Northbound

Where We Are (Or More Accurately, Where I Am)
The best Sunday of the year is over. I love Super Bowl Sunday, but the two conference championship games are better and there’s less hype and there’s more football. Plus the Niners lost. I hate the Niners beyond all reason and am jazzed that they lost, even though it means an NY/Boston matchup, which sucks.

I am going to the dentist today, other than that there’s not much going on. I am struggling with query letters, enough so that I’m getting neurotic about the manuscript and am going through and doing another line-by-line edit, not that it really needs it but I’ll feel better if I do something constructive.

What Has Been Done
I am not adding to the concentric Circles of Hell this week, because I didn’t do that well last week and I need to retrench.

Where I Have Failed
I got overconfident. Hey, it happens. On Thursday, I hit my goal weight for the month, and that meant that I felt that I could let down my guard for a bit. So when I underbought food for the week, I went to Taco Bell on Friday. Followed that up with another big Mexican meal that night. It snowed after that, and because of that I fixed myself a lot of hot cider for apres-shoveling time. So that was a bad idea. Had some chocolate milk at one point on Saturday, and ate a few more cookies than I needed to on Sunday. And now I’m not at my goal weight anymore.

My goal weight is not the same as my goal weight each month. When I’ve lost the weight I need to (this will be at least a two-year process) maybe then I can relax a little, amp up the carbs a bit. But not now. I am doing a lot of the right stuff; the key is to do it consistently.
What I Have Accomplished
Down a pound and a half anyway. I’m going to call that eight pounds, with a chance this week to lose that and get to ten pounds for the month. 8% of the way to the goal. (And I said last week that even if I broke even last week it would be a win, so it’s a win.)

I love chocolate chip cookies.

Where We Are (Or More Accurately, Where I Am)
I am pretty damned exhausted, if you want to know the truth, but it’s MLK day, which is one of the few free days that I get in the year. (I am a civil rights lawyer, so I don’t feel compelled to do a day of service or anything like that–I give at the office.) I had a short fiction piece about the Tylenol killer that I thought about the other day and decided to finish. I got a rejection note on an ill-considered piece about sparkly ponies I did in another even-more-desperate attempt to get noticed by The New Yorker – they didn’t like it, so I resent it to someone else, who wondered why I didn’t just send it there in the first place. Go figure. (It’s up on curtisedmonds.com, but I am far too lazy to link to it.)

I did a little touch-up painting upstairs. I moved the extension rails on the kid’s beds downstairs. I re-grouted the mosaic that I’ve been working on for awhile now, and I’m going to go downstairs and touch it up after the most recent layer dries. I did a book review for BookReporter.com – the new Bernard Cornwell book, which I finished while soaking in the tub. (Sweet!) Right now I am using the excuse of waiting for the grout to dry to write this and listen to Pat Green.

What Has Been Done
We continue adding to the concentric Circles of Hell. Last week I made two decisions:

One: Eat more nuts. I am trying a low-carb thing, and that means I need to eat more nuts. Almonds, cashews, macadamias (not peanuts). It’s the easiest decision ever. Perfect for snacking, and you don’t need to eat that many to feel satisfied. The problems with this are a) you can eat too much of them and b) I have to stay away from the Trader Joe’s honey-sesame almonds, which will fuck you up.

(I have ONE bottle of Dublin Dr Pepper that I am saving for if I get an agent, otherwise, no Cokes or Dr Peppers or sweet tea until the end of the year, and if I drink one I will say so here.)

Two: Make smarter decisions when eating out. This means getting salad instead of appetizers. We went out Friday night like we usually do, and I was dying to go to our local BBQ/Mexican place, but I said Ruby Tuesday instead, and I got a huge salad. (Which I shared with the one child who will eat salad.) It’s, okay, not the absolute best thing to eat, but it is a vegetable and I don’t eat a lot of vegetables and don’t judge me.

