has disturbed radio communications and could disrupt electrical power grids, radio and satellite communication in the next days, NASA said."

As you read that, note how your brain chooses sensible little groups of words to absorb: "powerful solar eruption" is the first; "triggered" is the second; "huge geomagnetic storm" is the next, etc. We see clumps of words that describe concepts, and then we string the concepts together to understand the sentence. Let's take another:

"A strong wave of charged plasma particles emanating from the Jupiter-sized sun spot, the most powerful seen in four years, has already disrupted radio communication in southern China."

Okay, let's look at this sentence in the same manner. It also gives a stream of word pictures, the only difference here being the insertion of the almost parenthetical "the most powerful seen in four years". With one simple interruption, we can still manage to grasp the meaning of the sentence with relative ease. (I would have broken it into two sentences to make it simpler, but that's me.) Now let's look at a final sentence from the same article:

"X-class flares are the most powerful of all solar events that can trigger radio blackouts and long-lasting radiation storms," disturbing telecommunications and electric grids, NASA said Wednesday."

Okay, now that one was harder to understand. That's because it's somewhat recursive and you have to jump through various perspectives. First, "of all solar events that can trigger radio blackouts and long-lasting radiation storms" is not simple to track; it's recursive, referring back to "all solar events". And then come two changing perspectives separated by commas. First the result: "disturbing telecommunications and electric grids" and then "NASA said Wednesday." This sentence doesn't help the reader's mind to flow from concept to concept. It's passable but not a winner.

I found it refreshing to observe how my brain reads. It gave me another way to look at my sentences. For the next few days, I'm going to look for these small word groups in my own writing and see if they're strung together in a way that moves the reader through the sentence, easily and simply. It almost sounds too basic to be a useful observation but somehow going through this exercise made me see things a bit differently. I feel like I've understood something new.

Basic and wonkish at the same time, I know. But this is the kind of understanding that can help me as a writer. Sometimes the thing you really need is a way to look at your work with a fresh eye. (Especially after the 10th edit. Oy.)

His only copy

Ideas for stories pop into my mind. It's not something I consciously encourage -- It just happens. And sometimes it happens too much.

I can end up feeling stalked by my ideas. They're always percolating up from the depths and there are far too many of them. I feel compelled to write them down because I don't want to lose them, but sometimes it's almost non-stop ideas, 24/7, and then it becomes a burden. I'm always having to interrupt myself to write down a new concept. Sometimes I wish my ideas would go away -- not forever, but for a while. (Yes, I realize this is manic behavior. I am indeed manic. I love it!)

An idea is only truly fresh when it first comes to you. There is an actual bloom on a fresh idea. It's sticky, with all sorts of ancillary ideas attached to it. And when you fully unfold an idea, it can be huge. Now, it's never ideal to go back to an idea. You want to grab a new idea and rush to the keyboard with it -- you want to use it. And that's great as far as it goes. But it's not always time for an idea, especially when you're in the middle of writing another book. (Which is why every writer needs lots of notebooks.)

Although I fear losing my ideas, there's a certain kind that I just push back into my head, unexamined. It's not their time, you see. I also do this because I don't want to examine an idea closely and cause its probability wave to collapse. So I just shove it back into the depths, still fresh and filled with unplumbed promise. It's tricky to engineer this without losing the idea entirely, but it's possible and at times, necessary.

For instance, I don't want to have ideas right now about the third book of The Worlds. It's not time for those ideas. Although I've written pages and pages of notes for the third book, I don't want to look at anything too closely. I want to forestall the moment when my brain charges headlong into the story. So far I've been able to stem the tide of ideas for book 3. They're still safe inside my brain and they'll be fresh when I haul them out for the big unfolding. (Plus I did scribble this and that down, just in case.)

This reminds me of a friend from my college days. His name was Richard and he did a very odd thing. If, for instance, I asked him for the telephone number of that guy we met last night, a number neither of us had written down at the time, Richard would be able to pull it out of his memory and tell me. But dog forbid I didn't write it down, because if I asked him an hour later for the number, he'd say, "Sorry. That was my only copy and I gave it to you." And that was that. He was never able to remember the information again.

