Saturday:


There’s one central idea here done superbly well: the Master is just doing all this to get her friend back.

Alex once wrote a piece – one I fully endorse – titled “The Time Lords are Gits and Always Have Been”, chronicling their use and abuse of arbitrary power from “The War Games” on.

And suddenly, watching this, I realised that it’s the Doctor who is the fallen Time Lord, not the Master. The Master, Missy, just wants him to see that they are supposed to be ruling the cosmos and then he’ll come back and play with her the way they used to.



Michelle Gomez is really good at this. Properly bananas as her character says. Even in handcuffs. (Eat that, River Song!) The horrible brutality of killing Osgood the cos-play fangirl – for no reason – is exactly the sort of thing that the Master needed, to underline that she is not just some suave giggling loon, but really properly evil. And grounded in a solid motivation (and decades of “shipping”), the character is a better, more worthy adversary than she has been in years.

It’s not a novel observation to say that “Dark Water”/“Death in Heaven” is Moffat doing “Army of Ghosts”/“Doomsday” his way. Ghosts or skeletons that are revealed as Cybermen; a global invasion; a twist halfway to introduce another old enemy (the Daleks even get a cheeky name-check); even the hand-brake turn last-minute twist to stop the heartbreak ending being too much.

Nor is it a secret that Moffat is not very fond of two-parters: he hasn’t done one since “The Rebel Flesh”/“The Almost People”; hasn’t written one himself since “The Pandorica Opens”/“The Big Bang”; and even when he has, it’s usually to perform a big scene shift to a second part that is often hugely different in location or scope or tone.

But Russell clearly got something right when he minted the new series with a spectacular two- or even three-part finale at the end of every year.

The success of the individual stories is less of the issue here, than how they round out the seasons. For the record, we love the Mister Master in his “Last of the Time Lords” trilogy, and of Russell’s five finales, only “Journey’s End” and “The End of Time” bellyflop into disappointing us, but your mileage may vary. What I’m saying is that the Moffat era could be characterised by series – six, seven a and seven b – that come to an end without coming to a climax.

So it’s some sort of irony that Moffat’s here using the form to write what is ultimately a pretty good story that is also a seriously good capstone to the series arcs, for a series where those arcs have been based in character rather than plot. It seems that Steven is just better at re-writing Russell “but better” than he is at his own stuff.

The other fantastically good scene here is, of course, also a collage of Russell moments, which is Clara’s farewell (even though it isn’t… what is it with Moffat-era companions not being able to say goodbye?).

The way that it’s prefaced with Danny’s inevitable self-sacrifice (a voice from the other side, riffing on Rose’s summons to Bad Wolf Bay in “Doomsday”) and intercut with the raw emotion of the Doctor assaulting the TARDIS in grief that the Master lied and Gallifrey is still gone beautifully composits the information that the audience needs to understand what is happening.

Coleman and Capaldi have been brilliant all year, but never better than in this goodbye that caps off the emotional arc of (this year’s version of) Clara Oswald where all her lies have finally come back to bite her on the bottom, only for her to finish by telling the biggest white lie of all to spare the Doctor just as he does the same for her.

If only all the moments could be as good. Or at least not so cripplingly disappointing.

When I said last time that I thought I’d been spoiled, it wasn’t about the slow, careful, clever build up to the revelation of the Cybermen in “Dark Water” being blown in the teaser at the end of “In the Forest of the Night”. Although it was.

(Of course knowing there would be Cybermen, it was obvious that they were Cybermen, to the extent I didn’t even realise it was meant to be a surprise and so the slowly draining tanks reveal seemed a bit pointless. But I didn’t spot that the 3W logo was a Cyber teardrop until the doors closed to reveal them as a pair; I’d been thinking of it as a “map” of the Nethersphere touching the larger sphere of the real universe as it were as the City of the Saved.)

But I had a much bigger problem with “Clara Oswald has never existed”, because to me that suggested a retrospective redemption of the whole Impossible Girl arc and too-good-to-be-true Clara of season seven.

With Missy, as everyone guessed, turning out to be the Master and also, as everyone guessed, the “woman on the phone” who gave Clara the TARDIS telephone number, along with the drop-in scenes suggesting that Missy “chose” Clara for the Doctor… the expectation rose that Clara was either a construct of the Master’s, like Seb, or maybe the Master’s TARDIS (remember how Clara and the TARDIS did not get on in series seven?), or even the next regeneration of the Master herself (Missy = Miss C Oswald… apparently, nahh). (Or was Oswald the Penguin!)

Having Moffat’s companion be the most specialist ever, who jumps into the Doctor’s timestream to save him and so meets him (and beats him!) everywhere smacks just a teensy bit of “Mary Sue”. But having the Master wrap him/herself around every point in the Doctor’s timestream because… “a Universe without the Doctor scarcely seems worth imagining”, now that would be properly epic. In fact, it would be an almost perfect reversal of the “they turn out to be the same person” ending that Barry Letts and Terrance Dicks had in mind for their “Final Problem”, and incorporate elements of the Reichenbach Fall ending that Saward and Holmes planned for “Trial of a Time Lord”. It would even be satisfyingly timey-wimey for a Moffat story.

Really, the only other way to go would be for Clara to turn out to have been the Doctor all along.

Oh.

The twist with Clara turns sour because it is so obviously a fake-out, and such a waste of a terrific idea.

It would be such a great story to do, too: the end of season switcheroo reveal that Doctor and companion were actually the other way around. But having done it for false now, how can someone do it for real?

But you couldn’t have done it at the end of this season eight. You couldn’t have done it after seeing Matt Smith turn into Peter Capaldi, or after the scene in “Deep Breath” where Capaldi’s Doctor remembers the phone call made by Smith’s. You couldn’t do it after a season that included “Listen” that expressly takes the present Doctor back to his childhood on Gallifrey. You couldn’t do it after a season that included “Flatline”, a story about Clara trying to be the Doctor. (Though wouldn’t that have worked differently in retrospect if she’d turned out to be the Master!)

What you needed was to end “The Time of the Doctor” with Clara (or “Clara”) returning to the TARDIS and meeting Capaldi, and he knows nothing about who he is so she tells him that he’s this man called “The Doctor” and then season eight is about her setting out to teach him how to be this Time Lord, this hero.

(And – suggests Alex – we could have cast that jobbing actor, even though he’d been in it before, who’s been in tons of things and was very respected but really became well-known when he got a bit older and got all crabby and sweary and was in a sit-com. He meant “A Very Peculiar Practice” and “Waiting For God” of course…)

In order to work, it needs some things to be more ambiguous. The fake Doctor can’t fly the TARDIS alone, for example, so can’t keep materialising at Clara’s home to collect her. And he can’t rely on pulling knowledge or Gallifreyan superpowers out of his hat (though you could slyly imply that Clara does – perhaps having her seem to appear somewhere out of nowhere, the way Missy appears to shift at super-speed when she makes her move and grabs Osgood).

There was a chance there to have done something jaw-dropping. But instead, Moffat burned that idea. Tossed it away for a gag. It brings to mind his engineering the Doctor’s regenerations so that he could be the one to confront the “thirteen regenerations limit”, only to blow it off with “and the Time Lords gave him some more lives”.

Burning up ideas like TARDIS keys, Moffat is closing the box on other people using these ideas to tell much better stories, and I think that’s a real shame. Russell used to throw out ideas for people to tie up in better stories – the Fall of Arcadia, the Moment – so it’s a good job no-one’s used those up in half-baked fan-fic…Hang on…



The Cybermen were, obviously, totally wasted. Where exactly did all those metal suits come from, I ask? Gallifreyan technology, says Alex and fair play to him I’ll give him that. And I suppose you could say that just for once in her lives, the Master teams up with a monster menace only to betray them before they betray her!

But really, do we have to believe that every single human was willing to delete their emotions and turn bad, unless they were so specially-wecially as to be in love with Clara Oswald (or the Doctor… see below). Seb tells us the Nethersphere is emptying and we see the lights going out. And yet only two Cybermen out of all of humanity resist the conversion.

Again, it’s the better story not told. The Cybermen are never (apart possibly from “The Tenth Planet”) treated as individuals. They all just become an army of grunts. (Ironically, when the season’s been trying so hard to tell us that soldiers have personalities too.)

Whatever Danny might say about the Doctor being an officer and a general, he’s lying to himself if he thinks he’s not doing exactly the thing he condemns when he orders the Cyber-army to their deaths without compunction. Though to be fair, he’s probably had Clara delete his compunction.

As for his big soldier speech to the Cybermen – was anyone else just hoping they’d reply to “love is a promise” with “we don’t care; we’re Cybermen, you moron!”?

Still it could have been worse. Oh wait. It was.



I’d really expected that the Doctor would use the TARDIS to save Kate from falling out of that airplane – as he’s done to save River Song at least twice. It’s not like he was going to be late for getting to Clara in the graveyard in his time machine. And at least it would have spared us the Cyber-Brig. Oh for shame, they even painted his handles black to make him a Cyber-leader.

The Brigadier’s passing in “The Wedding of River Song”, the Doctor missing it, and learning a lesson about mortality, was understated, tasteful and a last nod to a beloved old friend. So why the need to bring him back? And as a Cyberman?! What is it with Moffat-era companions not being able to say goodbye?

(And while we’re at it, “permission to squee” is up there with burping bins and farting Slitheen as… something I will have to get used to.) I’m glad to say that Alex enjoyed it, though. Mainly because the Master immediately shot him.

If there’s one tiny sliver of redemption for the whole wretched idea it’s this:

“Who will save your soul, Doctor?” Well who is it who is always there to shoot the monsters so that the Doctor doesn’t have to?

But, having got all that out of my system, let me return to the story that was actually there, rather than the stories I thought might be there or hoped might be there, because the one that Steven does tell is still a good story.

The genius of it is this: all season we have seen Clara trying to be the Doctor, trying to keep up with his breakneck lifestyle, trying to match his moral ambiguities. And all season the Doctor has been asking the question that Clara should have been asking herself, practically shouting it in her face: am I a good man?

How often do we stop to interrogate our own actions? Or do we, like Clara, keep on doing what we’re doing – telling the little lies to cover the bigger ones – because it’s simpler to keep following the path rather than stopping to think, really think if it’s the right path.

We all like to think we are “good men/women/choose your own label or none”. We are all the heroes of our own story, as the saying goes; and as Moffat has said, Clara thinks the show is called “Clara”. But the Doctor’s answer is a good one: it’s too hard to be a “good man”; it’s okay to recognise yourself as a silly one, one just muddling through with a box and a screwdriver, trying to help. That’s actually quite liberating – the freedom from the obligation to “do good”; and the avoidance of the total harm that “do-gooding” can do (take heed, politicians of all stripes).

The Master thinks only in absolutes. She takes the logic of being good to the max: obviously you want an army raised from the dead and slaved to your will because if you are going to be “good” you need to do all the good, stop all the evil, destroy all the monsters.

And that’s bananas.

We, as a society, seem to have gotten ourselves stuck in a place where we are all expected to work harder, increase the productivity, deliver more. We are trapped in a World of “The Apprentice” where we have to give it 110%. And that’s the same logic that the Master uses. It’s not okay to be just okay.

I like that our hero, the fallen Time Lord, wins with the simple, welcome realisation that it’s okay to fall short.

So forgive me for demanding better stories. It was wrong, when the lesson of this one is so good.

Also, somewhere, presumably, Rory has just come back from the dead again as a Cyberman.

Next Time: Santa Claus? Santa Claus! Dammit we’re British! He’s Father bloody Christmas!

Start the Wham! It’s “Last Christmas”.


*May not contain actual Cybermen.

#843, 4th December 1999

How do you mark a millennium? British pop culture has its rituals to accompany a change of the date: fireworks, lists, and Jools Holland feature prominently. They’re geared for a shift in year. They can be scaled up, just about, to a decade. But a century? A millennium? We were, with hindsight, hopelessly and inevitably unequal to the event, however arbitrary it was. Schedulers flailed, putting together “best of the millennium” shows in which – and how could it have been otherwise? – 900 years went begging. In a milieu where “of all time” means a lifetime at best, a millennium is a preposterous span. Imagining people could think about it seriously was always folly. But in the gap between people’s sense of what the occasion ought to merit, and what was actually on offer, strange things could thrive. This is one of them.

Describing “The Millennium Prayer” is a lot easier than listening to it. Originally conceived for an evangelical musical, it’s a high concept record – the words of the Lord’s Prayer draped awkwardly on the music of “Auld Lang Syne”, a spoonful of castor oil holiness as the millennium party got underway. People have rightly pointed out that the record is a mash-up – anticipating an early 00s craze for song-splicings. Nothing could be more suitable – the millennium itself was a mash-up, an ill-synced bootleg of the annual, the familiar and the cosy with a once-in-twenty-lifetimes opportunity for who even knew what. And “The Millennium Prayer” reflects that perfectly, since – as a minute’s listen reveals – the words of the Lord’s Prayer and the tune of “Auld Lang Syne” appear to hate each other quite a lot.

And when you look a little more closely at the record, this constant mismatching starts to become a trope, repeating at every level. It’s mash-ups all the way down. Take the Lord’s Prayer itself, which comes in several different versions. Cliff starts with the 1928 Book of Common Prayer text (you can tell from all the “thys”) but then jumps to the English Language Liturgical Consultation version (which is where all the stuff about “the time of trial” rather than “temptation” comes from). Whether the arrangers are trying to broaden the song’s appeal, or salvage its capsized scansion, I’m not sure: it means what you get is a version of the Lord’s Prayer that his public will be almost, but not quite, familiar with.

But cutting and rearranging the text doesn’t solve Sir Cliff’s main problem: the Lord’s Prayer is a seventy-word spoken passage generally run through in twenty seconds or so. He is trying to make a four-minute pop record. Even torturing it to fit another song and running through it twice leaves him two minutes to fill. The solution – pragmatic in one light, audacious in another – is simply to write an extra bit.

Writing a second verse for the Lord’s Prayer is a tricky assignment on the face of it, but as a pop legend Sir Cliff had access to the highest drawer of talent. Naturally, he turned to Nigel Wright, formerly of megamixers Mirage. The crafter of Jack Mix ’86 – also the record’s producer – helps turn in a suitably high-flown verse – “Let every hope and dream / Be born in love again” – to turn listeners’ thoughts to the future. (Said future, represented by the Artful Dodger’s “Re-Rewind”, kicked its heels unhappily at number two.)

But how much future would there even be? One line of the new material stands out as authentically Biblical sounding – “every tribe and tongue”, a phrase popular with evangelical churches, if Google is any judge – and indeed it is Biblical, but it’s not from Matthew or Luke. In one last mash-up, it’s from Revelation, where it describes those who have been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb – and, a bit later, those who worship the Beast. Let’s assume Cliff means the former.

So in “The Millennium Prayer” it works as a basic statement of inclusiveness, a dog-whistle for evangelicals that the record is on their wavelength, and even carries a faint hint of the apocalyptic, one strengthened by references to the kingdom come. This, after all, is what sets the millennium apart from simple ends of decades or even centuries – it’s a celebration that could also be doomsday: party over, oops, out of time. History had snatched away that promise, pushing signs of the apocalypse to the geekier margins of culture: TV serials, cultists, comic books. Replacing it was a wan corporate rebrand of the Festival of Britain, a doom that could be averted not by redemption but by sound information technology practise, and the National Lottery Big Draw 2000 with Dale Winton.

It’s no wonder some people wanted something more – something, however cack-handed (and “The Millennium Prayer” is a woeful, clunky, tedious record) that at least gestured towards the enormous. Sir Cliff saw the opportunity, and all the better that radio wouldn’t touch it – it created a narrative he loved, the aging national fixture against the hip young establishment. That sense of comradeship in the face of a fallen world is something the highly religious and the fans of unfashionable pop stars share – it paid off perfectly. The day of judgement arrived, stuck around for three weeks, and played out exactly as prophesied. Rapture for the believers; for the rest of us, purgatory.

• Buzz Aldrin: The Dark Side of the Moon
  A compelling piece.
  (tags: space )

An ad blocking /etc/hosts file.

Just a quick reminder that for the entire month of December my novels, Off to Be the Wizard and Spell or High Water are on sale over at Amazon US (The sale is only available to people in the United States. Sorry for the confusion). The Kindle editions are $2.00 and the paper versions are only $9.50.