Where I Have Failed
I screwed up in buying groceries–I thought I had some leftover yogurt and oranges so that I didn’t need to buy five days worth of lunch. I ran out on Thursday, so I decided to go out on Friday and got Taco Bell. That wasn’t the smartest thing I ever did. And–out of nowhere–I suggested that my wife might want to make chocolate chip cookies to keep the twins occupied on Saturday morning, and I ate a bunch of them. (I fixed a very healthy dinner that night to recompense.)

What I Have Accomplished
Down four and a half pounds. If you don’t count the half pound (why should you?) that’s six pounds in two weeks, and that’s not shabby at all. 6% of the way to the goal if you want to look at it that way. But I kind of think that I’m going to take a step back next week–it doesn’t seem like a sustainable loss. If I can just hold steady this week it’ll be a win.

Where We Are (Or More Accurately, Where I Am)
I lost fifty pounds about three years ago – this would have been right after we moved into the new house but before the children were born. And they’re back. Almost all of them, that is. Blame the stress of having twins in the house, blame genetics and sloth, blame the tasty goodness that is a Dr Pepper. Blame whatever you want so long as you blame me. I got off my plan. I stopped actively trying to lose weight and tried to maintain the weight I had. (I switched from a regular scale to an electronic scale a year and a half ago and discovered that I had been fooling myself greatly about how well I was doing with this.) I actually didn’t to too terribly but every time I went on vacation I’d gain weight and wouldn’t work hard to take it off.

What Has Been Done
I am (in this installment of things) trying to follow what I might call a concentric approach – starting from the center and adding on a new Circle of Hell every week or so. Last week I made two decisions:

One: Don’t drink liquid calories. Last year, my great weight-loss idea was to stop drinking Coca-Cola Zero and diet iced tea to cut it out with all the artificial sweetener. This led to me drinking nothing but water for a month, then ditching that, until I was basically back to drinking Cokes and Dr Peppers and sweet tea. I had a whole 44-ounce cherry limeade at Sonic when I was in Texas. Lesson: I like sweet drinks. Another lesson: sweet drinks make you gain weight. So I am back on Coke Zero, but I’m treating it like methadone – only a little, only in situations where I’d otherwise be tempted (i.e., Chipotle or anyplace else with unlimited free sugar-water refills.) And yes, I went to Chipotle on Saturday – got the tacos instead of the high-calorie burrito, thank you very much. I didn’t have anything that was liquid and had sugar in it except for one glass of orange juice on Jan 1 and that didn’t count because the alternative was chocolate milk – oh, sweet delicious chocolate milk, how I love you, how you go so well with delicious mini chocolate donuts.

(I have ONE bottle of Dublin Dr Pepper that I am saving for if I get an agent, otherwise, no Cokes or Dr Peppers or sweet tea until the end of the year, and if I drink one I will say so here.)

Two: Stop Eating Lunch Out. This is a bit easier than you might think because downtown Trenton is not awash in lunch options – but that hasn’t stopped me from schlepping to Taco Bell and Five Guys, and (worst of all) haunting the Chinese buffet by Roebling Market. Lunch is going to be in my office and is going to consist of Greek yogurt, fruit, and almonds or cashews or something like that, and bottled water. This has worked OK for the days I was in the office, but I was out Monday for the holiday, out Tuesday for a hearing (had Indian buffet in the boro) and Friday traveling (had chicken tenders at Burger King in South Brunswick – no sauce, no fries, diet Coke). This could go a lot better.

Where I Have Failed
I was going to start exercising but I have not yet (except for a vigorous effort to de-Christmastize the house yesterday.). That could start next week. The problem I had was that I’d planned to do it in the morning and I’ve been drop-dead exhausted all week, enough so that I almost couldn’t drag myself out of bed a couple of days. I blame the low blood sugar. Maybe that’ll be on the agenda for this week.

