Filed under: Art, Comics, Publishing, Science Fiction, Space, Writing stuff
Sent a note to a friend, who had asked whether it is painful editing CoD:
Nah, I can be pretty ruthless when I need to be.
And it’s true. Unfortunately, when I get into the necessary detached and critical headspace for this kind of work, it tends to slop over into a lot of how I see everything. So, let’s just say my cynicism level is high, and rising.
But it is working. I’m through Chapter One and about 1/3 the way into Chapter Two, and have already cut out about 1,400 words. And after doing the preliminary read-through of the rest of Chapter Two, I can say that a lot more is going to come out of that. Stuff I like, but doesn’t really do much other than back-fill history – too much “explaining of the events and the technology”, as the readers from the publisher put it. So it’ll get the chop.
Like I said, ruthless.
But this is somewhat interesting: moon town. And hey, they have my Paint the Moon idea (which prompted my wife to send me the strip), so it can’t be all bad.
Back to work.
Jim Downey
Filed under: 2nd Amendment, Art, Book Conservation, Failure, General Musings, Government, Guns, Humor, Predictions, Press, Publishing, RKBA, Science Fiction, Society
I’d mentioned previously that I had been up for consideration for appointment to the local Planning & Zoning Commission, but had been mercifully spared selection. Well, when it was my turn to interview for the position with the City Council, it wasn’t just before the Council and city staff – the local press was there. No surprise.
Anyway, earlier this week I got a phone call from a pleasant young man who writes for the MU student newspaper. He had been at the interview, and thought that I might be an interesting subject for an profile piece for a series they’re doing about local weirdos. No, strike that, let’s say “personalities”. Anyway, he asked if I would be willing to chat with him about myself.
“Sure,” I told him. “Let me send you some links for background information. Then you can decide whether you still want to do the piece, and how to approach it.”
This is what I sent him:
Righto. First, here are my own websites/blogs:
My professional site: Legacy Bookbindery
My novel: Communion of Dreams
My personal blog: CommunionBlog
A big ballistics-research project: Ballistics By The Inch
And the related blog: BBTI Blog
My ‘archive’ site: A Fine LineThat last one also contains all the columns I wrote for the Columbia Trib when I was doing that, under the “Art & Culture” heading.
A few years ago someone actually created a Wikipedia page on me (which I need to update): James Downey
Then there’s this forum I created for the Neighborhood Alliance effort in June.
And I’m one of the primary writers at this blog: Unscrewing The Inscrutable
Beyond that, you can search the archives at the Missourian, and the Tribune for stories which have been done about me/my businesses over the years. You might also look under “Legacy Art” or “Legacy Art & BookWorks”, which was the gallery I had downtown (where Slackers is now) for 8 years.
That should get you started. 😉
Thinking about it later, I came to the conclusion that perhaps my life hasn’t been a total waste to date. More than a bit . . . eclectic . . . perhaps, but not a total waste. That’s a good feeling.
Oh, I may have some news this weekend concerning getting Communion published.
Jim Downey
Who hasn’t dreamed of a chicken that can shoot lasers out of its eyes? I mean, really?
OK, for those who wonder what the vid is before watching it, from the source:
The Chickening is a video game about a chicken who shoots lasers. Out of his eyes. Flying pizza shot out of evil cat heads from Paris, France, Uranus have invaded Earth and transformed the President of The United States of Mexico, Robot Abraham Lincoln, into a piece of broccoli. From the center of the earth the Pentagon desperately dispatches their best agent: Agent 69-420 aka The Chickening. His mission: Destroy Everything and Save the Broccoli!
SAVE THE BROCCOLI!
Jim Downey
(OK, now I need some serious drugs to calm down from that . . .) (Oh, and: Via MeFi.)
Wow – I *really* wish I had written this:
There are two types of schedule, which I’ll call the manager’s schedule and the maker’s schedule. The manager’s schedule is for bosses. It’s embodied in the traditional appointment book, with each day cut into one hour intervals. You can block off several hours for a single task if you need to, but by default you change what you’re doing every hour.
When you use time that way, it’s merely a practical problem to meet with someone. Find an open slot in your schedule, book them, and you’re done.