As always, thanks for using my Amazon Affiliate links (US, UK, Canada).

Killing people.  It's a tricky one, isn't it?

We... (and, in this instance, by the word 'we' I mean that rather narrow band of people who produce and consume the artefacts of the Western narrative culture industries) ... we want to tell ourselves - in those bourgeois morality plays we call entertainment - that killing is WRONG.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The killing curse is an 'Unforgiveable Curse'.

"Make the foundation of this society a man who never would".

Luke can't be won to the Dark Side because he won't kill his father.

"Coward.  Every time."

"Stop!  I command it!  There will be no battle here!"

Etc, etc, etc.

But lookity here... our heroes kill people, or they support the necessity of killing people.  Even the 'moral' ones (i.e. the ones who aren't James Bond) do so.  Luke is nobly refusing to kill his father even as Han and Leia and Lando are killing loads of Imperial soldiers in the big battles.  The Doctor refuses to kill the threatened people of Earth even as the survivors of the Gamestation are fighting and trying to kill Daleks, and Rose solves the whole thing by coming back as the Bad Wolf and committing magical genocide.  The Doctor decrees the end of the battle, but relies upon soldiers: the Brigadier, Bambera and Ancelyn... maybe even Ace too... and the Brig saves the world by pumping silver bullets into the Destroyer.

Etc, etc, etc.

Harry Potter never kills anyone.  He barely ever fights anyone.  But he manages this by hiding in a tent when the war comes, while Neville actually fights the Death Eaters in Hogwarts, and his mates form a resistance cell and an underground radio station.  Yet Harry accepts the necessity of killing Voldemort.  He passively accepts (as he pasively accepts everything) that killing Voldemort is his destiny.  Luckily, as in every other instance (something Voldemort rightly points out), something comes between him and the ugly necessity.  Wormtail dies when his own hand strangles him, assorted Death Eaters fall over and accidentally kill themselves and their friends in order to oblige Harry.  In the same way, Voldemort gets shot by a wand, acting of its own volition out of loyalty to Harry.

In the Potter stories, killing is categorically wrong, evil, unforgiveable.  So the goodies fight the magic-Nazis with jinxes that make you fall over.  Luckily, the magic-Nazis also (for some reason) generally refrain from using the killing curse.  Meanwhile, Voldemort clearly and explicitly needs killing... and Harry is Chosen to do it... yet he can't do this without either

a) using the unforgiveable killing curse, or

b) getting very lucky (i.e. Voldemort accidentally trips over the hem of his own robes and falls onto the tines of a passing threshing machine).

Luckily, luck always comes to Potter's rescue (as, once again, Voldemort rightly points out), and - through sheer good fortune - there's some complicated business that means Voldemort gets killed by a sentient wand that, like so many expedient creatures before it, stands in front of Our Hero and does all the difficult, icky stuff for him.

(This is in the books only, by the way.  In the movies, Neville kills Voldemort by killing the snake - the last Horcrux... an act which weakens Voldemort to the point where he just falls to pieces.  Seriously, go and rewatch the last movie.  Neville is totally the real Chosen One in movie canon.)

The Harry Potter stories are among the most successful, profitable, influential, widely-read books and widely-watched films produced by the Western culture industries in recent years.  Like Star Wars and Doctor Who before them, they've had an enormous impact on millions of people - probably even more so than previous franchises.  An entire generation feels that they 'grew up with' Potter his classmates.  When some members of that generation took to the streets of London to protest tuition fees in 2011, some of them carried placards saying 'This Never Happened at Hogwarts', and chanted "Expelliarmus!" at the armed riot cops who were kettling and attacking them. 

(Parenthetically... this sort of thing bears very little relation to any of the actual political valences or imports of the stories themselves, which are soft-liberal at best, and often highly charged with reactionary implications.  There seems very little in any of the stories to suggest that the (unelected) Ministry of Magic's various enforcers might be a threat to democratic protest - at least not until the Ministry gets infected with the foreign virus of Voldemortism.  Indeed, there is no democratic protest in the Wizarding World.  Rowling's own politics notwithstanding.  She seems like a perfectly nice - even, by current standards, conscientious - liberal, outspoken about supporting welfare, the need for rich people to pay their taxes, and the undesirability of persecuting gay people, etc.  I give her no kudos for such bare minimums, but it puts her above many in her class.  However, for instance, her Potter stories feature precisely one non cis-het character... and he's only gay because the author decreed him so outside of the books... and his gayness is signified via one disastrous relationship that sapped him of all common sense and morality, and which he found so destabilising and immiserating that he never had another romantic or sexual relationship of any kind ever again.  Rowling's greedy, big-nosed, "swarthy, clever-faced" goblins are unsettlingly reminiscent of Nazi anti-Semitic ideas, in that they are clearly both evil bankers and also sneaky communists who fail to understand 'human' notions of private property based on trade. The books also feature a race of cutesy, servile elves who love to work and obey, roll their huge bulging eyes, and speak in what is recognisably a kind of parodic pidgin 'black slave dialect', i.e. "I is not doing it Sir!".  An entire species of happy drudges, depicted as pickaninny Uncle Toms.  Absolutely fucking awful.)

I could go on with that kind of stuff (the books give me plenty of scope)... but the point here isn't really to engage in a point-by-point trashing of the politics of the Potter novels.  My point here is that these stories have come to be enormously significant culturally, gaining traction in lots of heads and being co-opted for political rhetoric even in radical or activist situations regardless of their objective content.  

As noted above, the moral philosophy underpinning the books is muddled at best.  Now, that isn't a tremendous problem.  I don't demand that works of fiction rest upon meticulously consistent ethical systems (which, speaking as a reader, is just as well).  But, being children's fiction, the books greatly concern themselves with moral issues.  (As I say, Western narrative culture is much preoccupied with moralising... and this goes double for cultural artefacts produced for children.)  So you'd be forgiven for hoping for a reasonably consistent attitude to the morals being preached, especially since the books are the product of one sole author (to the extent that anything ever can be).  But the Potter books do not have a consistent attitude on this.  No more so than franchises with huge collaborative input from multiple authors.   Actually, that's the important point in all this: Rowling's internal contradictions are not rare but common.  They are, in many ways, par for the course.  Especially in massively successful cultural artefacts.

One reason why certain works of fiction obtain massive amounts of popular success is that they are relentlessly marketed... but marketing (however despicable and loathsome it may usually be) doesn't exist in a vacuum.  People market stuff they think is marketable.  Obviously.  They market stuff they think people will like.  You can't make most people buy a kick in the teeth, even if you spend billions marketing it using the most sophisticated techniques available.  There is, undeniably, a sense in which - and a degree to which - capitalism is absolutely right when it says that markets work, and that it (capitalism) gives people what they want.  (There are all sorts of problems with this - not least the incorrect assumption that there is a 'thing' called 'The Market', and that it is synonymous with, or an invention of, or impossible without, capitalism... but we'll let all that slide or we'll be here all fucking day.)  It's true that the cultural and ideological industries of capitalism - marketing, for instance - can sell people shitty ideas, or get them to acquiesence to shitty things... but that isn't quite the same thing.  And often, the successful selling of shitty ideas is reliant upon disguising them, wrapping them up in more pleasant things, or spinning them so that they appeal to our worst tendencies while also flying under the radar of our better instincts.  In short: it can be done, but it takes some doing.  The telling fact is that capitalism has to devote so much of its time, money and intellectual effort to manufacting such consent and acquiesence.  

But, to veer back in the direction of the point... aside from marketing, another reason why certain works of cultural production become hugely popular is because they reflect - in ways that are gratifying, satisfying, flattering, masochistic, clarifying or whatever - widespread ideas, especially about morality.  Justice and injustice are essential parts of storytelling, I think.  It's in the nature of consuming a story that you think about the moral consequences of what is happening, the justice or injustice of it, the fairness of the distribution of suffering and/or retribution, the possibilities in oneself to act like this or that character, etc.  It's a commonplace observation that stories designed to be as marketable as popular tend to be more morally direct and simplistic, at least on the surface.  They do it because it works.  And it works because we like it.  And we like it because it confirms, illustrates, dramatises and flatteringly reflects ideas and intuitions we already have.  Even as we are shaped by the narrative commodities we consume, we shape them.  They respond to us as we respond to them.  It isn't an equal, equitable relationship with both parties on a level playing field, but it is reciprocal.  Dialectical, even.  The point is that stories concern themselves with justice and injustice - inherently moral ideas - because that's just, kind-of, what they're for (a valid tautology).  We, humans, make stories for this purpose.  And have done for a very long time.  The stories that 'catch on' - the myths that get repeated endlessly, from generation to generation, until they get written down... all the way up to the novels and movies that do billion dollar business - do so partly because they express some widespread moral sense.  (Some might turn their noses up at an analysis which puts the financial success of Hollywood blockbusters down to their ability to express moral sentiments that chime with millions... but I want to be clear that I'm not saying audiences or film-makers are necessarily conscious of this, or that the interest of audiences necessarily equates to sympathy, or that their sympathy - when it happens - is always with what the film-makers expect, or that the role of marketing and ideology is at all insignificant, or that Hollywood films are 'improving', or that stories should be 'improving' in order to be 'good'... or any of the other hundreds of ways you could choose to misinterpret what I'm saying.)

As it happens, I do think that film-makers know how important moral questions are in their mass-market dramas.  Just look at almost any big budget narrative cultural product.  They are all, almost without exception, morality plays of some kind or another.  That goes for 12 Years a Slave as much as for Captain America: The Winter Soldier.  When George Lucas used to talk about Star Wars, he used to explicitly say that he set out to create a synthesis of modern moral notions in movie form (via Campbell, of course). 

So, you probably see where I'm headed with this.  One reason why the Potter franchise has been so hugely successful (remembering that in a bourgeois culture the 'success' of a cultural product is, ultimately, its profitability) is because it has, like Star Wars before it, hooked into some very widespread feelings among people in Western (and Westernised) culture about morality.  If the purpose of profitable art is to hold the mirror up to culture, something as profitable as Potter must have done so quite well.

The point is that Rowling's difficulties and self-contradictions and inconsistencies on this issue of killing people - and, by extension, the self-contradictions and inconsistencies that other writers get themselves into - mirror and express and dramatise the faultlines in bourgeois morality.

For all my blather, it's actually a very simple point that I'm making: our culture kills people, and relies upon killing people, and is built upon mounds of bodies... yet we enjoy telling ourselves that we think it is wrong to kill.  But this impression - that killing people is WRONG in a blanket sense, and that we don't do it - is entirely an impression of the privileged.  It is something that we can get away with believing if we are lucky enough to be far enough removed from the filthy realities of exploitation, oppression and mass murder that underpin Western capitalist culture, and/or from any immediate and pressing personal need to fight it.

Quantum random number generation using a smartphone camera.

I’d love to say nothing, but that’s not true—if we’re discussing indie writers who have remained in the business for several years. There will always be new indie writers who know very little, and there will always be those with “experience” who turn a year or two worth of sales into a know-it-all platform.

However, those indie writers who’ve been at this since the beginning of the self-publishing revolution in 2009 have learned a lot in 2014. Like last week’s piece, “What Traditional Publishing Learned in 2014,” [link], this week’s will be my opinion. Next week, I’ll examine what I learned (or relearned) in 2014, before moving to brand-new topics.

A few bits of organizational business: Unlike my previous two blog series, The Freelancer’s Survival Guide  and The Business Rusch, Business Musings will appear irregularly. Sometimes it’ll show up in the old Thursday slot like last week’s, and sometimes it’ll show up on a different day like this week’s. Sometimes it’ll be long (like this week), sometimes there will be two or three posts in a week, and sometimes there will be none. If you worry that you might miss one, check back and look at the tab Business Musings under either the Business Resources or Writer Resources in the header.

Also, please note that, as in the past, I’ll be using “indie writer” instead of “self-published writer,” following the music model. I’ll also talk about “indie publishing” instead of “self publishing,” because so many writers who are not with traditional publishers have started their own presses. It’s not accurate to lump all writers who are not following the traditional route into the self-publishing basket any longer, if it ever was.

So, back to the topic at hand. What did indie writers learn in 2014? I wish they all learned the same things simultaneously, but they didn’t (and won’t). I also wish that there were indie writer financial statements, like there are financial statements for the big traditional publishers (which is what I based much of last week’s piece on).

Even if indie writers have formed corporations, those corporations are privately held, and therefore the quarterly financial reports are not public. Privately held companies do not need to list their earnings to anyone outside of the company (except the IRS), and therefore the smart ones do not.

So, in this blog post, I’m piecing together a lot of other people’s blog posts, anecdotal evidence, and just plain common sense. In other words, good old journalist me feels a bit uncomfortable, even though this is an opinion piece, because I don’t have as much quantifiable information as I’m used to for these blogs.

What have indie writers learned?

Writing Is Hard

Telling stories is fun. Every person does it. Some of us do it better than others. When we’re in school, those of us who tell stories verbally often get pushed into theater or the dramatic arts. Those of us who tell stories well on paper often get rewarded with excellent grades and much acclaim. Teachers love good writers. And good writers are told they’re talented.

As a student, I often wrote essays instead of taking multiple-choice tests, partly because even then I was a good writer, but also because I’m dyslexic. I screw up a multiple-choice test most of the time.

Writing was easy; multiple choice was hard.

When something is easy, then you should do it, right?

The problem is that when you go from the high school or college stage to the Big International World of Storytelling, your chops can’t be just okay. They have to be wonderful. Even if you have an innate talent, you have to improve on that talent.

Plus, writers spend most of their time alone. Writers get no feedback, and what feedback they get is often negative.

It takes a certain personality type to persevere through the solitude and negative feedback. I often say I’m a writing junkie, but more accurately, I’m a storytelling junkie. I consume and create story in equal measures. Take my stories away, I’ll wither and die.

Most people have a real life that writing gets in the way of. I have a writing life that real events interrupt. Most writers who have committed a novel or two find the writing life not to their taste.

Solitude and making things up is not for everyone.

Nor should it be.

Publishing Is Hard

It doesn’t matter if you’re self-published, published by a small press, or published by a big traditional press, publishing is fraught with all kinds of pitfalls. And they collide with the work you do—the stories you tell, which are part of you.

Self-publishing is even harder, because you have to learn the skills of running an actual business. No one is capable of writing a fantastic book, doing a fantastic cover, writing a fantastic cover blurb, designing a marvelous interior, copyediting their own book, marketing that book properly, and writing the next book. You will do some of that poorly. Guaranteed, you’ll copy edit poorly. You can’t see your own mistakes.

At some point, a writer will have to learn how to manage contractors or employees, how to handle accounting and invoicing, how to read contracts, and how to do all those things most writers are trying to escape when they’re telling stories.

If you don’t learn to love business, self-publishing can be a soul-sucking experience.

The problem is that if you don’t learn to love business, you’ll get destroyed in traditional publishing. It’ll just take ten years, where in self-publishing, it’ll take less time. That’s why I do a business blog for writers. Business, as you’ll see below, is the thing that destroys the dreams of most writers.

In this new world, business-oriented writers will do better than those who want to be taken care of. But even those business-oriented writers had better have a really tough skin.

Achieving Real Success Is Hard

Sure, your first book can have 50,000 free downloads. Is that success?

Not to a long-term writer.

Sure, your first book can have 50,000 99-cent downloads. Is that success?

Not to a long-term writer.

Sure, your first book can have 50,000 $4.99 downloads. Is that success?

Well, that’s a hell of a start, the kind that’ll make the long-term writer start rooting for you, and hoping you make it through all the upcoming pitfalls. Why? Because readers are spending noticeable money (not pocket change) on your book. Lots of readers. You’re developing a true fan base, and you’re making real money.

We all measure success differently, and we should know what it is before we start publishing. But most writers don’t. Success is finishing a novel (check). Success is getting that novel published (check). Success is getting good reviews (check). Success is getting paid for that novel. (check) Success is making a living. (um, what?)

Making a living means doing the process all over again. And again, and again. Most writers achieve the first goals or a version of the first goals. And then, the real work hits them.

Lots of writers have been publishing indie long enough to realize that self-publishing is as much work as a day job, if not more work. Lots of writers who started their own publishing companies have learned that indie publishing is more work than a day job.