What I Have Accomplished
I’ve lost two pounds, which is 2% of my goal for this year. I wish it were more – I thought it would be more after I weighed myself Saturday. And that’s not bad (considering I was traveling a lot and eating at restaurants more than I normally would). But it’s largely a rebound from a week of gorging myself in Texas, so I’m not that hopeful for what it means. Still, it’s a start, and that’s what this week was.

“I’ve got a job for you,” Nicole said.

“No.” I said. I hated to disappoint her, but it was for the best.

“Hear me out, please. My best seventh-grade teacher got called up for jury duty.”

“Stop right there,” I said. If I was going to do anything in my condition, it wasn’t going to involve seventh-graders.

“You’re being negative. These aren’t bad kids.”

“That’s what you said about the ones last fall who locked me out of the classroom. I had to climb in through a window.”

“I need somebody for the next six weeks. You do a good job with them, and I’ll try to get you on full-time next semester.”

“I want to help you,” I said, and it was true. I liked Nicole, and if she was a little young to be a principal and I was a little old to be a substitute teacher, that was all right. I just didn’t think I could leave the house, much less deal with seventh-grader hormones.

“Give me one reason why you can’t help me.”

Nothing like honesty.

“I grew a tail last night.”

“Get real.”

“It is real. It’s red, about three feet long, and bushy. Right now, it’s poking me in the ear.”

“Then stuff it down your pants and get over here. I’m serious.”

“So am I. And I can’t. I wish I could. The tail” (I hadn’t gotten around to thinking of it as “my tail” yet) “seems to have a mind of its own.”

“But you can still teach.”

“Seventh-graders?”

“Maybe not seventh-graders,” she said. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I need to go to the vet.”

“Is it… is it pretty?”

I took a closer look. The coloration was subtle, with gold highlights amidst the red. “It kind of is.”

“Look,” she said. “I get out at four. I’ll come over and you can show it to me, and we can figure things out. How does that sound?”

My new tail started wagging. “Sounds good.”

“Okay. You need anything? A brush? Conditioner?”

“Surprise me.”

Thank you for the opportunity to look around your home and inspect it for possible defects. I appreciate being of service in this matter, and have attached a brief checklist of items that may cause possible problems.

Kitchen

I spotted some loose trim near the dishwasher, which can be nailed down easily. You also need to think about vacuuming the coils on the back of the refrigerator, which can help with energy efficiency. I checked inside and noticed what appeared to be a small interdimensional portal, although it wasn’t there when I looked again later. You might want to check your warranty and see if it covers that.

Library

I was quite impressed by the size and scope of the books you have collected. I have no idea if they are valuable or not, but they do represent a significant fire hazard and you might want to invest in a fire-suppression system for this room. The bookstand with the open copy of The Necronomicon is a nice touch, but leaving the book open like that can generate ghastly noises of eldritch horror. I can recommend some soundproofing solutions that may alleviate that somewhat.

Bedroom

As you probably already knew, there are quite a few nail pops in the ceiling, which is normal in a house this old. Additionally, the lighting leaves something to be desired. One easy solution is to install some battery-powered LED lamps over the portraits; they last for 10,000 hours and provide just enough ambient light to overcome some of the gloom in there. And I don’t mind telling you, it’s just creepy enough in there that it seems that the eyes in the portraits are following you. I’m sure it’s an optical illusion.

Conservatory

This is more of an organization thing than anything else, but you might want to clean up the clutter in there a bit—I saw a wrench, a lead pipe, rope, and a revolver in there, just lying around. The candlestick looks nice, but everything else should probably be stored more safely.

Jungle Room

You probably already know this, but the big problem here is the humidity—it’s the perfect conditions for growing mold. I know you need it moist in there for all the plants, but I would recommend removing the wallpaper and repainting with a mold-resistant paint. You also need to make sure that the lid on the terrarium is tight enough so that the python can’t escape. There is just one python in that room, right?

Dungeon

The chains that you have in there right now are attached to the wall with drywall screws. There’s a good chance that your captives will be able to pull those right out. You need to make sure that the chains are bolted into the studs. I can send you a YouTube video that shows you how to do it if you want.