Most powerful people are on the manager’s schedule. It’s the schedule of command. But there’s another way of using time that’s common among people who make things, like programmers and writers. They generally prefer to use time in units of half a day at least. You can’t write or program well in units of an hour. That’s barely enough time to get started.
When you’re operating on the maker’s schedule, meetings are a disaster. A single meeting can blow a whole afternoon, by breaking it into two pieces each too small to do anything hard in. Plus you have to remember to go to the meeting. That’s no problem for someone on the manager’s schedule. There’s always something coming on the next hour; the only question is what. But when someone on the maker’s schedule has a meeting, they have to think about it.
For someone on the maker’s schedule, having a meeting is like throwing an exception. It doesn’t merely cause you to switch from one task to another; it changes the mode in which you work.
There’s a lot more, but I have already excerpted more than I usually consider “fair use.” So go read the whole thing. Seriously, do so and you will understand people like me a whole lot better.
Because I am a “maker”. Whether it is the time I am writing – working on a book, or trying to come up with what I consider a worthwhile blog post, or creating content for this or that ‘project’ – or whether it is the time I am doing conservation work, I need at least a block of a half day in order to really accomplish anything. It takes a while to get sorted, situated, and settled enough so that my mind (and my hands, actually) has the necessary calm to be creative in the appropriate way.
Most people just do not understand this. They are used to living by “manager” time, even if they are not actual managers themselves. That’s because managers usually set the rules by which other people work. And naturally they set rules that they understand and are comfortable using themselves. So even if someone is not a manager themself, they have acclimated to living on manager time.
No wonder I hate meetings and interruptions so much. I cringe when someone calls and wants to “drop by” and talk with me about this or that. Yeah, it is necessary – even in my business, I need to function as a manager sometimes – but good lord, does it disrupt me, and ruin an otherwise productive block of time.
Huh. I wish I had written that. Because in writing something, I usually have to really think it through sufficiently to bring my thoughts to crystal clarity. And this would have helped me understand some vague notions I have had much more completely.
Jim Downey
(Via Freakonomics, where the discussion is also pretty damned good.)
Sent a note this morning to a friend who wondered what the decision was on the P&Z Commission appointment:
According to one news source this morning, looks like we won: someone else (competent) was chosen. Far as I am concerned, this is about the best outcome – my wife and I both stepped up to the plate when asked, and were willing to do the job to the best of our ability. But now we don’t have to, and can get on with the other stuff in our lives that we want to do.
Link to the news source here.
So, time for me to contact the president of arts organization and see if they still want me to serve on their board.
More later.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Apollo program, Art, Astronomy, Bad Astronomy, Buzz Aldrin, Government, NASA, Neil Armstrong, Science, Society, Space, tech, Travel
. . . I decidedly *do* remember this, but it is a blast to see the pix again! From Phil Plait:
You just knew The Big Picture would take on the premier space event of the 20th century now, didn’t you?
Whoa. Head on over there for high-res spacey goodness! Many of those images made me a little choked up, in fact. Sigh.
I couldn’t agree more.
Further recollections on the 20th.
Jim Downey
And a worse sort that doesn’t even work that way.
OK, briefly: on Monday I did one of those things you’re supposed to do when you reach a certain age. No, I didn’t join AARP. I read a Dave Barry column. Actually, I lived a Dave Barry column. Well, minus the ABBA.
I didn’t write about it because it wasn’t very interesting, all in all. Or at least I didn’t think so until a couple of days later. Following the procedure, after I got home and was feeling more or less human again, I sent a note out to a couple of friends and family members letting them know that everything went fine and I didn’t have anything to worry about. In that email I mentioned that it actually went so well that the doctor didn’t even see the need to chat with me afterward, nor did they bother to show me images from the procedure. I mentioned this in passing to a couple of other people when discussing the procedure.
But that’s not how it actually happened.
My wife, who was there in the recovery room with me following the procedure, told me that the head nurse did indeed go through the images taken during the procedure with me, explaining how each just showed a happy pink colon and other bits.
Say what?
What seems to have happened is that I came out from under the anaesthesia, and part of my brain engaged well before other parts did. I was seemingly fully awake, lucid, conversational, even joking. But the little DVR in my head hadn’t rebooted yet. I had absolutely no memory of having seen the images. Some scattered fragments have since come back to me, showing that the images were stored somewhere in my head but probably the indexing function that the brain usually uses was inoperative.