And expensive. Because once you’re in business, you have to pay for things that, as a writer, you usually don’t have to pay for.

Even major success—paid sales in the tens or hundreds of thousands—requires undreamed-of work. Those sales decline without more work—more books, more books, more books.

Eventually, maintaining success becomes as hard if not impossible.

The publishing business is about ups and downs, not a slowly upward trending line. And that’s really hard. Especially when success is fleeting and its definition constantly changes.

Making a Living Is Hard

Without focus, making a living at writing and publishing is almost impossible. The focus has to be two-pronged: producing the best books you can possible produce (which means constant learning on the writing) and publishing your books in a way that capitalizes not just on current product, but on future and past product as well (which means constant learning about business).

Most writers simply do not have the training for this. Indie publishing is harder, significantly harder, than traditional publishing. Yes, the percentage the writer earns per sale is larger, but the time the writer spends on things that aren’t writing is also larger.

It takes time to learn how hard writing and publishing is. It seems easy at first. It seems like something that talented college kid can do with his eyes closed.

But it’s not. Eventually the eyes must open, butts must be planted in chairs, work must get completed, published, marketed, rinse, repeat, and often without quickly quantifiable results.

Writers want it now. (We always have.) Most writers won’t get it now. They’ll get a taste of it, and then that taste will go away. Some writers are stubborn and stick it out for a few years, but after that, they get discouraged (and so do their friends and family).

To make matters worse…

The Gold Rush Has Ended

Even those whose talent for denial is as big as the ocean can see that now. Yes, there was a gold rush and it was brief. It happened mostly in 2009 and early 2010, when there wasn’t enough material on Amazon’s Kindle Store to satisfy the needs of the readers with their brand new Kindle devices. Couple that with the relative ease of uploading books onto Amazon’s e-book platform, and the barriers to publication broke down.

It’s important to understand that because there wasn’t a lot to buy, readers would pick up free books or books from rapidly spreading word of mouth, just to sample those books. Even though the books had bad covers and no copy-editing, the books would sell well if they contained a good story.

Traditional publishing decided to upload some of its backlist in 2010, and their ebook design sucked as well. It took everyone a while to get a handle on the format.

Once that handle happened, though, the gold rush ended. The days of slapping something up and making a lot of sales were gone by the end of 2010. But the rumors persisted and a lot of people got into indie publishing expecting to get rich.

For a while, it was possible to game Amazon’s algorithms to increase sales, but even that had pretty much ended by 2012. I’ll discuss this more later in the article, but here’s the upshot:

You are not entitled to fame and riches just because you published a book.

It has always been this way, and it was even this way in the gold rush. There had to be something good about that book to get a reader’s attention.

First-time writers can still outsell established writers with the right book, but how do you know what the right book is? You never will. No one will until that book takes off. It can’t be manipulated. People have tried for generations. If manipulation were possible, traditional publishing would hire writers to write the same book over and over, and never accept anything outside of their system again.

What does the absolute, complete, and total end of the gold rush mean?

It means that long-time indie writers have finally realized that if they did everything “right” (put their books free or 99 cents, had a newsletter, had the bestest key words, wrote something that was “hot”) and the books didn’t sell gangbusters and make the writer rich, then the writer had to make changes. And those changes would be for the long haul.

The idea of those changes, the fact that it isn’t easy, is causing a lot of writers to question everything. As Smashwords’ Mark Coker said in a blog post in November: 

The gravy train of exponential sales growth is over. Indies have hit a brick wall and are scrambling to make sense of it. … Some authors are considering quitting. It’s heartbreaking to hear this, but I’m not surprised either. When authors hit hard times, sometimes the reasons to quit seem to outnumber the reasons to power on. Often these voices come from friends and family who admire our authorship but question the financial sensibility of it all.

The absolute unarguable end of the gold rush made 2014…

The Year of the Quitter

Writers have disappeared from the dawn of publishing. I wrote an entire three-blog series about that in 2012, listing 12 reasons why writers stop writing. 

Those twelve reasons are:

1. Writers can’t get a new book contract under that name.
2. They can’t get a new book contract because their genre has vanished.
3. They became toxic—and that toxicity trickled through the entire industry.
4. They achieved all their goals.
5. They were no longer interested in writing.
6. They moved to a different part of the industry.
7. They got discouraged.
8. They couldn’t handle the solitude.
9. They couldn’t handle the financial problems inherent in a writing career.
10. They had life or health issues that interfered with the writing
11. They didn’t keep up with the changes in the industry.
12. They sold or gave away too many rights to their books.

Writers have quit self-publishing throughout the past five years. I wrote a blog post in 2013 about traditionally published writers who gave self-publishing one chance, then returned to traditional publishing. 

Those of us who have been in the publishing business for a long time have seen writers go away from the start of our careers. It’s predictable. We also knew that the rate of writers disappearing would accelerate from 2014-2015, when indie writers realized just how hard writing is. A lot of indie writers disagreed with us every time we made that prediction. They believed that if a writer didn’t have to deal with traditional publishing, the writer wouldn’t quit.

And now, there are blogs and comments and anecdotal evidence everywhere that indie writers are quitting in droves. This point’s hardest of all to quantify, because most indie writers who have given up just fade away. It’s not even a what-happened-to, because most of these folks never had a following. But for those who did have a small following, a few people noticed when these writers faded.

For example, Michael Kingswood, a commenter on Dean’s blog, did an informal study of the writers reporting sales on the Kindle Boards. Michael wrote on Dean’s “Writing in Public: Year 2, Month 4, Day 25” post: 

…a lot of the folks who were posting about killer sales [on the Kindle Boards] a couple years ago have vanished. Some of them I’ve looked up on Amazon or wherever, curious to see what they’ve been up to. Some are still going strong, plugging along, just not coming by the forums anymore (I guess they got bored too). But many others haven’t released a book in a while. I can think of a couple multi-tens-of-thousands sellers from the $.99 or bust days who have put nothing new out for a long time, like years. Hell, most of the other indies that I started with and conversed with back in the day have vanished completely. Blogs haven’t been updated in months or years, no releases in that long either.

Because I paid so little attention to those “bestsellers” in the beginning, I would have no idea how to replicate Michael’s search. I used the Kindle Boards then as I do now: I look for the occasional new promotional idea, modify it to my purposes, and move on. I never get involved in the discussions or the personalities—even when I’m the one being trashed. (Which happened a lot when I was doing the Business Rusch regularly.)

Sometimes writers leave indie publishing in a very public way. As I settled in to write this section, I did a Google search for a blog post I had seen in the fall, written by a writer who quit publically. I couldn’t find that post quickly. I found a different one instead, which went up earlier this month.

Suw Charman-Anderson, a British digital rights advocate and major blogger who crowd-funded her first novella, wrote a long blog on why she’s no longer going to self-publish her fiction.

She lists three reasons for quitting.

The first is the changes in the VAT early next year. (She calls the changes by the law’s nickname, VAT mini-one-stop-shop or VATMOSS.) She sells her books on her website and the change in the VAT law means she’s going to stop. She writes:

I earn so little through ebook sales that there’s just no point in me continuing to sell them, as the time, energy and money spent on dealing with VATMOSS would be entirely wasted…. And yes, there are other etailers I could sell through, but again, there’s a cost-benefit analysis to be done and, given my meagre back catalogue and the fact that I am not producing new works at a fast enough rate, I’m back to finding it not worth the time right now.

The second reason she’s quitting?

I have entirely fallen out of love with self-publishing. I started to get fed up with the verbiage, the self-congratulatory bullshit, the boasting, the ideologues preaching to their choirs, the judgemental cockwombles, and the ridiculous purity tests about a year ago.

Yeah, 2014 was pretty ugly in the writer wars. I’ve been through writers wars before, and I wait them out, but I was happy not to be blogging in the summer. Because of some of the other writer wars, I’m not going to my beloved sf conventions for a while, so I get this reason for quitting. I just don’t get it enough to quit writing.

And the final reason—probably the real reason?

Because self-publishing has stopped me from writing. I didn’t anticipate that particular side-effect. In fact, I had anticipated quite the opposite. I write my best stuff when I know it’s going to be read. I wouldn’t blog if I didn’t know that someone out there would be reading it…. When you do something you love for a hobby and then try to turn that hobby into a business it can suck all the joy out of that thing that you do….

I think a lot of self-published writers who have quit or who are thinking of quitting can empathize with that bit about turning a hobby into a business. I like Charman-Anderson’s honesty here, because so many authors don’t want to admit what they’re really feeling. She says it in a nutshell:

If I’m ever going to write again, I need to reclaim it as something akin to hobby. It’s not, at this point in time or at this point in my life, a business… [Emphasis KKR]

Charman-Anderson’s blog inspired a few people in her comments to reveal that they too have given up on self-publishing.

Honestly, I’m all for it. Not because I’m competitive, and I want the other writers to disappear, but because I believe that there are hundreds of different ways to be a writer. I have always said that I blog for established career writers, writers who consistently make a living at writing. You’ll note in my blogs over the years that I give equal treatment to traditional publishing and indie publishing because both are valid ways to make a living. A third way has appeared: being a hybrid writer. That’s the career path I’ve chosen.

But it’s not an easy path for anyone, and it’s not easy to make a living as a writer.

Most writers—even those who have had some success—quit the business. The publishing business is hard. It’s not hard in that way the poor construction workers at the bottom of my hill have to deal with; as I write this, those poor people working in a torrential downpour as idiot holiday tourists are zooming through the construction zone at 30 miles over the speed limit. That’s dangerous as well as hard. Nor is publishing hard in the way that being a surgeon is. I make one tiny mistake as a writer, and I delete and try over. The surgeon makes one tiny mistake, and someone could die.

But publishing is hard emotionally and it’s hard financially, particularly in the beginning.

I don’t know anything about the writers that Michael Kingswood mentioned or the ones in Charman-Anderson’s comment thread. But if you look at the 12 reasons writers quit, then you glance at Charman-Anderson’s blog, you’ll see that she gave reasons 7, 9, and 11 (VATMOSS) as her reasons for leaving self-publishing, 7 being the main reason.

If she hadn’t gotten discouraged, she would have overcome 9 and 11. But she doesn’t enjoy writing any longer, so she’s trying to recapture the joy.

What writer among us can argue with that? I think that’s a wonderful, valid goal, and I think if you scratch a lot of writers who’ve “quit” writing, you’ll find that they, like Charman-Anderson, have simply given up writing in public.

For everyone who spoke up about quitting, a dozen more have just vanished. This is not something to rejoice or criticize (so be careful in the comments). This is just something that is and always has been.

It’s sad if the writer has to let go of a dream. But sometimes, letting go of one dream enables people to find their actual dream. And that’s a good thing.

The Rise of the Survivors

I’m pretty sure more writers quit than survived publishing in 2014, but that’s because more writers always quit than survive. As I said above, the entire profession is hard, and for those people who want to get by without working hard, this profession is not for them. (Yes, I have a blog post on this coming in 2015.)

But those indies who’ve been at this for a few years and have survived learned a bunch of things in 2014.

Those things are:

Gaming The System Is Impossible

I started a blog post sometime last summer titled “Whining Is Not A Business Strategy,” and mercifully for all of us, I did not finish it. What caused that post, in addition to the big traditional publishing fight and all those trad-pubbed authors with their New York Times ads, was the complaints happening in the indie world.

Rather than link to them (which means I have to revisit them), I will list some of them. If you hear words in your head as you read, hear these in the tone of a five-year-old who doesn’t want to go to bed (and add That’s Not Fair! to the end of every sentence).

• “Every time we figure out how Amazon’s algorithm works, Amazon changes the algorithm.”
• “Free doesn’t help me sell my books any more.”
• “99 cents doesn’t help me sell my books any more.”
• “The tags are gone.”
• “I can’t seem to get enough reviews.”
• “Now, when I post on social media, no one responds.”

And on, and on, and on. Every trick that writers have used to up their “bestseller” numbers—usually on Amazon—worked for a nano-second, or worked in 2010, or worked for a month in 2013, and don’t work now.

Generally speaking, the first person who tried it had some success. The first person who blogged about it sent a whole bunch of like-minded system-gaming writers into the algorithm and guess what? They broke it. When algorithms are being manipulated, they cease to work as intended, which is as a snapshot of the market.

Gigantic retailers like Amazon use those algorithms to find out what consumers want, not enable writers who would rather take shortcuts to sell more copies of their books. So why wouldn’t Amazon or Kobo or iTunes change up how they do things when someone messes with their systems? Their business isn’t about writers. It’s about selling stuff to consumers.

Which brings us to the next thing indie writers learned in 2014…

Amazon Does Not Love You

Oh, the wailing. Oh, the teeth-nashing. OMG, Kindle Unlimited screwed writers who went exclusively with Kindle. When Amazon decided to go head-to-head with Oyster and Scribd and all those streaming book services, and shoved Amazon-only writers into Kindle Unlimited, it became clear that Amazon didn’t introduce its Kindle Direct Publishing Platform to help writers.

Amazon did it to help Amazon better serve its customers.

Kindle Unlimited made books free across the board. So the consumer who subscribed had access to free books, and those discount buyers? The ones who only “bought” free and 99-cent books? They flocked to Kindle Unlimited instead.

This has had an impact on the discount writers. (Those who were making a living [or something of a living] on writing books cheaply priced.) As the latest Author Earnings Report stated:

For indie authors as a whole, Kindle Unlimited likely means a lower overall share of daily author earnings going to artists’ pockets. (Similar to the effect music subscription services have had for those artists.) The boost in sales do not seem to make up for the lost market share of other sales outlets. If exclusivity was not required to participate in KU (or if indie authors were paid the same as traditionally published ebooks), this would not be the case.

The problem with Kindle Unlimited isn’t that it exists. It is that it penalizes the writers who have gone to Amazon exclusively. In other words, those indie authors who were Amazon’s best friends? The break-up is a little messy.

In the last month, authors from H.M. Ward to J.A. Konrath have left Kindle Select. Konrath won’t say how much his sales have decreased, but Ward was honest about her losses. She said that her income went down by 75%. And she’s not alone, according to an article on The Digital Reader titled, “Author Discontent Grows as Kindle Unlimited Hits Its Fifth Month.”

Does that mean Amazon will now get rid of the service and play nice with writers? Not if the service is making Amazon money and keeping its customers happy.

Because Amazon doesn’t love you. Amazon is clear about who it loves. It loves its customers. And it loves its customers because its customers are the source of its revenue.

So, like any big company, Amazon loves money.

Who knew?

In addition to learning that Amazon doesn’t love its indie supporters, indie writers also learned…

No One Loves You

Oh, dear. That fickle finger of fate. If I had room, I’d post a gif.

Over and over again in 2014, indie writers learned that big companies were…big companies. It took months into 2014 before EroticaGate receded into the past. Kobo removed erotic book titles wholecloth in October of 2013, and then reviewed all of the books in an attempt to be fair before making the removal permanent. (For many books, the removal wasn’t permanent.)

Books got pulled for other reasons. Amazon would ban an author who wrote (nasty) reviews of another author’s work. If a book looks “suspicious,” meaning it might have stolen copyrighted material inside, the book got taken down without a hearing. All sites have that policy. Some allow the writer to appeal. Some do not.

There is no guarantee, none, that a book will appear in a bookstore. I don’t care if that bookstore is a brick-and-mortar store down the block or a bookstore that exists only on line.

Writers are not entitled to have their books on the virtual shelves or the real shelves.

And indies really, truly, completely learned that lesson in 2014.

Your Readers Don’t Even Love You (All The Time)

You don’t collect and hoard readers. Readers can collect and hoard books. It doesn’t work the other way around.

Readers support the authors whose work they enjoy. Readers can become very passionate about writers/books/series. But when that writer stops writing or the books don’t appear fast enough or the series doesn’t get complete, the reader moves on to other writers’ work.

Sorry. Your readers might love you today, but six months from now your readers (particularly your younger readers) might consider you a phase that they outgrew.

Just because you have a reader doesn’t mean you get to keep them. You must earn them. You’re only as good as your most recent book—whatever that is. I add “whatever that is” because in this world, books don’t go out of print. So to one reader, your most recent book might have been published in 2010, and to another, your most recent book really is your most recent book.