Laboratory

It looks like you’ve invested a lot of money on some very expensive equipment, but I’m concerned that the wiring isn’t adequate to support all the amperage you’re drawing down. At a minimum, I would shell out for a surge protector for the corpse reanimation system.

Wine Cellar

The masonry in this room is very nicely done, but there appears to be a very narrow niche in the east wall, just big enough for a person to get trapped in there. You ought to look in to getting that bricked up.

The cheap and easy availability of inter-dimensional portal travel has opened up many new destinations for the leisure traveler. Although the native cuisines of these planets are always exotic and often delicious, the Earthling visitor may pack on the pounds because of a lack of awareness about the local fare.

New Wasilla

Although salmon is usually your healthiest option when eating out, unregulated petroleum drilling has left the local fish population with abnormally high fat levels. Try the grilled caribou (not yet endangered!) instead.

Trantor

This planet-girdling city is a shopper’s dream but a locavore’s despair. Avoid the high-fat, high-sodium content of imported food from neighboring agricultural planets and insist on salad with greens grown from local rooftop gardens. If you want to splurge, try the famous teal ice cream, made from locally-harvested blue-green algae.

Bonanza

The cowboy planet is a favorite off-world destination, not only for its scenic vistas and sprawling dude ranches, but for its grass-fed steaks. Having said that, skip the “Ponderosa Platter” you’ll find on most menus – the bunkhouse fries and the buckaroo onions are loaded with fat. Try the “Little Joe,” a petite strip steak with baked potato, and burn off dessert on the trail ride.

Malthusia

Want to meet people on vacation? Try Malthusia, which boasts a population of eight hundred billion. Portions tend to the small size, which is helpful for a dieter, but be sure you get the minimum you need for daily nutrition. If you see Soylent Green on the menu, be sure to give it a try – it’s delicious, filling, and packed with protein.

Hoth

With the end of the galactic civil war, this ice planet offers the best skiing in the quadrant. Stay away from the roast tauntaun, which is always served in gravy due to its tough and stringy texture. A bowl of savory wampa soup will help you keep warm and save calories.

Holstein

With its vast fields of grass and rolling hills, it’s easy to see why Wisconsin residents colonized this verdant planet for expansion of their dairy empire. Just don’t get the cheese curds if you visit. Or the sausage. Or the sausage with cheese in it. Or the… look, talk to your travel agent and try to get your reservations changed. Please.

Betazed

Betazoid waiters are famous for knowing what you want before you even order. But if you’re craving dessert, and the waiter says “chortleberry cheesecake,” tell him you’ve changed your mind. This decadent treat is not only high in fat but there’s a twenty percent chance that you’ll get a painful allergic rash. Have the coffee and a couple of the delicious local butter cookies instead.

New Humboldt

If you have a case of the munchies on this laid-back, agricultural commune, pass up the organic granola, which has a high sugar content. Try something light-but-filling, like a wheatgrass smoothie. Just make sure you emphasize the “wheat” part.

Klendathu

The cuisine of the Bug homeworld is underrated at best. Go easy on the larvae appetizers; a few here and there are fine but eating too many can lead to an unpleasant infestation. Give the barbecued thorax a try, instead – spicy, tasty, and low-calorie.

Planet Kinsey

Just have a good time. Nobody goes there for the food anyway.

(Note: This was an entry in the recent Bartleby Snopes dialogue-writing contest, which they–inexplicably–decided wasn’t that great. Go figure.)