I think this has to do with short-term memory, the mind's scratch pad for information that we need in our daily life -- like our address and phone number and those handy key combinations we use at the computer. Eventually, if we don't use a bit of information that resides in short-term memory, the brain pushes it off the local scratch pad.  Richard's brain was just very efficient about this process. When it delivered information that it thought it would no longer need, it tossed it in the garbage. (You also have to wonder if his brain performed a "Move" operation instead of a "Copy". It's fun to consider these things.)

I point this out to show that our brains handle ideas in their own odd ways, and we have to respect this and work within our capabilities. As far as me shoving book ideas back down into my brain, I think the truth is that I don't want my ideas to enter short-term memory because they'll get get dusty and lose their luster there. Plus, they might get shoveled off to a distant corner of my brain when I'm not looking, and who knows if I'll be able to find them again. Richard couldn't. 

This has been a report from my brain. Please feel free to report from yours.

Detective novels? Meh.

I confess I've hardly ever enjoyed a detective novel, otherwise known as a who-done-it. It's like playing computer games -- I don't see the percentage in it.

I prefer watch-em-do-its. I want to know exactly what the evil character is doing, right from the get-go. The suspense comes in as the reader wonders if the victim will catch on in time to thwart the evil-doer. In this genre, there's nothing to figure out. The reader knows everything, going in. We hover over the scenes and watch the evil deed unfold. Now that's interesting.

The only way a who-done-it could be interesting for me is if it was a real-life story told in a who-done-it style -- in other words, a true crime novel. That it's real, makes it interesting. I've read my fair share of true crime novels. In the able hands of Capote, or even a contemporary like Ann Rule, these tales can be gripping.

In a who-done-it, you're only trying to figure out where the writer hid the Twinkie. How is this a challenge? It's arbitrary and meaningless. (I have the same reaction to crossword puzzles. I've never understood their attraction. It's about the talent of the clue-provider as much as the puzzle-doer's perspicuity. And really, what are you accomplishing? Now, if the aim was to figure out a new, real-life Rosetta Stone, I would find this interesting. But some guy's puzzle? Nope.)

A who-done-it is just a shell game. What do I care where the novelist hid the salami? It's a boring exercise because it doesn't matter. You haven't figured out anything except what some guy thought late one night in his darkened living room. I don't get the attraction of this genre at all. In real-life stories, when you figure something out, it means something. Who-done-its? Nonsense. There's no there there.

But, you say, "There's the writing to consider! How could you not even speak of the writing! You cad, you!"

This only reminds me of religious apologists who insist that atheists read the more "sophisticated" theological texts. Get bent. These "sophisticated theological texts" are philosophical musings about nothing. Again, there's no there there. So no, the writer's talent doesn't make reading a who-done-it meaningful. It's a who-done-it, which means it's nonsense, no matter how pretty the words are.

(I fully expect several million commenters to disagree with me on this. I'll probably get 160 or so comments in the thread. Dang. I'll be deluged!)

Writing about psychopaths

There are not one, but two, psychopaths in one of my books. I figured why not go for two, you know? Just kidding. The plot required them. As a result, I spent a lot of time with these guys.

You've probably seen the news about the woman in New York who found her real mother, and thereby outed as a kidnapper the woman who raised her. Now there's a psychopath. She steals a baby from teenage parents, brings it home and happily goes about her life, raising the baby as her own and probably never thinking of the child's true parents. These folks have no qualms at all. Qualms are for the little people. It's all about them. Everything else is inconsequential.

Hearing about the case reminded me of my very own, homegrown sociopaths. It was strange to write about them because I had to get into their heads. So what is it like to be one of these guys? What I learned is that they are one-dimensional. There is no depth, none at all. There is only what they want, and the act of getting it. Their satisfaction is intense, but fleeting. It's just a quick fix until they see the next thing they want. They're the ultimate consumers, and we are the consumables.

What I learned is that a psychopath is a pathetic thing to be. I came to see them, both my fictional characters and actual psychopaths, as cursed. There is no hope for them, no possibility of change. I found myself pitying them.

What hollow lives they lead, always looking outside for satisfaction because there is nothing inside. I sense that this scares them at times. That's half the reason they want thrills -- to distract them from noticing who and what they are. They are people without souls. What a rank existence.