If the reader doesn’t like that book, then the reader probably won’t pick up your next—or pick it up as fast as he normally would.

And a lot of very popular writers learned those lesson in 2014. That was one of the Kindle Unlimited lessons (see above).

If readers can get something for less, they will, even if that might hurt the writer’s bottom line. It makes sense. Are you going to spend a lot of money to support someone else when you need that money yourself? Not unless you’re the parent of or the responsible party for that someone else.

2014 was the year in which many indie writers learned they can’t rely on their readers to always fill in the financial gaps…even if the sales figures remain the same.

(Sidebar: 2015 will be the year that traditionally published bestsellers will learn that lesson. Again, that’s an upcoming post.)

The successful indie writer doesn’t take her readers for granted—and she certainly never talks about “getting” readers, as if she can keep them. The successful writer should be grateful for each and every reader she has, and even more grateful for the returning readers.

I know I am.

Sales Based On Price No Longer Work

They really haven’t worked for years, but, like the gold rush, even the most denial-filled indie writers are starting to figure out that just because their books are cheap, it doesn’t mean readers will pick up that book. For some of the reasons why, see the Gaming The System part above.

I’ve written about this before, especially in my Discoverability posts earlier in the year. The arguments I got about price were just irritating. It didn’t help that I wrote them backwards (as I often do when I’m structuring a book). The information on price—and how-to price your work—is best in the book Discoverability which came out this fall.

Or read those blog posts here for free (horrors! Free!), but start with “Marketing And Readers” and go back to the pricing posts. 

Russell Blake has a lovely blog on price called “The New Landscape.” (Even though the landscape isn’t new. It’s the way that retail works.) And now that traditional publishers have been dragged kicking and screaming into pricing ebooks as ebooks not as a necessary evil that cuts into hardcover sales, the final nail really is in the indie-is-cheaper coffin. Go. Read the post. He might be talking to you. 

I’m not going to dwell on pricing here. Let Blake fight that fight. I fought it earlier in the year, and I’m pooped. If you haven’t learned that you’re selling books retail by now, and that means learning all the stuff other retail businesses learn about price (Google “pricing strategies for retail.” Go ahead. I dare you). There’s a lot to learn, and you don’t learn it by doing what other writers do. You learn business.

The surviving indies are doing just that.

As they realize—or as Blake pointed out in his blog…

Running With The Big Dogs Is Hard

Now that the last thing that differentiated traditional publishing from indie—price— has leveled out, indies discovered in 2014 that they’re no longer competing with each other. They’re competing with traditionally published books, including long-term bestsellers who, I’m sorry, know more about craft than I do. Hell, I’m constantly learning how to improve my storytelling from these folks.

You should too.

Because if you want to sell your books at big numbers, then you need to offer as good or better products than the long-term traditional bestsellers do.

If that scares you and makes you want to quit, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

If that excites you, welcome, my friend. We have a lot to discuss.

Yep, running with the big dogs is hard. It has always been hard. Even when indie writers sold well at cheap prices, they were competing with the big dogs. And they weren’t really doing better—except that they got a better royalty rate. Indies were selling niche books in a niche market. As that market grew, the indie market share grew—but so did the Big Dog market share.

If that weren’t true, then traditional publishers wouldn’t have gotten into prolonged fights with online retailers—first Simon & Schuster with Barnes & Noble in 2013 (remember that?) and then everyone and Amazon. The Justice Department wouldn’t have gotten involved.

We’re talking about a lot of money, folks, and indie right now only has a teeny tiny bit of the pie. You want more, up your game.

Or as Blake says,

Pro basketball players don’t tell themselves that they don’t have to be all that great because there are plenty of mediocre players. Pro dancers don’t argue that they should be given center stage because they’re precious snowflakes, and their deficiencies should be ignored. Pro competitors in any arena strive to be the absolute best, and demand the most out of themselves, making no excuses, asking for and offering no quarter.

The indies who can’t cut it are leaving in droves. The survivors who remain are tough competitors. They might not be able to play one-on-one with LeBron, but they’re working on it.

And that’s all we can do.

The major lesson those indies have learned in 2014 is…

There Is No Status Quo

Working in the arts means accepting constant change. Constant change. The change hit the publishing industry in its delivery systems as well in the 21^st century, and that was the shock.

But so many writers kept waiting for things to stabilize. They thought once they figured out the algorithms, they had it made. Once they figured out how to leverage free, they had it made. Once they figured out how to “get” readers, they had it made.

Um, nope.

Being an artist is about constant improvement. Working forward. Doing your best work. But your best work this year should be better than your best work in 2010. Does that mean you should revise everything you did in 2010 to make it more appropriate for 2015? Nope.

Move forward.

One of the stupidest gambits I’ve heard from writers in recent years comes from the indie world. Apparently, writers are now searching key words on Amazon bestseller lists—and writing books based on those key words.

Oh, heavens, folks. The Amazon bestseller lists are a fraction of the market in the first place, and in the second, they only reflect what sells well now. What will sell well next Christmas is anyone’s guess—and generally speaking, anyone will be wrong.

All these gamings and gambits and strategies are based on status-quo thinking.

Smart survivor indies realize that they need to do the best they can, writing what interests them, then putting the correct cover on the book for that book’s publication date, maybe marketing that book or maybe not, and then writing the next book.

Because if you’ve pleased a reader with a good story and the reader finishes that story, you have a short window for that reader to search for another book of yours. Once the window is closes, the reader moves on to other writers, and forgets you.

Not even readers remain the same from minute to minute.

There is no status quo in the arts. None. Never has been, never will be.

So stop searching for one, and move forward, doing your best work.

Like the smart indies are doing.

Smart indies have made one other major realization in 2014, and it’s an important one.

There Is Such A Thing As An Indie Midlist Career

Just like in traditional publishing, indie publishing has proven over and over again that not every writer is a true bestseller—and by that, I mean someone who earns 6-to-8 figures per year regularly on his books.

But, as the Passive Guy proved with his posts called “Indie Authors Quitting Their Day Jobs,” lots and lots and lots of indie authors are making enough to out earn what they earned working for someone else. 

M.C.A. Hogarth wrote the best blog on this, though. She understands the financial value of the artistic freedom that indie writing has given all of us. She writes,

And here’s the best news of all: I don’t have to be a bestseller to make comfortable money. In the past, if I had wanted to stay home and write books full-time, I had to hope I could sell my books to thousands of people. Now, I can make good money selling to hundreds. And hundreds of people is do-able. It might take some time to get there—I put my first story up on Amazon in 2009, so I’m into year 5 here—but it can be done.

This, this, is what the self-publishing revolution has brought us. It has brought us writers who can write whatever they want. All those writers who wanted to get rich quick or who wanted millions of sales as validation or who write to order because they think that’s how it’s done are wrong.

They didn’t survive or, if they’re still with us, they won’t be around five years from now.

Writers like M.C.A. Hogarth? Writers like me? We’ll be around.

Because we’re doing what we love.

And when you do what you love, you learn all aspects of it, from craft to business. You do what you need to in order to continue doing what you love.

But mostly, you get rewarded for your creativity in large and small ways.

What did indie writers learn in 2014? Hell if I know. I learned (again) that this is one marvelous and exciting career. I learned I’m lucky to do it for a living.

I learned that life is pretty damn good.

Next week, I’ll post a long blog on the details of the things I’ve learned in 2014—warts and all.

And then in 2015, I’ll post some of those (already finished) blogs I’ve promised you.

Yes, I’m back. And happy to be writing nonfiction again.

Who’d’ve thunk it?

Certainly not me.

Thanks for visiting the blog—and thanks for all the support last week. Your letters, comments, and private notes really touched me. Thanks too for the donations, because I don’t get paid for most of the nonfiction that I write.

So…if you found anything of value in this post, please leave a tip on the way out. And yes, White Mist Mountain is my company.

Thanks!

Click Here to Go To PayPal.

“Business Musings: “Things Indie Writers Learned in 2014,” copyright © 2014 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch.

 

I'm oddly fascinated about bizarre pricing practices in business…like stores where you can buy a certain item for 79 cents or two for $1.65. I often notice in supermarkets that they're selling Friskies canned cat food for 50 cents a can or a box of 20 cans for eleven dollars. This is presumably known in the trade as a Reverse Quantity Discount.

Last evening, I went out on some errands and on a whim — and because I had a coupon — I decided to pop into a Subway sandwich shop. On the way in, a homeless gent asked me for spare change and I made a mental note to give him any I had on my way out.

As I mentioned here, I occasionally like Subway and when I do, I get either a meatball marinara sandwich or a tuna sandwich. The coupon I had said, "Buy ANY 6-inch sub with a 30 oz. drink and get ANY 6-inch sub of equal or lesser price FREE!" So I went in, figuring I'd get one of each — one meatball, one tuna — for the price of one of them.

The lady behind the counter said I couldn't do that. She pointed to fine print on the coupon that said, "Not valid on $2 subs or Flatzilla." And then she pointed to the big menu board where I could see that the meatball marinara sandwich was on sale for $2.00. "You can't get a $2.00 sandwich in the special," she explained.

I said, "I don't think that's the intention of the offer. They don't want me to get two sandwiches for $2.00 but they're fine if I get any two for $4.50." $4.50 was the list price of the tuna sandwich and most of the other ones on the menu board.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't make the rules and the $2.00 sandwiches cannot be purchased on the coupon deal."

I explained to her that I wanted to buy a tuna sandwich for $4.50 and also pay for a 30 oz. drink (and they could keep the drink since I don't ingest soda) and then get a meatball marinara sandwich for free since it was, as the coupon said, an "equal or lesser price."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't make the rules and the $2.00 sandwiches cannot be purchased on the coupon deal."

"No, no," I tried to explain. "You're telling me that if I buy the tuna sandwich for $4.50 and pay for a 30 oz. drink, I can have a $4.50 sandwich for free but not one that usually costs $4.50 and is on sale at the moment for $2.00!"

"Exactly," she said.

"Okay, let's try it this way. Let's say I come in and ask for a tuna sandwich and a coke. You make them up and then I show you the coupon. You say, 'Oh, for the same price, you're entitled to pick another sandwich for free!' Are you with me so far?"

She said yes.

"Fine. So I say I'd like the meatball marinara. Do you then say, 'I'm sorry, sir. For your free sandwich, you have to pick a more expensive one'?"

"That's right," she said. "Would you like to talk to the manager?" Just then, the manager walked in, probably returning from taking his dinner break at a better, saner restaurant. I explained the whole thing to him, concluding with: "So if I want two of your most expensive sandwiches, they'll run me $4.50 but if I want one of your most expensive sandwiches and one of your least expensive sandwiches, that'll be $6.50."

The manager said, "Yes, sir. Those are the rules."

By this point, I realized that they weren't the stupid ones here. The stupid one was the guy spending all this time arguing over two dollars…actually fifty cents since to get the deal, I was also going to buy a $1.50 soda I didn't want.

So I went out and asked the homeless guy what kind of sandwich and drink he wanted. He said, "Black Forest Ham on 9-Grain Wheat with plenty of mustard, and a Diet Coke." Then I went back in and used my coupon to get a Black Forest Ham on 9-Grain Wheat with plenty of mustard and a Diet Coke and as my free sandwich, I got tuna, plus I bought a $2.00 meatball sandwich. Then on the way out, I gave the ham sandwich and the drink to the homeless gent and went home with my meatball sandwich and my tuna sandwich.

Yes, it cost me way more than it should have but I got to use my goddamn coupon. Don't tell me I don't know how to save money.

I first posted this back in 2008. Since then there have been a couple more white Christmases, but it seems worth repeating...


Why is snow so firmly established in our ideal Christmas when there have been only seven white Christmases since 1900?

It is all down to Charles Dickens.

The Daily Telegraph quotes a Canadian professor as saying:

"The whole of A Christmas Carol is really an invocation of his childhood Christmases with his family before his father fell into debt and was sent to the debtors' prison. 

"A Christmas Carol made Christmas respectable for the English bourgeoisie, who had come to regard it as somewhat antiquated."

And what were those early Christmases like for Dickens?

The Telegraph says:

A decade of unusually cold weather during his childhood may have influenced his description of Britons "scraping the snow from the pavements in front of their dwellings, and from the tops of their houses" on Christmas morning despite the statistical probability of a grey winter day like any other. 

Six of Dickens's first nine Christmases were white, including one in the winter of 1813-14 during which the ice on the River Thames was thick enough to bear the weight of an elephant. 

Whether they tested this with a real elephant is not disclosed.

The rise of the shitpic: memes that keep getting copied imperfectly.

President Obama said that Sony Pictures Entertainment "made a mistake" by withdrawing The Interview from its Christmas Day release. I'm not sure I agree. Depending on some facts that are not in our possession, it might be a highly responsible action…or at the very least, a course of action in which they did not have much choice.

And I guess I should preface what I'm about to say with the reminder that I am not in favor of terrorists "winning" and that I'd like to think I have a fair amount of street cred as a defender of the First Amendment. I'm also not convinced this is really a First Amendment issue.

The First Amendment says our government can't stop free expression. It says nothing about other governments or parties which may be acting in accord with other governments. A couple of folks on the local news last night seemed to think we have some Constitutional right as Americans to see this movie. Well, no. Sony has the right to withdraw it and bury it and we have no "right" to see it. (Reportedly, some highly-placed folks at Sony were considering not releasing it even before the computer hacking occurred.)

To me, I don't see this as a First Amendment issue so much as an issue of criminal extortion. It's also an issue of the folks at Sony deciding what's best for the folks at Sony and for exhibitors deciding what's best for them.

Right now, I can think of two things I don't know and you probably don't know that might make a difference in how we view this whole matter…

1. How good is this movie? I don't mean as Fine Art. I mean as something that will sell tickets.

Thursday night at the screening I attended, there was what we call an Industry Crowd, meaning the entertainment industry. I heard much talk about the whole matter and I kept hearing — this is the rumor mill speaking now — that everyone at Sony thought the film was awful and that they were just hoping to get it into theaters and make some bucks before reviews and word of mouth killed it. It's common knowledge the film's release was delayed from last August because Sony demanded changes.

I'm not suggesting that good films deserve to be defended and bad ones don't. But before the hacking and threats, Sony had the right to decide the film was a lox that wasn't worth releasing. Some execs at Sony felt that way; that the film shouldn't be released…or maybe wasn't worth the problems it might cause. (No one in the film business is dense enough to think a movie about assassinating a foreign leader couldn't possibly get anyone upset.) And they had the right to make that decision. I'm suggesting they still have that right. Which brings me to the other thing we don't know…

2. How credible are the threats of "9/11 style terrorism" against theaters that show this film?

The Department of Homeland Security says they're not credible and they're probably right. Then again, someone at Sony probably assured the execs there than their computer system was unhackable.

Imagine you're the operator of a multi-screen cinema that was booked to show The Interview. You've heard there are threats of terrorism against any theater that shows this film. Even if it's only a 1% chance, do you still book the movie? And I'm thinking you're not even worried about someone bombing your theater. I'm thinking you're worried about people not coming to your theater, not even to see the other movies you're showing, if The Interview is also on the marquee.

You have a lot of great, potentially-lucrative movies opening on or around Christmas Day: Unbroken, Into the Woods, The Gambler, Big Eyes, Leviathan…plus recent releases like The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies, Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb and Annie. You don't need The Interview to sell tickets. Why risk even the teensy chance of violence or the greater risk of people deciding not to go to a movie where there's that teensy threat of terrorism?

On a purely financial basis, which is the only consideration in so many businesses today and not necessarily a wrong one in this matter, I understand the theaters bailing on it. I further understand Sony deciding that if not enough theaters are going to show it, maybe it doesn't make sense to let any show it…now. And I really understand them saying, "Look, let's take some time and figure out the best other way to exhibit this film."

Is this giving in to terrorists? Probably. We do that in this country. We cancel airline flights if there's even a vague threat. We evacuate buildings if there are suspicious packages. In a sense, the terrorists/hackers have already won this one. At least one movie — it was to be Steve Carrell's next — has been cancelled due to its anti-Korea theme. And you can pretty much bet that no one in Hollywood is green-lighting anything that involves showing Kim Jong-un's head exploding or which might even annoy him.