“Peanut butter.”
“Wait. That’s not it, is it?”
“It’s not what?”
“It’s not the word that we decided on.”
“No. I just thought you might want to go get the peanut butter. For later.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I thought it might be fun, that’s all.”
“It was a good idea. I just don’t feel like it. Do you want me to get you loose from all that?”
“No, I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Well, there is one thing. Can you reach over and get that bottle of lotion? I’d get it, but I’m a little….”
“A little tied up. Ha.”
“There’s a spot on my right side, under the corset, where it’s chafing a little.”
“Here?”
“I said right side. My right.”
“Sorry. Does that feel better?”
“Down a little bit. That’s fine.”
“Good.”
“So why don’t you want to do the peanut butter? You’re usually up for that kind of thing.”
“I don’t know. It didn’t sound that exciting for some reason.”
“Are you worried about the sheets?”
“I didn’t think about the sheets one way or another.”
“The peanut butter isn’t going to stain them or anything. They’re designed to stand up to whatever kind of treatment you can dish out. Oil-based, water-based, whatever you want.”
“They’re good sheets. I said so when you bought them.”
“I was thinking about leather at first, but there were a couple of problems. Leather sheets sound like they’d be a good idea, but most people seem to be saying that they’re harder to clean and they get slick when you get sweaty. And they don’t always smell good.”
“Sounds like you did your homework.”
“I did! I went online and everything. Found a couple of forums I hadn’t heard of before—you would not believe the kind of freakshow that some people make out of their sex lives. Anyway, this one transsexual couple in Seattle—I think they were transsexuals, you couldn’t tell much from the pictures—recommended these sheets. Microfiber. Heavy thread count. And they haven’t shrunk one bit.”
“I’m impressed.”
“They make them in round sizes, too, if you’re in to that kind of thing. I never saw the point of a round bed, though. It’s like hanging a big sign around your neck that you’re in to kinky sex.”
“You are, though.”
“Well, but that doesn’t mean I should hang a sign around my neck. There’s no need to do that kind of thing. You are who you are, and that’s who you should be, but there’s no need to advertise it to the whole world if you don’t need to.”
“I guess not.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re usually more talkative than this.”
“I don’t know.”
“You can take the nipple clamps off if you want.”
“That’s a good idea. Thanks.”
“If they’re bothering you, you don’t need to have them on.”
“That’s not it.”
“You can tell me. I’m listening. I’m not going anywhere. Not anytime soon, that is.”
“I’ve just been thinking a little. Asking myself stuff. Like maybe there’s something we can do to shake things up a little.”
“What brought this on?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure. I’m just thinking that maybe we need a change, is all.”
“Like how? Like what?”
“Maybe we need a little more balance in our lives.”
“More S and less M?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Less B and more D?”
“Be serious for a minute.”
“I’m trying to be. I don’t know what you mean, though. Balance what against what?”
“Maybe that’s not the best word.”
“Then what do you mean? Are you… wait, I know what this is about.”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t, since I haven’t told you.”
“We have a deal. Every other Wednesday. No more than that. I’m not changing that up.”
“That’s not what’s bothering me.”
“You don’t understand. I have to go to work. I have to sit down. I get sore when we do that.”
“That’s not it.”
“I am not saying I don’t enjoy it. I know you enjoy it. But we just can’t do it more often than that. If that’s what you want, maybe you can find someone else.”
“That’s not what I mean. At all. Can you just listen to me for a little while?”
“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, and I don’t want you to go looking for anyone else, either. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I understand. It’s not a problem. I just want you to hear me out for a minute.”
“Go ahead. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“Funny.”
“Just tell me what you’re going to tell me, already.”
“Here’s the thing. You go to work in the morning, I go to work in the morning, we both come home, we eat dinner, and then we take our clothes off and come in here, and that’s the evening.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. It’s usually a good thing. Sometimes it’s a very good thing.”
“Well, sure, but it’s getting to the point where it’s kind of… I don’t know, exclusive or something.”
“Exclusive.”
“Maybe that’s not the right word.”
“You want to do a threesome. That’s what this is all about.”
“Not exclusive that way.”
“You could have just said so.”
“That’s not where I was going with this.”