This is not the first time something like this has happened to me. I have a history of waking and holding conversations, seemingly fully conscious when I am actually still partially asleep. My wife has learned to discern when this is happening. I think that it is related to my tendency for lucid dreaming – that some part of my brain is capable of still functioning in normal waking condition when other parts are in sleep mode.
Which makes me wonder – is this part of the reason why I am so creative? Is part of my brain tapping into a dream state more readily than is typical? It would be interesting to see whether other writers and artists have a similar slight scrambling of their neural abilities, a related ability to smear the seemingly discrete stages of consciousness into a blur.
And hence the quote used in the header. Because if anyone was capable of tapping into dream imagery, it was Lewis Carroll.
Jim Downey
*From Through the Looking Glass.
I’d mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I had a couple of volunteer irons in the fire, and that I’d discuss them later when things were a bit more sorted. Well, it’s not finished yet, but it has moved up a round. Here’s a bit of the story:
Our middlin’-sized city runs, as do most middlin’-sized cities, on a lot of volunteer citizen help. Over the years I have tried to be conscientious about my involvement with such, helping in one way or another to make my community a bit better. Sometimes this has meant serving on this or that committee/commission, sometimes just hosting cultural events at the art gallery, and so forth. No biggie – and I haven’t been nearly as involved as my good lady wife has (she’s done a lot more in terms of grunt work with 10 years on the Board of Adjustment).
But a few weeks ago we were each asked to apply for an open position on the city’s Planning & Zoning Commission. This job is, in my opinion, one of the worst in the city – lots of work, lots of meetings, lots of responsibilities, and you’re pretty much guaranteed to piss off about 49% of the people in any given case. But is has to be done, and having conscientious citizens who are willing to take on the grief is absolutely necessary.
Anyway, just a few minutes ago we got the call from the city administration: both my wife and I are in the final pool of candidates, scheduled to be interviewed before the City Council meeting next Monday (when they will make their selection). As I told them in my application, I will tell them in person: pick my wife.
Yeah, I’m a real bastard, aren’t I?
No, seriously, she is probably more qualified for this job (though I would bring a different set of skills and strengths to the position). And if I am not chosen, then I can accept an appointment to a state arts organization board. Of course, it is entirely possible that neither of us will be selected, which is also fine.
So we’ll see. I’ll keep you posted.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Art, Bipolar, Book Conservation, Fireworks, General Musings, Health, Predictions, Preparedness, Publishing, Science Fiction
Well, it is for me, since yesterday was my birthday.
And it’s a bit odd, but I do feel as though something is different this time around. Usually, birthdays don’t mean that much to me. And I don’t tend to put a lot of emphasis on just numerical age – mine, or anyone else’s. Besides, 51 isn’t a significant milestone in any way – it’s not a big round number, it isn’t some threshold like 18 or 21, it isn’t even a prime number. It’s just 51.
And yet . . .
. . . something does feel different. Perhaps it is due to the fact that last Thursday I finally got the long-delayed physical exam I initially went to see my doctor for in September and the results were actually pretty good. In spite of all that I have done to myself over the years, I’m in decent physical condition. Surprise, surprise.
So maybe that’s it. Or maybe it’s because I have so much good work waiting for me to do – important work, worth doing well. Not just the conservation work, though there is a *lot* of that. But also work on the care giving book. That’s important, and will be a help to others. I’ve also been recently asked to join the board of a significant arts organization here in the state, as well as to apply for an important local government (volunteer) position – more on that when everything shakes out. There’s even a publisher who has shown some interest in Communion of Dreams, though I’ve been down that path enough times to not expect a pot of gold at the end. All of these things tend to bolster one’s mood.
So last night, as we watched a bit of the City’s fireworks display from our front porch, I felt happy. Productive. Strong. With a certain . . . resolve. I feel as though I have recovered a lot over the last year, found that parts of me have been hammer-hardened and honed properly.
It is a good feeling.
Whether it will last long, or not, time will tell. But I feel more complete, more prepared to move on and do the work before me, than I have in a very long time.
Happy New Year.
Jim Downey
Communion Of Dreams 