Also, cybersecurity experts are saying that just dealing with the computer hack will cost Sony upwards of $100 million and you can imagine what other businesses are suddenly spending to beef up their security. They're terrified it'll happen to them. Add all this up and it's not a bad victory for whoever decided to terrorize someone via computer. Even if The Interview does get released eventually, they'll have won a lot.

And experts are saying there are many other ways Sony can release The Interview. I'm wondering if the company will decide they're cost-effective. They may just seize on it as an opportunity to dump (and perhaps take tax write-offs on) a movie that some folks there didn't think should be released in the first place.

But you're saying — I can hear you — a crime has been committed. What about that? And if Sony did decide they wanted to give it a full release, what should be done? Well, let's forget for a moment that this is about a movie. Imagine foreign hackers break into the computer system of a big company in this country the size of Sony. Or even say it is Sony. They steal data, they publicize things that are embarrassing, they throw panic in all directions because they now have everyone's banking information, etc. Then instead of demanding that a movie be withdrawn or edited, they demand ten billion dollars to not use or disseminate that data. That's as likely to happen as what did happen.

What should be done in that case? I dunno. But whatever it is, I think that's what should be done in this case. Treat it as extortion, which is a very serious crime, not as an assault on our Free Speech. Sony should be free to decide on the disposition of The Interview based on whatever they think is best for their business.

It will not destroy the First Amendment if they decide it ain't worth it. Our Congress will still not be able to make a law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances. But before we take up arms to defend its spirit in this case, let's see if the guys who financed this movie still think it's worth fighting for. Because I think it's quite likely they just want to cut their losses and get out before their kids' PlayStations get hacked. Or someone really gets assassinated.

My spreadsheet of HIGNFY guests and guest hosts broken down by gender is now complete for the end of series 48. The good news is that as well as featuring the first show with all-female guests since 1997 (and the first time ever that a majority of people on air during an episode were female), the series overall had the highest percentage of female guests ever for the series.

The bad news is that was still only 13 out of 30 guests (and 4 out of 10 hosts) and that came after the show had reached 50% of guests being female (and a majority of the hosts) after the first six episodes. They managed to achieve parity – and the sky didn’t fall in when there were more women than men on screen – but then threw it away over the last few episodes.

Maybe 2015 will be better. It might even be the start of the 27 consecutive seasons with all-female guests they’d need to balance the series out overall.

Lord Bonkers writes exclusively for Liberal England:

It is important to recognise when a leader’s reign has come to its end. It can be difficult, when one admires a fellow oneself, to admit that the results he is getting have not been good enough for a good while. 

However, time moves on, and one has to be prepared to act decisively. For a leader who impressed people only a few years ago may no longer cut the mustard today.

Warnings about the dangers of hung parliaments might have less resonance

One of the reasons why the LDs went into coalition in 2010 because they wanted to show that multi-party governments were possible. This followed an intensive end to the GE10 campaign when much of the Tory focus was designed increase worries and about what having an inconclusive outcome might mean.

Well four and a half years in the coalition has survived and there appears to be not too much appetite for single party government judging by the record polling lows for the aggregate CON+LAB share, now down to about 60% with the phone pollsters.

This is reinforced this morning by polling that suggests that voters prefer a multi-party political system, and not one dominated by the traditional big two parties. It was carried out by ComRes for the Electoral Reform Society.

The survey, which covered the 40 most marginal Conservative-Labour constituencies (ie. the areas where the traditional two-party battle ought to be fiercest) found that:

67% believe the rise of smaller parties such as UKIP and the Greens is good for democracy (against just 16% who support the opposite)

51% believe it is better to have several smaller parties than two big parties (against 27% who oppose)

50% believe the era of two parties dominating British politics is over (against 32% who oppose)

The same poll showed that people are comfortable with the implications of a multi-party system, and prefer parties to work together in the common interest rather than continually attack each other:

78% believe the Opposition should work with the government on issues they agree on

54% believe Parliament works best when no party is too dominant so that cross-party agreement is needed to pass laws

Mike Smithson

2004-2014: The view from OUTSIDE the Westminster bubble

Follow @MSmithsonPB

I’m on a plane right now, flying from Sacramento back to Albany. And sitting here I’m reminded of how air travel itself reflects the growing inequality of society in a trivial, but suggestive, way.

Planes have always had first-class and passenger cabins, at least as far as I know. If the Titanic had this distinction, I’m guessing it was in place from the beginning of commercial aviation.

But for most of my adult life, planes — at least the ones I usually fly on, from one U.S. city to another — looked something like this:

Just roughing it out here, this means that 7% of the passengers used about 15% of the room, with the other 93% using 85% of the cabin space. Such a plane would have a Gini index of about 8. The Gini index is measure of inequality, a fancy statistical way of representing inequality in the income distribution of a country’s population. For reference, the U.S. Gini is about 48, and the global one is around 65.

Domestic airlines have pretty much moved to a three-tier system now, in which the traditional first-class seating is supplemented by “Economy Plus,” in which you get an extra three or four inches of legroom over the standard “Economy” seats. I, as usual, am crammed into what should really be called “Sardine Class” — where seats now commonly provide a pitch of 31”, a few inches down from what most planes had a decade ago.

In today’s standard U.S. domestic configuration, the 12% of people in first class use about 25% of the passenger space, the 51 people in Economy Plus use another 30%, leaving the sardines — the other 157 people — with 45%. That gives us a Gini index of about 16.

Transatlantic flights, however, are increasingly taking this in-the-air distinction to new heights. Take, for example, the below United configuration of the Boeing 777. It boasts seats that turn into beds on which one can lie fully horizontal. United calls this new section of bed-seats “BusinessFirst.”

Unsurprisingly, though, these air-beds take up even more space than a nice comfy first class seat. So if we look again at how the space is distributed, we now have 19% of the people using about 35% of the plane, 27% using another 25%, and the final 52% using the last 40%. The Gini index has now increased to 25.

It’s not often you see such a clear visual representation of our collective acceptance of the right of a small fraction of people to consume a very disproportionate percentage of resources. I wonder how much of the shift is actually driven by increased inequality, as opposed to improved capacity for price discrimination.

And it’s also worth noting that the plane above, while unequal relative to the old-fashioned three-rows-of-first-class-and-the-rest-economy layout, is still nowhere near the inequality of the U.S., or the world.

Elizabeth Popp Berman, PhD is an associate professor of sociology at the University at Albany.  She is the author of Creating the Market University: How Academic Science Became an Economic Engine and regularly blogs at OrgTheory, where this post originally appeared.

(View original at http://thesocietypages.org/socimages)

FESTER AND THE CHRISTMAS MOUSE

By Paul Magrs

A Merry Christmas to all those of you reading this. Every year I send out a story in my Christmas cards, and every year I put the previous year's online. The past ones are all archived on this blog, but 2013's was a touch experimental, being 720 words of prose supplied on seven cards that could be rearranged in different combinations to create 720 different narratives[1]. That isn't something I

A thought occurred to me this morning that with Gordon Brown stepping down as an MP at the next election, if David Cameron is re-elected, there’ll be no former Prime Minister in Parliament. There’ll be living former Prime Ministers – John Major, Tony Blair and Brown – but as the first two haven’t taken seats in the Lords, they’re not in Parliament. Assuming Brown chooses to follow their example (possibly confirming a new precedent), none of them will be in Parliament.

That got me wondering about if it had ever happened before, and if so, when was the most recent case of it? Going back to the start, this is what I found:

Following the convention, we’ll assume Walpole was the first Prime Minister, and thus there was no former one in Parliament during his time in office. Having been created Earl of Orford, he remained in Parliament until his death in 1745, through the whole of the Earl of Wilimgton’s time as PM and the first two years of Henry Pelham’s.

Wilmington and Pelham both died in office, thus there were no living former PMs during the Duke of Newcastle’s first period in office. He was then replaced by the Duke of Devonshire before returning to office when Devonshire resigned. Newcastle was in power till 1762, and Devonshire didn’t die until 1764, then Newcastle lived on until 1768, during which time the Earl of Bute, George Grenville, the Marquess of Rockingham and Pitt the Elder all served as Prime Minister.

Of those four, Bute lived the longest and held a peerage, thus remaining a member of Parliament in the Lords until his death in 1792. There were a number of Prime Ministers during that time, the longest lived being the Duke of Grafton, who survived until 1811. Following him, Henry Addington (who joined the Lords as Viscount Sidmouth after being Prime Minister) lived until 1844.

(EDIT: Charles Dundas in the comments points out that the Earl of Bute was only a member of the Lords until 1780, but Grafton was an ex-PM in the Lords from 1770 until 1811)

Viscount Goderich was the longest-surviving PM of Addington’s time, living till 1859 (and outliving four of his successors), with Lord John Russell (later the first Earl Russell) the longest-lived of Goderich’s time. Russell lived to see Disraeli and Gladstone trade the premiership back and forth, though Gladstone was the longest-lived. However, he did not enter the Lords, and served as an MP until 1895. When Gladstone left Parliament, however, his successor the Earl of Rosebery also lost the Premiership to the Marquess of Salisbury, though Rosebery lived on until 1929.

At Rosebery’s death, David Lloyd George was still in Parliament and would serve as an MP until 1945, while Stanley Baldwin (both a former and future PM at the time of Rosebery’s death) would be in the Lords as Earl Baldwin until 1947. Attlee and Churchill were then both former Prime Ministers and leaders of the Opposition while the other was in office. Attlee would remain in Parliament as Earl Attlee until his death in 1967, and then there would always be at least one former Prime Minister in the House of Lords until Thatcher’s death in 2013.

On her death, Gordon Brown became the only former Prime Minister left in Parliament, and so, to answer my original question, if Cameron remains as Prime Minister and none of the three living former PMs enter the Lords, this will be our first time without a former Prime Minister in Parliament since the Duke of Newcastle’s first term in 1754-56.

Early in 2011, I posted this piece of what I still think is sound advice. And hey, if you have a past posting here you think is worthy of a reprise, please drop me a line and tell me. In the meantime, here's what I wrote about the awesome, life-changing power of One Phone Call…

If you have a steady job, you may want to skip this. It's directed to many friends, acquaintances and total strangers who never have jobs that are all that steady: Writers, artists, actors and various other freelancers who think it's a big deal if they get something that pays them for six months or a year…or who even subsist on a string of one-shot gigs.

It's been a rough couple of years and no one's forecasting a huge change in this one. Our unemployment level is impossible to chart but (obviously) way too high. I can't remember a time of so many calls and e-mails that include the phrase, "Please, if you hear of anything…" The answer, alas, is that I rarely hear of anything.

So what can we tell these folks? The first thing to remember is that there are two kinds of problems in this world. You might be unfortunate enough to have both kinds at once but you should never forget that there are two kinds — the ones that can be largely solved by One Phone Call and the ones that can't. "I don't have a job" can be solved with One Phone Call. Someone calls up and hires you. That happens all the time…admittedly, not as often or as perfectly timed as you would like but it certainly happens and if it's the right One Phone Call, the problem disappears in its entirety. Gone. Evaporated. A distant memory. Congrats.

The other kind of problem is the kind that can't be solved by One Phone Call. Being very ill would probably be the most obvious example but it can also be a relationship problem that isn't going to get better and we can all imagine plenty of other situations. I have a friend who has severe Fibromyalgia. No One Phone Call is going to make that go away.

People keep plunging themselves into depression and despair because they mistake the first kind of problem for the second kind. Neither is fun and I'm not suggesting the second kind is necessarily hopeless. I know plenty of folks who've recovered from pretty severe disasters. I just think it's valuable to distinguish between them and to not overdramatize the former into the latter. I don't know how many times a friend has called on Monday, wailing about unemployment and speaking in the bleakest, most depressing terms. And then on Tuesday, they get that One Phone Call.

It doesn't always happen that neatly. But it does happen.

When it doesn't happen, that may be because of simple numbers. It's sometimes the case that the talent pool is too large for the marketplace. Back in the eighties in the animation business, there was a period when there were 25 cartoon series in production in Los Angeles, many of them Monday-Friday shows that required 65 episodes to fill out a season. That meant a great demand for scripts and a lot of people who hadn't been animation writers before suddenly became animation writers. Dozens of 'em.

Then only two or three years later, there was a downswing in production and the business was down to (I think) 16 series, mostly Saturday-only shows that produced but 13 episodes a year. I may have the precise numbers wrong but it was something like a 70% drop in the quantity of scripts that were needed.

There was not, however, a 70% drop in the number of animation writers looking for work. Some got out (mostly those who were never fully in) but not enough for there not to be a lot of frustrated folks asking themselves, "What happened? I had plenty of work last year…and this year, I can't get anything." That can be jarring, especially when you plan your life on the assumption that this year's income will approximate last year's income.

I had friends who lost homes or had to move to cheaper apartments or otherwise downsize their lives. Many punished themselves and agonized, wondering as many creative folks do at times and especially lately, "What am I doing wrong?" There are four possible answers to that question…

1. Some people are not as good as others, at least in the eyes of those who do the hiring and buying. That is not always the same thing as just being good since sometimes, those who hire and buy have odd tastes and whims. The kind of jobs I'm talking about here — writing, drawing, even acting — are meritocracy jobs. You get one because someone thinks you're the best available person to fill some need they have. So you might not be getting hired because what you do just doesn't coincide with the tastes and judgment calls of those who make the selections and that might be (just might be) because you're not that good. If you've had some success in the past, it's probably the former of those two options. But the latter is always possible.
2. Some people are not as well-known to those who make the selections as they could be. You might be doing something wrong in that you're not known by those who can pick you…though I don't think that's the problem as often as some think it is. There's a tendency to think, "Well, if they don't know how good I am, they must not have seen my work." That's easier to believe than, "They have but they weren't impressed." Still, it's at least possible that you need to do something to cut yourself away from the herd and not just be one more entrant in the cattle call or slush pile of submissions from whence few emerge. (I should also add that I've seen people — actors, especially — unsell themselves by being too pushy, too arrogant or, most often, too desperate. A casting director once said to me, "Anyone who feels they have to tell you how good they are probably isn't very.")
3. Sometimes, it's just casting. Actors especially know this. You're a tall white guy and all the jobs this week are for short black women. You can try everything within your power but you're still going to be a tall white guy. It works that way with writers and artists, too. Editors may think you're good but they think you're good at film noir drama and this week, they need folks who can handle funny talking poodles. It may or may not be possible for you to diversify…though that's at least easier for you than it is for the tall white guy to become a short black woman.
4. And lastly, it may just be the numbers. This is the most likely thing you're doing wrong. You're one of fifty people competing for ten jobs. No matter how wisely the selectors select…no matter how they pick or choose or flip a coin, forty people ain't getting hired. On an individual basis, you might think, "Well, why can't I be one of the ten?" There are times when you are, just as there are times in Blackjack when the dealer deals you a 10 and an Ace. But imagine a gambler who then asks, "Well, why can't I always get a 10 and an Ace?" Because you can't, that's why. The numbers don't work like that.

What you're doing wrong in at least the last two situations is that you're not diversifying enough. The marketplace is ever-changing. When I got into TV writing, I met a lot of unemployed guys who'd written Banacek-style cop shows and variety programs. Those guys either diversified or they didn't work…and amazingly, some of them stubbornly chose to not work. They'd actually say things like, "Hey, I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm doing the same thing I did ten years ago when I was working constantly." It was like the business was out of sync with them, not the other way around.

Some though knew enough to write other kinds of TV or to pursue novels or comic books or journalism or even to get out of writing completely. One I know became a top film editor. Even if what you do is still commercial, you should have other outlets for when one contracts…because they all do at some point. And the time to think about what else you might do is before that happens…because it's always easier to break into a new area when you can do it at a proper pace and not out of desperation.

I know a lot of talented people. I do not know anyone who is good at one thing who can't do anything but that one thing. A good actor may also be a good director. A good artist may also be a good writer. A good comedy writer may also be a good mystery novelist. Instead of asking yourself, "What am I doing wrong?" maybe you oughta be asking, "What else would I be happy doing?" I'll bet there's something and it may not be a huge career change. It might be as modest as writing for a younger audience or in the case of actors, accepting the reality that maybe you're getting a bit too old to go out on a casting call for "college age types."