“We’ve been over this a hundred times. Anyone we bring in here for a threesome, that’s going to involve some kind of same-sex contact for one of us.”
“I was not asking about a threesome. Swear to God.”
“I experimented a little when I was in college, just like lots of people. But at this stage of my life, it’s just not something I want to do. It’s not exciting. And as much fun as it might be for me to have another set of genitals to play with, I know you’re more uncomfortable with the same-sex thing than I would be.”
“You’re not listening. That’s not what I meant by exclusive.”
“Then tell me. You’re just being mysterious and weird about this. Either tell me what’s going on or go get the peanut butter.”
“That’s it. That’s exactly what it is that concerns me.”
“The peanut butter?”
“This is what we do. This is all that we do. We don’t go out to dinner. We don’t go out to movies.”
“We do too go out to movies.”
“Not movies where people keep their clothes on most of the time. It just feels like everything is centered around this one thing, and maybe that’s not how it’s supposed to be. Maybe we should, I don’t know, kind of diversify. Out of the sack.”
“What do you want to do? Go hiking? Join a book club? You think anything like that is going to be more fun than what we do on an average Wednesday night?”
“Maybe not a Wednesday night.”
“We like the same things. We share a common interest. That’s not weird or strange. It makes our relationship stronger, not weaker.”
“I’m not sure about that. I’d like to be, but I’m not sure. Maybe we need to think about branching out a little bit—and I don’t mean seeing new people, before you start on that again. Adding a new dimension to our lives together.”
“Oh, my God. You want to have kids.”
“I wasn’t thinking about anything that drastic, but we can talk about it. We never have before, outside of the usual precautions. Would you want to do that?”
“God, no. Is that something you want to do? Have a family?”
“Yes. I mean, at some point. Maybe not right now.”
“Definitely not right now.”
“But it’s not so much about having a family for me as it is sharing intimacy.”
“We share intimacy.”
“Do we really?”
“I let you do things to me I wouldn’t let anyone else do, ever. That’s intimacy in my book.”
“Physical intimacy, sure.”
“Emotional intimacy, too. The whole thing. Letting somebody else see you for who you are. That’s intimacy.”
“That’s not really what I mean, though.”
“Then say what you mean. You’ve been dancing around whatever issue you have. Just come on out and say it. Please.”
“I don’t think you love me.”
“You don’t think what?”
“I don’t think you love me. Don’t get me wrong. I think we have something together. We connect. But whatever we have, it isn’t love. It isn’t the way two people should feel about each other. There’s no caring. There’s no encouraging. There’s no nurturing. There’s no growth.”
“How dare you sit there and say that to me. I love you. I care for you. I nurture you.”
“You have sex with me.”
“In a loving, caring, nurturing way.”
“You like tying me up and dripping candle wax on me. That’s not the most loving, caring, nurturing thing ever.”
“I love you. I thought you loved me. Now I don’t know what to think.”
“It’s not about thinking. It’s about feeling. I feel that you don’t care about me—how I feel, what I think, what I want out of life. And what I want out of life isn’t just what we do in bed. It can’t be just that. It needs to be more than that.”
“What else do you want? What else do you want me to do? Tell me, for God’s sake.”
“It’s not just what you do or don’t do. It’s who you are.”
“You know who I am.”
“I do. I know how shallow you can be. I know how selfish you are sometimes.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this.”
“I know you don’t take things seriously. I know you don’t take me seriously. And until you can show me you’re interested in changing any of that, I don’t know where we go in this relationship.”
“You’re calling me selfish. You’re saying that about me. That’s incredible. Do you have any idea how selfish you are? Do you have any idea what I put up with?”
“That’s what I’m saying. It’s never about you. It’s always about me. Or if it’s about you, it’s about how badly I supposedly treat you. You never admit when you’re wrong, not once.”
“I can think of a few things I was wrong about right now.”
“So you admit it. You don’t love me. Maybe you never did. Maybe we’ve just been using each other all this time. Maybe this was just a horrible mistake that we’ve both made.”
“Peppermint.”
“Do what?”
“You heard me. Peppermint.”
“That’s… oh. The safe word.”
“That’s the word that tells you to quit what you’re doing. That’s the word that tells you to turn me loose.”
“Oh. Sorry. Just a second. There you go. Better?”
“No. Because it’s not just that. Peppermint is the word that tells you to stop hurting me. You understand? Peppermint.”
“Peppermint. Right.”
“Peppermint.”