Go write a short story

This is going to be a recurring theme from me: I want to encourage everyone to write. I've said this before but since no one reads old posts, I'll just have to say it again. Here's today's push to get you off your duff (or on it, come to think of it) and writing.

Once again I've been chatting with people who are "going to" write a book. I sigh when I hear this, knowing that most likely the book will never be written. As I see it, the trick is to maneuver your idea onto the page despite the roadblock created by your fear of failure. And so the idea never progresses, the book is never begun.

It may seem impossible to write a book, but it's not. The odd thing is that you just have to get into the habit of writing. I know, I know: you can't start. But if you don't, the book won't be written, right? So maybe you need to think about this problem you're having, and figure a way out of it.

I'll keep it simple: write now, people. Life doesn't stretch on forever, even if you're young. You never know how much time you've got to write that book. Don't you want to leave a novel behind, so there's a piece of you that goes on, that continues to speak whenever someone reads it? As far as goals go, it's a nice one.

But you keep putting it off. So I have news for you: it's not that hard to get out of this cycle. All it takes is a firm decision to start writing. If you can't face your novel yet, or your history of the Huguenots or whatever it is that you're planning to write, then start smaller. If you're a non-fiction writer, write an essay. Why shouldn't you write an essay? What possible harm could there be in trying? I know, I know: your fragile ego. Get over it.

If you're lucky enough to be a fiction writer who has a great idea for a novel, but just can't get your motor started, how about writing a short story today? Why not? Fear of failure is not an excuse. You'll never know if you can do it unless you try. Who knows? You may be a natural. Don't you want to find out?

You may think your book is in the "planning stage." Now, there's real value in planning; I don't mean to knock it. But let's get real. When's the last time you did some planning for the book? I thought so.

At a certain point you have to move from planning to writing. You can always keep planning as you write it. I do, and it works. See, there's an important issue here, and it may be something you don't realize. There is a learning process that takes place as you write. Nothing can replace this learning. In the end, only writing teaches you how to write.

You'll find that every time you write fiction, you will get better at it. Without planning to pick up a particular skill, you'll find yourself saying, 'Oh, I can do that now", "I can create characters; I can write dialogue." You'll learn new things every time you write, and this is something you only understand after its happened to you.

What have you got to lose? Go for it. Remember, you don't have to show it to anyone if you don't want to. So write something this afternoon. Go sit in your happy place, be it in front of a fire, your computer or the great lawn at your local park -- and write. At the end of the day, you'll have many precious things.

First, you'll have your story (or scene or essay or whatever) which you can read and evaluate at your leisure. But more than that, you'll have the experience, the learning that you picked up simply by writing. Keep it up and your skills will accumulate. Soon you'll know exactly what you're doing. You'll be an old hand and it won't seem impossible to write that novel. It's not the hardest thing in the world. I promise. Just give it a shot. Okay?

Making a scene sing

When I read a draft of one of my books, I assess its worth as I go along. One of the things I ask myself about a scene is, "Does it sing?" What is the special element about this scene that will stay with a reader? What makes the scene? And if that element is missing, I have some work to do.

For example, imagine you've written a scene where a conversation is going on between two people in a quiet music room. You thought you wrote it well but as you read it again, an idea occurs to you.

You decide to include a metronome keeping time atop the piano. In the silences between the words of the couple, it is always there, monotonously ticking, as if asking them to keep pace. It lends a sense of tension and inevitability to the scene. Now it sings.

I think we have to ask this question with every scene. What's special about it that will make it memorable for readers? If this component is missing, it's time to re-imagine the scene and come up with a fresh angle, something that lifts it to a higher level.

In the end, it's a bit like touring your home right after you've decorated it. You look into each room and ask, "Does this room really work?" And maybe you realize the lighting in one of the rooms needs a little help. So you create illumination that showcases the best design elements of the room. And suddenly it sings. Quick, call Architectural Digest!

This has to occur in a unique way for every scene in the book. If that special something isn't there you may have a scene that works but is easily forgotten. Think about it in a design sense: what could you add to perfect it? What would give the scene added texture, fragrance, luminosity, allure? Until you answer this question I don't think you're done.