Also, New Media is creating a lot of new job descriptions that weren't there for you to contemplate when you decided what you wanted to be when you grew up. I've actually turned down offers (admittedly for rotten money) to be a professional blogger. That's not a career path I considered when I was in high school but someday soon, it might be viable.

But for crying out loud, don't sit around and cry out loud and wait for the business to revert back to the way it was when you had all that work ten years ago. The odds are that it won't. If nothing else, think of it this way: The more different things you do, the more people might want to work with you. And the more people want to work with you, the better your odds are of getting that One Phone Call. Because if you're out of work and all your problems in life flow from that, your situation isn't as hopeless as it might feel. You just need to get that One Phone Call.

“They have treated the wound of my people carelessly, saying ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace.”
– Jeremiah 6:14 (and also Jeremiah 8:11)

Here’s a five-sentence puff piece about the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, touting its recent ministry in Ferguson, Missouri — “Billy Graham Evangelical Response Team Helping Restore Peace in Ferguson“:

Dozens of North Carolinians are helping to restore the peace in Ferguson, Missouri.

The Billy Graham Evangelical Association’s rapid response team headed straight into the middle of riots and violence last month, just days after the controversial grand jury decision was made in the Michael Brown case.

However instead of being met with hostility they were welcomed into the community.

“From the law enforcement community to the inner city, all components of the community are very supportive that we’re here,” said Jack Munday, international director of the team.

He says through their work, they are beginning to see the community heal.

At best, that is ineptly worded and tone-deaf. And I suppose the worst of that might be the work of the “Time-Warner Cable News” reporter, and not the fault of the Graham people themselves.

But I fear that it’s as bad as it looks — that the awful language used by the reporter here, and the clueless framing of this horrifically misguided effort, may have originated with the BGEA team and not just been mistranslated by the TWC writer transposing their press release into a “news report.”

Let’s take this piece by piece. First there’s the absurdity of the assertion in the headline, repeated in the first sentence, that “restoring the peace” in Ferguson is a meaningful statement, or that any meaning it might have might be something good.

When protesters in Ferguson or elsewhere chant “No justice, no peace,” they aren’t just repeating a catchy slogan. They’re stating a tautology. They’re reciting a law of the universe. It’s no different than if they were chanting “F = ma!” It’s simply a fact: In the absence of justice, there can be no such thing as peace.

Yet the Billy Graham team seems to think that peace is something that can be “restored” in Ferguson. They seem to think that “peace” is somehow an accurate description of Ferguson, Missouri, before the protests began. They seem to be so thick-headed and thick-hearted that they think the people’s response to the violence and injustice done against them is somehow the reason Ferguson lacks “peace.”

That would be an epic level of obtuseness, but I think even that is an overly optimistic assessment of what this “rapid response team” is really doing. They don’t seem to be nearly that innocent. Not when you consider the weird nastiness of the next bit in this story, when we’re told that the BGEA team “headed straight into the middle of riots and violence.”

That, apparently, is all they could see when witnessing thousands of marchers singing and praying and standing with their hands raised in the air. It takes an incredibly powerful predisposition to witness thousands of people with their hands in the air — people loudly chanting “Hands up, don’t shoot!” — and to see only “riots and violence.”

The BGEA apparently headed to Ferguson wearing their Wilson-Vision Glasses — those special specs that prevent you from seeing anything other than violent demons who threaten your safety whenever you turn to look at black people.

I suppose, in their defense, that the BGEA folks are more interested here in striking a “courageous” pose that will allow them to congratulate themselves on their fearlessness. They’re only emphasizing the inherent menace of black people in order to highlight their own supposed bravery in “heading straight into the middle” of every white racist’s nightmare. But in service of puffing themselves up, they’re all too willing and eager to reinforce the lethal libels that portray black neighborhoods as “dangerous” places filled with dangerous (sub-)people.

And just look at how the next bit in the story reinforces that further: “However instead of being met with hostility they were welcomed.”

Ooh! It’s just like Daniel in the frickin’ lion’s den! God miraculously protected his anointed even there in the “inner city.”

Everything about this story is premised on the idea that black people and black communities are inherently dangerous — a threat. Even when the reality of those people and communities explodes that fearful, prejudiced stereotype, it gets twisted into a weird affirmation of the premise. So the rapid response team shows up in Ferguson expecting a hostile warzone filled with angry rioters and looters chanting “Kill whitey!” Yet they encounter, instead, a hospitable community of normal human beings, saddened by loss, yet resolute. But this clear evidence doesn’t cause any re-evaluation of their original preconceptions about black people and black neighborhoods – instead it’s spun into evidence about the extraordinary bridge-building power of the BGEA’s spiritual message.

And, you see, it’s because of that — because of this extraordinary capacity of these ministers to overcome even the threatening hostility and inherent dangerousness of black people — that the BGEA wants its audience of white Christians to know that there’s hope to “restore peace” in Ferguson. They can help the community “heal” by convincing the scary people to settle down and to quiet down and to go back to peacefully accepting the status quo that preceded all of this recent unpleasantness.

They’ve done this before, you know. They’ve done this for decades. And they believe they can do it again this time around.

Look, I generally like the idea of Graham’s “rapid response teams.” They were designed to be a kind of chaplaincy flying squad, a group that has been constructively “deployed” to minister to communities in the aftermath of hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, and other natural disasters. Pastoral care can be a meaningful, vital help to people who are suffering.

But what’s happening in Ferguson isn’t a natural disaster. Thousands of people in the streets affirming that “Black Lives Matter” isn’t a disaster at all — it’s God’s work. And it seems like the mission of the BGEA response team in Ferguson is to shut down God’s work — to quench the spirit.

That’s not pastoral care. That’s false prophecy.

Note that Billy Graham’s people didn’t decide to go to Ferguson on their own. They were invited there by members of the Ferguson police department. According to the BGEA itself, the purpose of the trip was “to minister to police.”

That is what this team means by “restoring the peace.” They’re there to help Ferguson police regain their peace of mind. They’re there to help the Ferguson police “restore peace” by getting all those uppity protesters to settle down and go back to accepting the status quo in which everyone knows and keeps their place.

The Billy Graham Evangelistic Association rapid response team, in other words, was brought to Ferguson as a tool to supplement the work already being done with tear gas, rubber bullets, and a kangaroo-court parody of a grand jury put forth as the substitute for a fair trial.

They were brought in not to serve as chaplains, but as court prophets who would say “Peace, peace,” when there is no peace.

We’ve already seen what Jeremiah had to say about that message and that form of ministry. Here’s what Ezekiel says about it:

“Because they lead my people astray, saying, ‘Peace,’ when there is no peace, and because, when a flimsy wall is built, they cover it with whitewash, therefore tell those who cover it with whitewash that it is going to fall. Rain will come in torrents, and I will send hailstones hurtling down, and violent winds will burst forth. When the wall collapses, will people not ask you, ‘Where is the whitewash you covered it with?’”

Therefore this is what the Sovereign Lord says: “In my wrath I will unleash a violent wind, and in my anger hailstones and torrents of rain will fall with destructive fury. I will tear down the wall you have covered with whitewash and will level it to the ground so that its foundation will be laid bare. When it falls, you will be destroyed in it; and you will know that I am the Lord. So I will pour out my wrath against the wall and against those who covered it with whitewash. I will say to you, ‘The wall is gone and so are those who whitewashed it, those prophets of Israel who prophesied to Jerusalem and saw visions of peace for her when there was no peace, declares the Sovereign Lord.’”

Fourteen years ago, at a time when most folks (including me) had never heard the term "blogging," I began blogging. I thought it would be a post or three a week but once I got going, I discovered I liked the forum and the feedback too much to not do more. In case anyone's interested, there are now 20,922 posts on this site, counting this one. I've made some great friends and a few enemies and, yes, I still enjoy doing it.

In order to celebrate, I'm going to spend the rest of this year re-posting some of the most popular postings of years past, starting with the most-read piece I've ever put up here. It also holds the record for the post that has most often been stolen by other people who put it up on their blogs, often making it sound like what happened to me had actually happened to them. This was a column I wrote for the Comics Buyers Guide in 1999 — the story of my holiday encounter with Mel Tormé —

I want to tell you a story…

The scene is Farmers Market — the famed tourist mecca of Los Angeles. It's located but yards from the facility they call, "CBS Television City in Hollywood"…which, of course, is not in Hollywood but at least is very close.

Farmers Market is a quaint collection of bungalow stores, produce stalls and little stands where one can buy darn near anything edible one wishes to devour. You buy your pizza slice or sandwich or Chinese food or whatever at one of umpteen counters, then carry it on a tray to an open-air table for consumption.

During the Summer or on weekends, the place is full of families and tourists and Japanese tour groups. But this was a winter weekday, not long before Christmas, and the crowd was mostly older folks, dawdling over coffee and danish. For most of them, it's a good place to get a donut or a taco, to sit and read the paper.

For me, it's a good place to get out of the house and grab something to eat. I arrived, headed for my favorite barbecue stand and, en route, noticed that Mel Tormé was seated at one of the tables.

Mel Tormé. My favorite singer. Just sitting there, sipping a cup of coffee, munching on an English Muffin, reading The New York Times. Mel Tormé.

I had never met Mel Tormé. Alas, I still haven't and now I never will. He looked like he was engrossed in the paper that day so I didn't stop and say, "Excuse me, I just wanted to tell you how much I've enjoyed all your records." I wish I had.

Instead, I continued over to the BBQ place, got myself a chicken sandwich and settled down at a table to consume it. I was about halfway through when four Christmas carolers strolled by, singing "Let It Snow," a cappella.

They were young adults with strong, fine voices and they were all clad in splendid Victorian garb. The Market had hired them (I assume) to stroll about and sing for the diners — a little touch of the holidays.

"Let It Snow" concluded not far from me to polite applause from all within earshot. I waved the leader of the chorale over and directed his attention to Mr. Tormé, seated about twenty yards from me.

"That's Mel Tormé down there. Do you know who he is?"

The singer was about 25 so it didn't horrify me that he said, "No."

I asked, "Do you know 'The Christmas Song?'"

Again, a "No."

I said, "That's the one that starts, 'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…'"

"Oh, yes," the caroler chirped. "Is that what it's called? 'The Christmas Song?'"

"That's the name," I explained. "And that man wrote it." The singer thanked me, returned to his group for a brief huddle…and then they strolled down towards Mel Tormé. I ditched the rest of my sandwich and followed, a few steps behind. As they reached their quarry, they began singing, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…" directly to him.

A big smile formed on Mel Tormé's face — and it wasn't the only one around. Most of those sitting at nearby tables knew who he was and many seemed aware of the significance of singing that song to him. For those who didn't, there was a sudden flurry of whispers: "That's Mel Tormé…he wrote that…"

As the choir reached the last chorus or two of the song, Mel got to his feet and made a little gesture that meant, "Let me sing one chorus solo." The carolers — all still apparently unaware they were in the presence of one of the world's great singers — looked a bit uncomfortable. I'd bet at least a couple were thinking, "Oh, no…the little fat guy wants to sing."

But they stopped and the little fat guy started to sing…and, of course, out came this beautiful, melodic, perfectly-on-pitch voice. The look on the face of the singer I'd briefed was amazed at first…then properly impressed.

On Mr. Tormé's signal, they all joined in on the final lines: "Although it's been said, many times, many ways…Merry Christmas to you…" Big smiles all around.

And not just from them. I looked and at all the tables surrounding the impromptu performance, I saw huge grins of delight…which segued, as the song ended, into a huge burst of applause. The whole tune only lasted about two minutes but I doubt anyone who was there will ever forget it.

I have witnessed a number of thrilling "show business" moments — those incidents, far and few between, where all the little hairs on your epidermis snap to attention and tingle with joy. Usually, these occur on a screen or stage. I hadn't expected to experience one next to a falafel stand — but I did.

Tormé thanked the harmonizers for the serenade and one of the women said, "You really wrote that?"

He nodded. "A wonderful songwriter named Bob Wells and I wrote that…and, get this — we did it on the hottest day of the year in July. It was a way to cool down."

Then the gent I'd briefed said, "You know, you're not a bad singer." He actually said that to Mel Tormé.

Mel chuckled. He realized that these four young folks hadn't the velvet-foggiest notion who he was, above and beyond the fact that he'd worked on that classic carol. "Well," he said. "I've actually made a few records in my day…"

"Really?" the other man asked. "How many?"

Tormé smiled and said, "Ninety."

---

I probably own about half of them on vinyl and/or CD. For some reason, they sound better on vinyl. (My favorite was the album he made with Buddy Rich. Go ahead. Find me a better parlay of singer and drummer. I'll wait.)

Today, as I'm reading obits, I'm reminded of that moment. And I'm impressed to remember that Mel Tormé was also an accomplished author and actor. Mostly though, I'm recalling that pre-Christmas afternoon.

I love people who do something so well that you can't conceive of it being done better. Doesn't even have to be something important: Singing, dancing, plate-spinning, mooning your neighbor's cat, whatever. There is a certain beauty to doing almost anything to perfection.

No recording exists of that chorus that Mel Tormé sang for the other diners at Farmers Market but if you never believe another word I write, trust me on this. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Fundamental plot arcs, seen through multidimensional analysis of thousands of TV and movie scripts.

“Nobody makes an IRC channel for no reason. Who are we doing this versus?”
— topic of #slatestarcodex

I.

Some old news I only just heard about: PETA is offering to pay the water bills for needy Detroit families if (and only if) those families agree to stop eating meat.

(this story makes more sense if you know Detroit is in a crisis where the bankrupt city government is trying to increase revenues by cracking down on poor people who can’t pay for the water they use.)

Predictably, the move has caused a backlash. The International Business Times, in what I can only assume is an attempted pun, describes them as “drowning in backlash”. Groundswell thinks it’s a “big blunder”. Daily Banter says it’s “exactly why everyone hates PETA”. Jezebel calls them “assholes”, and we can all agree Jezebel knows a thing or two about assholery.

Of course, this is par for the course for PETA, who have previously engaged in campaigns like throwing red paint on fashion models who wear fur, juxtaposing pictures of animals with Holocaust victims, juxtaposing pictures of animals with African-American slaves, and ads featuring naked people that cross the line into pornography.

People call these things “blunders”, but consider the alternative. Vegan Outreach is an extremely responsible charity doing excellent and unimpeachable work in the same area PETA is. Nobody has heard of them. Everybody has heard of PETA, precisely because of the interminable stupid debates about “did this publicity stunt cross the line?”

While not everyone is a vegan, pretty much everybody who knows anything about factory farming is upset by it. There is pretty much zero room for PETA to convert people from pro-factory-farming to anti-factory-farming, because there aren’t any radical grassroot pro-factory-farming activists to be found. Their problem isn’t lack of agreement. It’s lack of publicity.

PETA creates publicity, but at a cost. Everybody’s talking about PETA, which is sort of like everybody talking about ethical treatment of animals, which is sort of a victory. But most of the talk is “I hate them and they make me really angry.” Some of the talk is even “I am going to eat a lot more animals just to make PETA mad.”

So there’s a tradeoff here, with Vegan Outreach on one side and PETA on the other.

Vegan Outreach can get everyone to agree in principle that factory-farming is bad, but no one will pay any attention to it.

And PETA can get everyone to pay attention to factory farming, but a lot of people who would otherwise oppose it will switch to supporting it just because they’re so mad at the way it’s being publicized.

But at least they’re paying attention!

PETA doesn’t shoot themselves in the foot because they’re stupid. They shoot themselves in the foot because they’re traveling up an incentive gradient that rewards them for doing so, even if it destroys their credibility.

II.

The University of Virginia rape case profiled in Rolling Stone has fallen apart. In doing so, it joins a long and distinguished line of highly-publicized rape cases that have fallen apart. Studies often show that only 2 to 8 percent of rape allegations are false. Yet the rate for allegations that go ultra-viral in the media must be an order of magnitude higher than this. As the old saying goes, once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action.

The enigma is complicated by the observation that it’s usually feminist activists who are most instrumental in taking these stories viral. It’s not some conspiracy of pro-rape journalists choosing the most dubious accusations in order to discredit public trust. It’s people specifically selecting these incidents as flagship cases for their campaign that rape victims need to be believed and trusted. So why are the most publicized cases so much more likely to be false than the almost-always-true average case?

Several people have remarked that false accusers have more leeway to make their stories as outrageous and spectacular as possible. But I want to focus on two less frequently mentioned concerns.