Make sure that your formatting is consistent throughout your work. If you start with a green crayon, keep using it. Don’t switch to blue halfway through.

Be sure to vary your modifiers. Here, you’ve got “poopy” in the first paragraph and “poopyhead” right after that. I would substitute in “stinkypants.” Think about it.

Set aside time to write. Having a consistent schedule helps build discipline and good writing habits. You might start with Saturday between ten o’clock and noon, if only because that lets your parents sleep in a little bit.

Always respect the integrity of your work. That’s another way of saying “don’t spill apple juice all over it.” That’s what the sippy cup is there for.

Every good writer needs a mentor – someone to pattern themselves after, someone to inspire them, someone to help shape their style. There’s nothing wrong with that. But please don’t use Khloe. She’s not even good at fingerpainting yet. And I’m not sure her parents even went to college. I mean, they’re nice people and all. Don’t get me wrong.

One trick I always use is that when I create a character, I do an interview with them in my mind, get them to answer questions. It’s a great way to explore their personalities. Kind of like an imaginary friend, I guess. Just a little. Except imaginary friends aren’t real. And they don’t need to eat any goldfish crackers.

Never use a short word when a long word will do the trick just fine. Especially if you can’t spell the long word. “Canine” starts with a C. Just say “doggie.”

Do everything you can to cultivate your inner voice. I said “inner.” Like your inside voice, but so quiet only you can hear it.

The best environment for any writer is one where it’s quiet and as free from distraction as possible. So, no. I’m not turning on The Wiggles. Just forget about it.

If the best way to make your characters likeable is to have them do likeable things, it stands to reason that the best way to make them unlikeable is to have them do unlikeable things. Like, you know, rattling the mini-blinds every single time you go near the window. It’s incredibly annoying. I’ve only said that, like, a thousand times, so cut it out already. I’m serious.

Write what you know. What you know is swingsets. So write about swingsets. If I can get a fifty-word review of the one at the playground before naptime, you can have a Fig Newton. Heck, make it two. Come on, that’s more than what the HuffPo pays me.

In 2007, I wrote a little piece for this blog where I sussed out the chances of various MLB pitchers to win 300 games. I redid the numbers, and this is what it spit out for 2011:

Name	Age	Current Wins	Target Wins	Difference
CC Sabathia	30	167	156	11
Felix Hernandez	25	79	69	10
Jair Jurrjens	25	47	69	-22
Chad Billingsley	26	65	88	-23
Matt Cain	26	64	88	-24
Justin Verlander	28	93	124	-31
Mark Buehrle	32	154	186	-32
Carlos Zambrano	30	122	156	-34

Other names:

Jon Garland (-38)
Jon Lester and John Danks (-39)
Cole Hamels (-40)
Roy Halladay (-41)
Zack Greinke (-42)
Scott Kazmir (-43)
Ervin Santana (-45)
Roy Oswalt (-46)
Tim Lincecum (-47)
Jake Peavy (-50)

Of this list, I think Hernandez has the most upside, if he can steer clear from injury and can get out of Seattle. Verlander is a possibility, but he’s played on some bad teams. Sabathia is anything but a sure thing; you have to think he’s headed for a breakdown.

Of the people who I got too lazy to plug into the table, I think Halliday has a good shot if he’s motivated and wants to keep playing deep into his 40′s; his workout routine is legendary. Lincecum is a question mark. He’s had a bad year, wins-wise, but he may stay the healthiest the longest.

Socrates:

Let me explain how far our nature is enlightened or unenlightened. Imagine two human beings, living in a cave.

Glaucon:

What kind of cave? Like, one of those ones deep underground, or one of those high in the mountains?