At least, this is how I do it in my books. What about you?

OCD is not always a bad thing

Right this moment, I have 18 draft posts ready to publish on this blog. It's the way I am. I decide I want to do something and I do it till it's done. This is how I wrote three and a half books in two and a half years.

Things have to be done, they have to be done perfectly (or as close to it as possible), and they have to be done now. That's the way it is.

I don't mind this aspect of my personality at all. Is it compulsive? Sure. I don't find that a bad word, in certain narrow respects. Why not be compulsive about your positive interests? Suits me fine.

And I've got 18 posts ready to go! Did I already say that?

"Dirty" words

I don't know if you're counting the "bad" words I've used here but if you are, you know the total is zero. I've also written three and a half books and I believe I used a "bad" word once, and only for comic effect.

The reason I don't use them is that there's no need -- plus they're not a good fit for my writing. Mind you, I could see writing something specific that required tons of "curse" words because it was intrinsic to the piece. But in the sorts of things I write, the need doesn't arise.

On the other hand, I put "dirty", "bad" and "curse" in quotes because there's absolutely nothing wrong with "dirty" words. In conversation it's sometimes appropriate and fun to speak this way. It's not a big deal.

Words are just words. They're fine and innocent. Note that I'm not talking about ethnic or sexual slurs here; just words that the stereotypical sailor might use. As for the others, that's a different post.

I don't use "dirty" words when I write and I suspect I never will. It's just the way it is.

First person or third person?

Before I actually began to write fiction, I was convinced I would write in the first person (if I ever got around to it). Third-person writing seemed odd and distant, a foreign thing. We're used to writing in the first person; it's what we do. We leave notes on refrigerators that say, "I went to the store."

So at first glance that third-person stuff seemed weird to me. I was convinced I could never write that way. It seemed contrived, at least from a distance. So when I decided to write a novel I planned to use a first-person narrator. It sounded easier, I guess.

But when I began to write I found myself telling the story in the third-person. It just seemed appropriate and natural. I was surprised at how readily I slipped into third-person mode -- there didn't seem to be a trick to it at all.

Have you tried writing in both voices, first and third? What was your experience? Did one or the other seem more comfortable? I'd be interested to hear about it.

Do you eat during a day of writing?

When I'm writing, the world disappears. There is no world. If I have music on, I don't hear it. If something crashes outside my window, I only register a distant noise. None of it matters. There is nothing in the universe except what I'm writing.

One thing I've noticed is that I never eat when I'm writing, not because that's the plan but because I don't think of it. I do not feel hunger and I never lose energy: I am a writing machine. The only thing that can get through to me when I'm writing is my own thoughts.

Writing always feels like a rush. I have the sensation of flying as my fingers dart across the keyboard. It's like a drug in many ways (and I'd know, take my word on this). When druggies are on a toot, they don't eat -- and I think the writing rush causes a similar effect. We tap into our adrenaline reserves as we write, and as is typical with this raging chemical, we rise above mortal concerns. Lift that truck? Sure! Hunger? Meh. It just doesn't come up.

And when it's over it's like coming down from speed. I find myself wondering when I last ate, and can't answer the question. I'm shaky and feel like I'm about to collapse. At the end of a day of writing, the lack of calories hits me so hard that I can hardly walk to the kitchen to prepare something to eat.

Afterward, in the evening, the rush is still there -- though in a gentler form. It remains behind, glowing, buoying me up. I just feel so damn good when the writing's gone well.

But there is a price to pay for this wild ride. I find the constant rise and fall of my writing days takes a lot out of me, especially when I'm closing in on the end of a book. Then, I can't let go and after writing diligently for two or three weeks to finish the story, I crash back to Earth and fall apart.

For days after finishing a novel, it's actually hard to think -- or rather, I don't think at all. I'm like a zombie. And when I try to resume writing after a long run and a period of rest, it's a struggle to get myself going. It's the exhaustion from riding the wave. 

Still, I'll take the rush of writing and bear its aftereffects stoically, every time.  My opinion? It's faaaaabulous!  Any of this sound familiar? Tell me about it in the comments.