The Consequentialism FAQ explains signaling in moral decisions like so:

When signaling, the more expensive and useless the item is, the more effective it is as a signal. Although eyeglasses are expensive, they’re a poor way to signal wealth because they’re very useful; a person might get them not because ey is very rich but because ey really needs glasses. On the other hand, a large diamond is an excellent signal; no one needs a large diamond, so anybody who gets one anyway must have money to burn.

Certain answers to moral dilemmas can also send signals. For example, a Catholic man who opposes the use of condoms demonstrates to others (and to himself!) how faithful and pious a Catholic he is, thus gaining social credibility. Like the diamond example, this signaling is more effective if it centers upon something otherwise useless. If the Catholic had merely chosen not to murder, then even though this is in accord with Catholic doctrine, it would make a poor signal because he might be doing it for other good reasons besides being Catholic – just as he might buy eyeglasses for reasons beside being rich. It is precisely because opposing condoms is such a horrendous decision that it makes such a good signal.

But in the more general case, people can use moral decisions to signal how moral they are. In this case, they choose a disastrous decision based on some moral principle. The more suffering and destruction they support, and the more obscure a principle it is, the more obviously it shows their commitment to following their moral principles absolutely. For example, Immanuel Kant claims that if an axe murderer asks you where your best friend is, obviously intending to murder her when he finds her, you should tell the axe murderer the full truth, because lying is wrong. This is effective at showing how moral a person you are – no one would ever doubt your commitment to honesty after that – but it’s sure not a very good result for your friend.

In the same way, publicizing how strongly you believe an accusation that is obviously true signals nothing. Even hard-core anti-feminists would believe a rape accusation that was caught on video. A moral action that can be taken just as well by an outgroup member as an ingroup member is crappy signaling and crappy identity politics. If you want to signal how strongly you believe in taking victims seriously, you talk about it in the context of the least credible case you can find.

But aside from that, there’s the PETA Principle (not to be confused with the Peter Principle). The more controversial something is, the more it gets talked about.

A rape that obviously happened? Shove it in people’s face and they’ll admit it’s an outrage, just as they’ll admit factory farming is an outrage. But they’re not going to talk about it much. There are a zillion outrages every day, you’re going to need something like that to draw people out of their shells.

On the other hand, the controversy over dubious rape allegations is exactly that – a controversy. People start screaming at each other about how they’re misogynist or misandrist or whatever, and Facebook feeds get filled up with hundreds of comments in all capital letters about how my ingroup is being persecuted by your ingroup. At each step, more and more people get triggered and upset. Some of those triggered people do emergency ego defense by reblogging articles about how the group that triggered them are terrible, triggering further people in a snowball effect that spreads the issue further with every iteration.

[source]

Only controversial things get spread. A rape allegation will only be spread if it’s dubious enough to split people in half along lines corresponding to identity politics. An obviously true rape allegation will only be spread if the response is controversial enough to split people in half along lines corresponding to identity politics – which is why so much coverage focuses on the proposal that all accused rapists should be treated as guilty until proven innocent.

Everybody hates rape just like everybody hates factory farming. “Rape culture” doesn’t mean most people like rape, it means most people ignore it. That means feminists face the same double-bind that PETA does.

First, they can respond to rape in a restrained and responsible way, in which case everyone will be against it and nobody will talk about it.

Second, they can respond to rape in an outrageous and highly controversial way, in which case everybody will talk about it but it will autocatalyze an opposition of people who hate feminists and obsessively try to prove that as many rape allegations as possible are false.

The other day I saw this on Twitter:

So as I understand it, Atticus Finch is now the bad guy in "To Kill A Mockingbird," because he doubted a story about rape.

— Instapundit.com (@instapundit) December 2, 2014

My first thought was that it was witty and hilarious. My second thought was “But when people are competing to see who can come up with the wittiest and most hilarious quip about why we should disbelieve rape victims, something has gone horribly wrong.” My third thought was the same as my second thought, but in ALL CAPS, because at that point I had read the replies at the bottom.

I have yet to see anyone holding a cardboard sign talking about how they are going to rape people just to make feminists mad, but it’s only a matter of time. Like PETA, their incentive gradient dooms them to shoot themselves in the foot again and again.

III.

Slate recently published an article about white people’s contrasting reactions to the Michael Brown shooting in Ferguson versus the Eric Garner choking in NYC. And man, it is some contrast.

A Pew poll found that of white people who expressed an opinion about the Ferguson case, 73% sided with the officer. Of white people who expressed an opinion about the Eric Garner case, 63% sided with the black victim.

Media opinion follows much the same pattern. Arch-conservative Bill O’Reilly said he was “absolutely furious” about the way “the liberal media” and “race hustlers” had “twisted the story” about Ferguson in the service of “lynch mob justice” and “insulting the American police community, men and women risking their lives to protect us”. But when it came to Garner, O’Reilly said he was “extremely troubled” and that “there was a police overreaction that should have been adjudicated in a court of law.” His guest on FOX News, conservative commentator and fellow Ferguson-detractor Charles Krauthammer added that “From looking at the video, the grand jury’s decision [not to indict] is totally incomprehensible.” Saturday Night Live did a skit about Al Sharpton talking about the Garner case and getting increasingly upset because “For the first time in my life, everyone agrees with me.”

This follows about three months of most of America being at one another’s throats pretty much full-time about Ferguson. We got treated to a daily diet of articles like Ferguson Protester On White People: “Y’all The Devil” or Black People Had The Power To Fix The Problems In Ferguson Before The Brown Shooting – They Failed or Most White People In America Are Completely Oblivious and a whole bunch of people sending angry racist editorials and counter-editorials to each other for months. The damage done to race relations is difficult to overestimate – CBS reports that they dropped ten percentage points to the lowest point in twenty years, with over half of blacks now describing race relations as “bad”.

And people say it was all worth it, because it raised awareness of police brutality against black people, and if that rustles some people’s jimmies, well, all the worse for them.

But the Eric Garner case also would have raised awareness of police brutality against black people, and everybody would have agreed about it. It has become increasingly clear that, given sufficiently indisputable evidence of police being brutal to a black person, pretty much everyone in the world condemns it equally strongly.

And it’s not just that the Eric Garner case came around too late so we had to make do with the Mike Brown case. Garner was choked a month before Brown was shot, but the story was ignored, then dug back up later as a tie-in to the ballooning Ferguson narrative.

More important, unarmed black people are killed by police or other security officers about twice a week according to official statistics, and probably much more often than that. You’re saying none of these shootings, hundreds each year, made as good a flagship case as Michael Brown? In all this gigantic pile of bodies, you couldn’t find one of them who hadn’t just robbed a convenience store? Not a single one who didn’t have ten eyewitnesses and the forensic evidence all saying he started it?

I propose that the Michael Brown case went viral – rather than the Eric Garner case or any of the hundreds of others – because of the PETA Principle. It was controversial. A bunch of people said it was an outrage. A bunch of other people said Brown totally started it, and the officer involved was a victim of a liberal media that was hungry to paint his desperate self-defense as racist, and so the people calling it an outrage were themselves an outrage. Everyone got a great opportunity to signal allegiance to their own political tribe and discuss how the opposing political tribe were vile racists / evil race-hustlers. There was a steady stream of potentially triggering articles to share on Facebook to provoke your friends and enemies to counter-share articles that would trigger you.

The Ferguson protesters say they have a concrete policy proposal – they want cameras on police officers. There’s only spotty polling on public views of police body cameras before the Ferguson story took off, but what there is seems pretty unaninimous. A UK poll showed that 90% of the population of that country wanted police to have body cameras in February. US polls are more of the form “crappy poll widget on a news site” (1, 2, 3) but they all hovered around 80% approval for the past few years. I also found a poll by Police Magazine in which a plurality of the police officers they surveyed wanted to wear body cameras, probably because of evidence that they cut down on false accusations. Even before Ferguson happened, you would have a really hard time finding anybody in or out of uniform who thought police cameras were a bad idea.

And now, after all is said and done, ninety percent of people are still in favor – given methodology issues, the extra ten percent may or may not represent a real increase. The difference between whites and blacks is a rounding error. The difference between Democrats and Republicans is barely worth talking about- 79% of Republicans are still in support. The people who think Officer Darren Wilson is completely innocent and the grand jury was right to release him, the people muttering under their breath about race hustlers and looters – eighty percent of those people still want cameras on their cops.

If the Ferguson protests didn’t do much to the public’s views on police body cameras, they sure changed its views on some other things. I wrote before about how preliminary polls say that hearing about Ferguson increased white people’s confidence in the way the police treat race. Now the less preliminary polls are out, and they show the effect was larger than even I expected.

[source]

White people’s confidence in the police being racially unbiased increased from 35% before the story took off to 52% today. Could even a deliberate PR campaign by the nation’s police forces have done better? I doubt it.

It’s possible that this is an artifact of the question’s wording – after all, it asks people about their local department, and maybe after seeing what happened in Ferguson, people’s local police forces look pretty good by comparison. But then why do black people show the opposite trend?

I think this is exactly what it looks like. Just as PETA’s outrageous controversial campaign to spread veganism make people want to eat more animals in order to spite them, so the controversial nature of this particular campaign against police brutality and racism made white people like their local police department even more to spite the people talking about how all whites were racist.

Once again, the tradeoff.

If campaigners against police brutality and racism were extremely responsible, and stuck to perfectly settled cases like Eric Garner, everybody would agree with them but nobody would talk about it.

If instead they bring up a very controversial case like Michael Brown, everybody will talk about it, but they will catalyze their own opposition and make people start supporting the police more just to spite them. More foot-shooting.

IV.

Here is a graph of some of the tags I commonly use for my posts, with the average number of hits per post in each tag. It’s old, but I don’t want to go through the trouble of making a new one, and the trends have stayed the same since then.

I blog about charity only rarely, but it must be the most important thing I can write about here. Convincing even a few more people to donate to charity, or to redirect their existing donations to a more effective program, can literally save dozens or even hundreds of lives even with the limited reach that a private blog has. It probably does more good for the world than all of the other categories on here combined. But it’s completely uncontroversial – everyone agrees it’s a good thing – and it is the least viewed type of post.

Compare this to the three most viewed category of post. Politics is self-explanatory. Race and gender are a type of politics even more controversial and outrage-inducing than regular politics. And that “regret” all the way on the right is my “things i will regret writing” tag, for posts that I know are going to start huge fights and probably get me in lots of trouble. They’re usually race and gender as well, but digging deep into the really really controversial race and gender related issues.

The less useful, and more controversial, a post here is, the more likely it is to get me lots of page views.

For people who agree with me, my angry rants on identity politics are a form of ego defense, saying “You’re okay, your in-group was in the right the whole time.” Linking to it both raises their status as an in-group members, and acts as a potential assault on out-group members who are now faced with strong arguments telling them they’re wrong.

As for the people who disagree with me, they’ll sometimes write angry rebuttals on their own blogs, and those rebuttals will link to my own post as often as not. Or they’ll talk about it with their disagreeing friends, and their friends will get mad and want to tell me I’m wrong, and come over here to read the post to get more ammunition for their counterarguments. I have a feature that allows me to see who links to all of my posts, so I can see this all happening in real-time.

I don’t make enough money off the ads on this blog to matter very much. But if I did, and this was my only means of subsistence, which do you think I’d write more of? Posts about charity which only get me 2,000 paying customers? Or posts that turn all of you against one another like a pack of rabid dogs, and get me 16,000?

I don’t have a fancy bar graph for them, but I bet this same hierarchy of interestingness applies to the great information currents and media outlets that shape society as a whole.

It’s in activists’ interests to destroy their own causes by focusing on the most controversial cases and principles, the ones that muddy the waters and make people oppose them out of spite. And it’s in the media’s interest to help them and egg them on.

V.

And now, for something completely different.

Before “meme” meant doge and all your base, it was a semi-serious attempt to ground cultural evolution in parasitology. The idea was to replace a model of humans choosing whichever ideas they liked with a model of ideas as parasites that evolved in ways that favored their own transmission. This never really caught on, because most people’s response was “That’s neat. So what?”

But let’s talk about toxoplasma.

Toxoplasma is a neat little parasite that is implicated in a couple of human diseases including schizophrenia. Its life cycle goes like this: it starts in a cat. The cat poops it out. The poop and the toxoplasma get in the water supply, where they are consumed by some other animal, often a rat. The toxoplasma morphs into a rat-compatible form and starts reproducing. Once it has strength in numbers, it hijacks the rat’s brain, convincing the rat to hang out conspicuously in areas where cats can eat it. After a cat eats the rat, the toxoplasma morphs back into its cat compatible form and reproduces some more. Finally, it gets pooped back out by the cat, completing the cycle.

It’s the ciiiiiircle of life!

What would it mean for a meme to have a life cycle as complicated as toxoplasma?

Consider the war on terror. It’s a truism that each time the United States bombs Pakistan or Afghanistan or somewhere, all we’re doing is radicalizing the young people there and making more terrorists. Those terrorists then go on to kill Americans, which makes Americans get very angry and call for more bombing of Pakistan and Afghanistan.

Taken as a meme, it is a single parasite with two hosts and two forms. In an Afghan host, it appears in a form called ‘jihad’, and hijacks its host into killing himself in order to spread it to its second, American host. In the American host it morphs in a form called ‘the war on terror’, and it hijacks the Americans into giving their own lives (and several bajillion of their tax dollars) to spread it back to its Afghan host in the form of bombs.

From the human point of view, jihad and the War on Terror are opposing forces. From the memetic point of view, they’re as complementary as caterpillars and butterflies. Instead of judging, we just note that somehow we accidentally created a replicator, and replicators are going to replicate until something makes them stop.

Replicators are also going to evolve. Some Afghan who thinks up a particularly effective terrorist strategy helps the meme spread to more Americans as the resulting outrage fuels the War on Terror. When the American bombing heats up, all of the Afghan villagers radicalized in by the attack will remember the really effective new tactic that Khalid thought up and do that one instead of the boring old tactic that barely killed any Americans at all. Some American TV commentator who comes up with a particularly stirring call to retaliation will find her words adopted into party platforms and repeated by pro-war newspapers. While pacifists on both sides work to defuse the tension, the meme is engaging in a counter-effort to become as virulent as possible, until people start suggesting putting pork fat in American bombs just to make Muslims even madder.

So let’s talk about Tumblr.

Tumblr’s interface doesn’t allow you to comment on other people’s posts, per se. Instead, it lets you reblog them with your own commentary added. So if you want to tell someone they’re an idiot, your only option is to reblog their entire post to all your friends with the message “you are an idiot” below it.

Whoever invented this system either didn’t understand memetics, or understood memetics much too well.

What happens is – someone makes a statement which is controversial by Tumblr standards, like “Protect Doctor Who fans from kitten pic sharers at all costs.” A kitten pic sharer sees the statement, sees red, and reblogs it to her followers with a series of invectives against Doctor Who fans. Since kitten pic sharers cluster together in the social network, soon every kitten pic sharer has seen the insult against kitten pic sharer – as they all feel the need to add their defensive commentary to it, soon all of them are seeing it from ten different directions. The angry invectives get back to the Doctor Who fans, and now they feel deeply offended, so they reblog it among themselves with even more condemnations of the kitten pic sharers, who now not only did whatever inspired the enmity in the first place, but have inspired extra hostility because their hateful invectives are right there on the post for everyone to see. So about half the stuff on your dashboard is something you actually want to see, and the other half is towers of alternate insults that look like this:

Actually, pretty much this happened to the PETA story I started off with

And then you sigh and scroll down to the next one. Unless of course you are a Doctor Who fan, in which case you sigh and then immediately reblog with the comment “It’s obvious you guys started ganging up against us first, don’t try to accuse **US** now” because you can’t just let that accusation stand.

I make fun of Tumblr social justice sometimes, but the problem isn’t with Tumblr social justice, it’s structural. Every community on Tumblr somehow gets enmeshed with the people most devoted to making that community miserable. The tiny Tumblr rationalist community somehow attracts, concentrates, and constantly reblogs stuff from the even tinier Tumblr community of people who hate rationalists and want them to be miserable (no, well-intentioned and intelligent critics, I am not talking about you). It’s like one of those rainforest ecosystems where every variety of rare endangered nocturnal spider hosts a parasite who has evolved for millions of years solely to parasitize that one spider species, and the parasites host parasites who have evolved for millions of years solely to parasitize them. If Tumblr social justice is worse than anything else, it’s mostly because everyone has a race and a gender so it’s easier to fire broad cannonades and just hit everybody.