Socrates:

It’s an allegory. In this case, it’s not a real cave. More like a well-furnished room in the city.

Glaucon:

That’s not a cave.

Socrates:

Well, it’s not really a cave. They just call it that. It’s a silly name.

Glaucon:

Okay, I guess. Whatever.

Socrates:

The point is that these two people – they’re both men, so they call it a man-cave – are forced to stay in this room every day.

Glaucon:

Did they do something wrong to be so imprisoned?

Socrates:

I think they won a contest. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. In this room, there is a screen – actually, multiple screens. These screens show games – contests of speed and skill. All day, every day. And the two men – the prisoners – they watch these games on these screens.

Glaucon:

A strange prison, no doubt for strange prisoners.

Socrates:

All they can see are the games, projected from other locations, on these screens.

Glaucon:

Do they get to eat?

Socrates:

Yes, but only delivery. They can’t leave to get takeout. They can converse with each other about the images that appear on the screens. And they must watch every game, from the afternoon games right on through to the end of games on the West Coast, even if they go into extra innings.

Glaucon:

They can get up to use the bathroom, though?

Socrates:

Oh, sure. Anyway, the point is, to them, the truth would be literally nothing but the images they see on the screen.

Glaucon:

You say so.

Socrates:

Let us then suppose that one of these prisoners is set free. He is able to walk around the city. He can eat at a nice restaurant. He can observe life as it is rather than just the images on the screen.

Glaucon:

That would be a big adjustment. Plus, he’d probably get a sunburn because he’s been inside too long.

Socrates:

Well, probably. You can’t rule that out. All right, so he’s been watching games on the screen all this time. Let’s say then that he goes to an actual live game.

Glaucon:

If he can get tickets.

Socrates:

Let’s say that he does. Really good seats, too. The game is played on green fields, under the sun, unless it’s a night game. He sees the Jumbotron. Maybe he gets something to eat, like those garlic fries, those are pretty good. He gets to do the seventh-inning stretch.

Glaucon:

The what?

Socrates:

Never mind. The point is that the images he sees will be much clearer than anything he has seen before. He’ll be able to notice details that he never could have seen on the screen. The experience will be so much finer, so much purer than he ever could have known in the cave. Given that experience, would he then not pity the poor wretches left in the man-cave?

Glaucon:

I don’t know about that.

Socrates:

Excuse me?

Glaucon:

You didn’t say if they paid rent. If they were prisoners in the cave, and they didn’t have to pay rent, but they got to sit around and watch games and order delivery, that’s a pretty sweet deal. But if they have to pay rent on an apartment in the city, and they don’t have a job because they watch games all they time, then maybe it doesn’t sound so great.

Socrates:

We’re comparing the overall experience of watching the game from the man-cave as opposed to watching it in person. The financial stuff is irrelevant.

Glaucon:

Okay, maybe, but you have to consider the downside of actually going to the game. You have to take the chariot out to wherever the coliseum or the stadium is. Parking is always a bitch. The food will be a lot more expensive. I went to the Isthmian Games last year, and it was a total rip-off. Forty-nine drachmas for one measly slice of spanakopita, and it was cold by the time you got it.

Socrates:

But surely, the man freed from his captivity will treasure not only his liberty but his new perspective on reality.

Glaucon:

The beer will be watery, though. It always is. If you’re in the man-cave, you can have your own beer, and you know it’s always going to be good, unless your fellow prisoners drink it all. You go to the game, the beer sucks, and they overcharge because they know it’s a captive audience.

Socrates:

So to speak.

Glaucon:

Hadn’t thought about it like that. I guess maybe we’re all prisoners of whatever reality we create for ourselves.

Socrates:

That’s good.

Glaucon:

Really? You think?

Socrates:

I am totally writing that down.

Glaucon:

You’re giving me credit for it, right? Because it was my idea. I know you have lots of good ideas there but I came up with this one.

Socrates:

Two thousand years from now nobody will care anyway. Let’s go see if there’s a game on somewhere.