Short stories

Ah, short stories!  Such fun to write, and yet there's so little call for them.  I've read that short stories are good for nothing, that no one (i.e., publishers) will touch them.  "Give them away," says the throng.  "That's all they're good for."

Well, I've written five short stories and I'm not quite ready to toss them into the wind, thank you.  Today, I plan to work on an idea I've come up with, sort of a way to package the stories (for sale?).  I've seen it done before; it's not a novel device.  I plan to include all five in a book, and write a surrounding story in which they all live.  The five stories are hints about the true nature of the overlaid story.  Each story plays a role in the tale.

A week or so back, I wrote the first section of the main story (the one in which the short stories live).  Today I'm going to edit that first section and see if I'm up to writing the second installment.  I've already thought through the plot of the main story, so all I have to do is let loose on the keyboard.  First, however, it's time to edit.

Anyone out there written any short stories?  What did you do with them?  (Note: I print them and give them away to friends when they stop by.  I've gotten great reactions.  People seem more ready to read a short story than a sizable novel.)  I'm not averse to putting the short stories on this blog, should the over-story idea fail for some reason.  But I'm not there yet.  I like my current plan.

What did you do with your short stories?

How to write a novel

There are writing guides all over the internet.  Do this, don't do that -- and oh, don't forget to create your brand and tout it on the web!  I read a few of these articles and tossed them all aside.  As with all things in life, I learned how to do it myself.

This is surely not how others came to write a novel, but it's how I did it.  First I sat down and asked myself what I liked about books, and more importantly, what I didn't.  Fiction today seems to be created through "agreed upon" formulas, and heaven forbid you leave out a required item.  You need this component, and that.  And don't forget the backstory! 

Thing is, I always hate those formulaic intrusions into fiction.  Why is the government always en evil, bad guy?  Why, when someone does something good, does there always have to be another character obsessively dedicated to destroying that character's hopes?  And why oh why do I have to know every little thing about each character?  I don't like these things, so I tossed them all.

Note: This was my thinking then and I'm recording it the way it happened.  I've matured through writing the three books, and I've got conflicts going on all over the place in Xmas Carol.  But in the first book, I tried to avoid it -- successfully, I think.  The conflict in "The Worlds" is between humans and their nature.  No need for a bad guy.

I decided I would only write the interesting parts and leave everything else out.  My goal was to have a book where every single page is compelling, where there are no dead spaces, no waiting, no boredom.  That was my formula.  It seemed like a good idea and that's how I played it.  Knowing I wouldn't have to tend to all these useless bits that are in other stories, I was free to plow ahead.

Ah, but then I remembered that there are these things called characters.  I've learned a lot by writing three books, and most of it was about how to create characters.  I resisted characters at first.  In truth, I didn't even want to have any but I realized that was not a functional concept.  So I made up a character, and what a surprising adventure that turned out to be.

They live.  That's what I've learned about characters.  They have a life of their own, to the point where they even do stuff you don't want them to do.  But you have to let them do it, just as you let a child on the verge of adulthood take her first steps out in the world alone.

The first Very Good Thing I did was invent a character, a wonderful scientist named Dr. Edward Boltzmann.  And yes, I took the name of one of my favorite physicists for this main character.  But almost as soon as he existed, he started to express "his" irrepressible humor and insight.  He was so refreshing!  And this took place almost immediately.  How could that be?  The answer is that they live; they truly do.

Once I'd created Boltzmann, I had to imagine him somewhere, and that gave me the first of my places.  And then it seemed he had relationships -- and one by one, characters began to pop up my mental landscape, the place where the stories are created.  Places, characters and interaction = the story.  It's that simple.

From there, it took off.  I'll post more in the coming days about the structure of the books and how I wrote them.  But this was how it began, with the creation of a fictional man named Edward Boltzmann.  From that point forward, it was Boltzmann (and the other characters) who took the book in a definite direction.  And that trajectory was the story.  It was an organic process.  All I did was follow along.

I don't know how I'll ever gain readers for this blog, but should you arrive, and if you're interested in writing and have given it a shot (any amateur or professional effort will suffice; I'm not snooty about this), please comment about your own experiences.

Surely someone will visit this blog one day.  Surely.