There's nothing like the scent of warm bread on the ocean . . .

India launched the first of its new Project 17 frigates the other day, a so-called 'stealth warship' that shows just how serious the country is about 21st century warfare.

Stealth is a bit of an exaggeration; while the design reduces the ship's radar profile, it's obviously still going to be visible, as you can tell by the view above. Still, the ship is on par with contemporary designs from all of the world's first class navies, including the U.S. . . . and more importantly as far as India is concerned, China.

But the thing that caught my eye about the news stories - extolling the virtues of the vessel, at least one reporter saw fit to comment on what he considered a first-class innovation - electric bread machines.

Just like mama used to make . . .

Advice for the spelling impaired . . .


Why does my spellchecker return the word "cannabis" when it finds "wanna-bes"?

Is it a recommendation or a warning?

Cut: The e coli restroom scene


Another Fisher bit, too far over the top. Fish is in a high-tech restroom, which has ideas of its own.

It was just too much, especially where it was in the book. I still kinda like it, tho:


The men’s room was to the right. As he pushed open the door, the lights flickered on inside. The white and black tiles, arranged in diner fashion, glistened in the glow of the harsh fluorescents above. The scent of freshly fermented Lysol filled the air, supplied by an automatic mist machine in the top corner near the door.

Fisher stepped over to the urinals. He was almost ready to believe that he had found diner nirvana when the unit next to him flushed. The one behind him answered. Within moments, toilets were flushing everywhere. Fisher zipped up and headed for the sink area, bending over his coffee cup to protect it from the spray. As he reached for the automatic soap dispenser, the faucet began gushing water. Its partner answered. So did the soap dispenser. Steam began rising as water faucets went into action up and down the line. Paper zipped from the dispensers. With no surface safe from spray or suds, Fisher had no place to put the coffee down safely. Finally, he used his head – literally. He balanced the cup on his scalp, ran his hands into the gurgle, and made his escape, wet but e coli free.

In the express lane . . .

You know how they set up express lanes in supermarkets by the number of items you want to buy? And how there's always one statistician in the store who has an overflowing cart but insists that his purchases are actually below the limit because of the statistical mean?

It would be a hell of a lot easier and fairer for all concerned to replace those aisles with ones that ban carts, bags and baskets. If you can carry it to the register, you can buy it.

There'd be entertainment value as well.

Sometimes it pays not to sell*


From a recent royalty statement:

Copies sold: 0
Amount received: $34.71 Your share . . . $8.46

If I don't sell more books at this rate, I'll be able to retire around 2232.


* -Actually, it has to do with an electronic sale, the terms of which really sucked, but it looks good on paper.

Kinda like the last week or so has gone for me, actually . . .

Helios outtake: A little off the top


One of the goals of the Helios rewrite is to take some of the sophomoric humor out, backing off the tone a bit. This means losing some of the smaller moments that were inserted for comedy. It's the old less is more idea: taking out a few will make the others seem stronger. At the same time, the lead character's serious side gets more focus.

Diners are a big theme in Fisher books (and part of a planned promotion), but a lot of the over the top stuff happens in them. Like this scene, which got hit by the delete button yesterday:

Fisher spotted the waitress approaching.
“I hate to interrupt you in the middle of empire building,” he told Festoon. “But I have to get going.”
“Fisher, wait –”
Whatever else Festoon was going to say was lost as Fisher slammed the phone closed.
“What’s it gonna be, hon?” asked the waitress.
“Coffee. And the double-decker banana creme pie.”
“Whipped cream on the side?”
“Gotta.”
She started to leave, then turned back. “You don’t want cinnamon or anything like that on it, do you?”
“Cinnamon? There are laws against that.”
“Just checking,” said the woman, with obvious relief. “We get a lot of city folk in here.”

The next new bang . . .

Hypersonic glide bombs . . . coming soon to a war near you.

Full story:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/23/world/europe/23strike.html?hp

The Tomcat



Not bad for an aircraft that was supposedly underpowered* . . .

(Tomcats were retired in favor of the newer versions of the F/A-18... you hit your thirties and things start breaking down :-) )

* The early rap on the aircraft. It sure seemed plenty quick to me.

The real problem



In less than ten years, the costs have more than doubled. Salaries and company income, obviously, haven't.

Phosphorous - more than just a good spark



And you thought you were having a bad day . . .

Today's fun with copy editing . . .

Finally, a copy editor who knows past perfect tense!

A little argumentative on which and that, though. But we'll take the good with the bad. [stet cliche]

Tweet nation

So we're at the game and wondering where Mike's Arthur Avenue Deli has gone, and Jay-Roam whips out his iPhone.

"I have a legion of loyal followers," he says, citing the insane number of people who have signed up to follow him on Twitter. "I'll ask. Someone will know."

Not a peep, or rather a Tweet, in response.

Maybe everyone's baffled. Or maybe no one who Tweets likes Italian food . . .

About that Yankee game . . .

Is it a good or bad sign when the parking attendant gives you a hug and says glad to see you're back for another year?

Note to Blaze

Ten. Penn. Aloha.

You know, I really love this plane, even though it's fake.

Books as marriages & other things . . .


Speaking of Fish . . . who actually hates to be called that . . .

In a lot of ways, Helios has been one of my hardest books to write in a long time. Part of the problem I've had is that its lead character, Andy Fisher, started his life as a minor character in other works. While he's grown exponentially, a lot of his personality remains stuck back in his original incarnations.

One of the interesting - and sometimes frustrating - aspects of writing the novel has been learning how much those original incarnations can handicap you. What I originally saw as assets are now deficits. Funny eccentricities become boring and annoying when we spend a lot of time with someone.

Heh. Where have I heard that before?

One of the values of an editor is to subtly or serendipitously lead you to a new model for the character, a mental image that can help in the necessary imagining of the work. There's no formula to this; that's why real editing is an art.

Why the guru is the guru, I suppose.

Today's cut . . .

To become a cynic, to practice that dark art, one had to be at heart an idealist, and an optimist as well.

Great line, just no place to put it.

MVP! MVP!