Tumblr’s reblog policy makes it a hothouse for toxoplasma-style memes that spread via outrage. Following the ancient imperative of evolution, if memes spread by outrage they adapt to become as outrage-inducing as possible.

Or rather, that is just one of their many adaptations. I realize this toxoplasma metaphor sort of strains credibility, so I want to anchor this idea of outrage-memes in pretty much the only piece of memetics everyone can agree upon.

The textbook example of a meme – indeed, almost the only example ever discussed – is the chain letter. “Send this letter to ten people and you will prosper. Fail to pass it on, and you will die tomorrow.” And so the letter replicates.

It might be useful evidence that we were on the right track here, with our toxoplasma memes and everything, if we could find evidence that they reproduced in the same way.

If you’re not on Tumblr, you might have missed the “everyone who does not reblog the issue du jour is trash” wars. For a few weeks around the height of the Ferguson discussion, people constantly called out one another for not reblogging enough Ferguson-related material, or (Heavens forbid) saying they were sick of the amount of Ferguson material they were seeing. It got so bad that various art blogs that just posted pretty paintings, or kitten picture blogs that just reblogged pictures of kittens were feeling the heat (you thought I was joking about the hate for kitten picture bloggers. I never joke.) Now the issue du jour seems to be Pakistan. Just to give a few examples:

“friends if you are reblogging things that are not about ferguson right now please queue them instead. please pay attention to things that are more important. it’s not the time to talk about fandoms or jokes it’s time to talk about injustices.” [source]

“can yall maybe take some time away from reblogging fandom or humor crap and read up and reblog pakistan because the privilege you have of a safe bubble is not one shared by others” [source]

“If you’re uneducated, do not use that as an excuse. Do not say, “I’m not picking sides because I don’t know the full story,” because not picking a side is supporting Wilson. And by supporting him, you are on a racist side…Ignoring this situation will put you in deep shit, and it makes you racist. If you’re not racist, do not just say “but I’m not racist!!” just get educated and reblog anything you can.” [source]

“why are you so disappointing? I used to really like you. you’ve kept totally silent about peshawar, not acknowledging anything but fucking zutara or bellarke or whatever. there are other posts you’ve reblogged too that I wouldn’t expect you to- but those are another topic. I get that you’re 19 but maybe consider becoming a better fucking person?” [source]

“if you’re white, before you reblog one of those posts that’s like “just because i’m not blogging about ferguson doesn’t mean i don’t care!!!” take a few seconds to: consider the privilege you have that allows you not to pay attention if you don’t want to. consider those who do not have the privilege to focus on other things. ask yourself why you think it’s more important that people know you “care” than it is to spread information and show support. then consider that you are a fucking shitbaby.” [source]

“For everyone reblogging Ferguson, Ayotzinapa, North Korea etc and not reblogging Peshawar, you should seriously be ashamed of yourselves.” [source]

“This is going to be an unpopular opinion but I see stuff about ppl not wanting to reblog ferguson things and awareness around the world because they do not want negativity in their life plus it will cause them to have anxiety. They come to tumblr to escape n feel happy which think is a load of bull. There r literally ppl dying who live with the fear of going outside their homes to be shot and u cant post a fucking picture because it makes u a little upset?? I could give two fucks about internet shitlings.” [source]

You may also want to check the Tumblr tag “the trash is taking itself out”, in which hundreds of people make the same joke (“I think some people have stopped reading my blog because I’m talking too much about [the issue du jour]. I guess the trash is taking itself out now.”)

This is pretty impressive. It’s the first time outside of a chain letter that I have seen our memetic overlords throw off all pretense and just go around shouting “SPREAD ME OR YOU ARE GARBAGE AND EVERYONE WILL HATE YOU.”

But it only works because it’s tapped into the most delicious food source an ecology of epistemic parasites could possibly want – controversy,

I would like to be able to write about charity more often. Feminists would probably like to start supercharging the true rape accusations for a change. Protesters against police brutality would probably like to be able to focus on clear-cut cases that won’t make white people support the police even harder. Even PETA would probably prefer being the good guys for once. But the odds aren’t good. Not because the people involved are bad people who want to fail. Not even because the media-viewing public are stupid. Just because information ecologies are not your friend.

This blog tries to remember the Litany of Jai: “Almost no one is evil; almost everything is broken”. We pretty much never wrestle with flesh and blood; it’s powers and principalities all the way down.

VI.

…but one of them tends to come up suspiciously often.

A while ago I wrote a post called Meditations on Moloch where I pointed out that in any complex multi-person system, the system acts according to its own chaotic incentives that don’t necessarily correspond to what any individual within the system wants. The classic example is the Prisoner’s Dilemma, which usually ends at defect-defect even though both of the two prisoners involved prefer cooperate-cooperate. I compare this malignant discoordination to Ginsberg’s portrayal of Moloch, the demon-spirit of capitalism gone wrong.

I would support instating a National Conversation Topic Czar if that allowed us to get rid of celebrities.

— Steven Kaas (@stevenkaas) August 26, 2010

Steven in his wisdom reminds us that there is no National Conversation Topic Czar. The rise of some topics to national prominence and the relegation of others to tiny print on the eighth page of the newspapers occurs by an emergent uncoordinated process. When we say “the media decided to cover Ferguson instead of Eric Garner”, we reify and anthropomorphize an entity incapable of making goal-directed decisions.

A while back there was a minor scandal over JournoList, a private group where left-leaning journalists met and exchanged ideas. I think the conservative spin was “the secret conspiracy running the liberal media – revealed!” I wish they had been right. If there were a secret conspiracy running the liberal media, they could all decide they wanted to raise awareness of racist police brutality, pick the most clear-cut and sympathetic case, and make it non-stop news headlines for the next two months. Then everyone would agree it was indeed very brutal and racist, and something would get done.

But as it is, even if many journalists are interested in raising awareness of police brutality, given their total lack of coordination there’s not much they can do. An editor can publish a story on Eric Garner, but in the absence of a divisive hook, the only reason people will care about it is that caring about it is the right thing and helps people. But that’s “charity”, and we already know from my blog tags that charity doesn’t sell. A few people mumble something something deeply distressed, but neither black people nor white people get interested, in the “keep tuning to their local news channel to get the latest developments on the case” sense.

The idea of liberal strategists sitting down and choosing “a flagship case for the campaign against police brutality” is poppycock. Moloch – the abstracted spirit of discoordination and flailing response to incentives – will publicize whatever he feels like publicizing. And if they want viewers and ad money, the media will go along with him.

Which means that it’s not a coincidence that the worst possible flagship case for fighting police brutality and racism is the flagship case that we in fact got. It’s not a coincidence that the worst possible flagship cases for believing rape victims are the ones that end up going viral. It’s not a coincidence that the only time we ever hear about factory farming is when somebody’s doing something that makes us almost sympathetic to it. It’s not coincidence, it’s not even happenstance, it’s enemy action. Under Moloch, activists are irresistably incentivized to dig their own graves. And the media is irresistably incentivized to help them.

Lost is the ability to agree on simple things like fighting factory farming or rape. Lost is the ability to even talk about the things we all want. Ending corporate welfare. Ungerrymandering political districts. Defrocking pedophile priests. Stopping prison rape. Punishing government corruption and waste. Feeding starving children. Simplifying the tax code.

But also lost is our ability to treat each other with solidarity and respect.

Under Moloch, everyone is irresistably incentivized to ignore the things that unite us in favor of forever picking at the things that divide us in exactly the way that is most likely to make them more divisive. Race relations are at historic lows not because white people and black people disagree on very much, but because the media absolutely worked its tuchus off to find the single issue that white people and black people disagreed over the most and ensure that it was the only issue anybody would talk about. Men’s rights activists and feminists hate each other not because there’s a huge divide in how people of different genders think, but because only the most extreme examples of either side will ever gain traction, and those only when they are framed as attacks on the other side.

People talk about the shift from old print-based journalism to the new world of social media and the sites adapted to serve it. These are fast, responsive, and only just beginning to discover the power of controversy. They are memetic evolution shot into hyperdrive, and the omega point is a well-tuned machine optimized to search the world for the most controversial and counterproductive issues, then make sure no one can talk about anything else. An engine that creates money by burning the few remaining shreds of cooperation, bipartisanship and social trust.

Imagine Moloch, in his Carthaginian-demon personification, looking out over the expanse of the world, eagle-eyed for anything that can turn brother against brother and husband against wife. Finally he decides “YOU KNOW WHAT NOBODY HATES EACH OTHER ABOUT YET? BIRD-WATCHING. LET ME FIND SOME STORY THAT WILL MAKE PEOPLE HATE EACH OTHER OVER BIRD-WATCHING”. And the next day half the world’s newspaper headlines are “Has The Political Correctness Police Taken Over Bird-Watching?” and the other half are “Is Bird-Watching Racist?”. And then bird-watchers and non-bird-watchers and different sub-groups of bird-watchers hold vitriolic attacks on each other that feed back on each other in a vicious cycle for the next six months, and the whole thing ends in mutual death threats and another previously innocent activity turning into World War I style trench warfare.

(You think I’m exaggerating? Listen: “YOU KNOW WHAT NOBODY HATES EACH OTHER ABOUT YET? VIDEO GAMES.”)

I’ve received some questions about the Basic Instructions Calendar. I want to thank everyone who has asked, but the fact is that there isn’t a calendar for 2015, and I don’t think there will be any after that. My calendar publishers are great people, and they held on longer than most would have, but it just wasn’t going to be a profitable enterprise for them. Sorry to disappoint. Thanks for your interest.

Just a quick reminder that for the entire month of December my novels, Off to Be the Wizard and Spell or High Water are on sale over at Amazon US (The sale is only available to people in the United States. Sorry for the confusion). The Kindle editions are $2.00 and the paper versions are only $9.50.

As always, thanks for using my Amazon Affiliate links (US, UK, Canada).

Tuesday:

Ho ho ho Merry Christmas, and here’s Pollyanna Toytown in the Grauniad telling us that the Conservatories want to eat babies.

Polly’s clearly getting worried that Mr Ed won’t be delivering her cushy peerage a victory for social democracy anytime soon, as her language gets less believable by the day.

Today she’s claiming that “Only one in forty new jobs is full time”, citing the Workers Revolutionary Party(!) rather than the press release from TUC who came up with this statistic, presumably because the TUC use the word “Net” rather than “New”, a small difference but a significant one.


The TUC have arrived at their figure by taking the Office for National Statistics numbers for the amount of people in employment in summer 2014 and comparing them with the numbers from the start of 2008, before Mr Frown’s Government ran face first into the biggest crash in history.

The Coalition government like to do this too, because it shows that a million more people have jobs now than before the economy was wiped out under Labour.

And the figures do show that twenty-five thousand more people are in full time employment now than in 2008, which is indeed 25,000/1,000,000 or 1/40 of the total increase.

Think about it for a moment and see if you spot the flaw in the reasoning before I tell you.

Yes, that’s 1/40 is of the extra new jobs, not all new jobs.

This makes the TUC’s headline somewhat hyperbolic, but at least with a figleaf of honesty in that, pardon me, “safety Net”.

To switch the “net” for “new” makes the headline say a whole other thing.

So the question becomes, is Polly stupid or lying? I have to say that citing the Workers Revolutionary Party – when she is neither worker nor particularly revolutionary, and not much of a party animal either; despite her aspirations to influence, the defector to and then from the SDP usually ends up in a party of one – suggests that she was looking for the headline to match her prejudice.

For Pollyanna’s claim to apply to “one in forty new jobs” she would have to be saying that not one single full time job has been lost under the Coalition.

It seems unlikely that Ms Toytown’s message is that the Coalition are paragons of preservation when it comes to employment.

In fact, Polly – and the Labour Party – put it about rather a lot that the Coalition have caused the loss of a great many full time jobs (by implication “proper” jobs) and replaced them with part-time zero-hour (substandard) serfdom. And that is what this “one in forty” claim is trying to back up, to make you think.

But the figures actually show that just as many people (actually slightly more) have full time jobs now than before the Credit Crunch.

And there are a lot more people in part-time and self-employed jobs, who were previously without work at all.

Of course it’s not that simple. Some people who were in full-time jobs have lost them and not got new ones are now in part time work or unemployed. There’s genuine hardship and suffering about. And the real value – after inflation – of the wages from those full-time jobs may not be as much as they used to be in 2008 because we’ve been sharing the pain so that fewer people lose their jobs. We mustn’t forget that.

But Hard Labour cynically seek to capitalize on this politically by calling it their “Cost of Living Crisis”.

The recent cross-party report on hunger in the UK was remarkably fair and non-partisan. But again, almost immediately Hard Labour went for the self-interested spin and started crying crocodile tears over the “shame” of Britain’s Food Banks. (Germany, in fact, has more people using food banks.)

This point-scoring for their own ends undermines efforts to help end hunger. Labour don’t just put their own interests ahead of fixing things; they actually make things worse.

Polly Toynbee no doubt justifies her mendacity with the thought that Labour are “good” and so anything to get them into power, no matter how dishonest or harmful, must be “good”.

No doubt David Milipede justified British complicity in CIA torture with much the same reasoning.


Previously, Statistics Part Un

and Part Deux

(UPDATE: The Toast and The Butter are indeed revamping their contracts; details at the bottom of the original entry.)

Writer Beware has posted a heads up for writers with regard to Web sites The Toast and The Butter, and the rights they are asking from contributors. Specifically, WB reports that contributors to the sites must hand over copyright (and, where applicable, moral rights). The specific freelance contractual clause in question, according to WB (relevant bits bolded by them):

The Contributor hereby acknowledges and agrees that the Work, including any drawings, images, sounds, video recordings, or other data embedded in the work and including adaptations or derivative works based on the Work is the sole and exclusive property of the Toast and the Toast has all rights under existing United States’ copyright law and all reproduction and republication rights. In the event that any portion of the Work is not copyrightable, The Contributor hereby irrevocably assigns any and all ownership of the Work’s intellectual property rights, including but not limited to: patents, trademarks, design rights, database rights, trade secrets, moral rights, and other proprietary rights and ll rights of an equivalent nature anywhere in the world to the Toast. The Contributor further acknowledges and agrees that the rights being granted to the Toast include the right to own and register all copyrights in the Work. The Contributor hereby irrevocably assigns all the above described rights herein to the Toast and agrees to execute such additional documents as may be requested by the Toast to evidence the Toast’s ownership of said rights in the Work. The Contributor further hereby waives any “moral rights” claims she may have with respect to the Work.

WB also notes that this transfer of copyright is not noted in the submission guidelines on the site. I checked, and this seems correct.

What do you get for this transfer of copyright and moral rights? According to Writer Beware:

$50.

So, yeah, no.

Note well I have been a huge, huge fan on The Toast and specifically the work of Mallory Ortberg, who is site editor, and who may in fact be one of the funniest humans alive on the planet at the moment. I’m also a very big fan of Roxane Gay, who recently signed on to edit The Toast’s sister site, The Butter. As quality reads online, I love them.

But no matter how much I like and admire Ortberg or Gay, or their writing, the sites’ attempting to grab copyright and every other possible right for $50 is a whole lot of egregious bullshit. Also egregious bullshit: The response of Nick Pavich, publisher of The Toast and The Butter, when questioned about the policy (see the above included image, which notes his response). It’s basically saying the publisher doesn’t actually give a shit about writers, which is not, generally, an excellent way to convince people to write for you, and which makes Ortberg and Gay’s positions more difficult.

I’ll be clear: I would not write for The Toast or The Butter for these terms, no way, no how. I’ve done work for hire (the formal term for work for which one does not retain copyright), but it sure as hell wasn’t for fifty bucks — if a company is requiring me to relinquish all rights and potential for future earning from my work, I better be adequately compensated up front, and fifty bucks doesn’t even come close to matching my definition of “adequately compensated” in that case.

Nor could I suggest other people write for them under those contractual conditions, especially as Mr. Pavich’s response above suggests he’s not especially interested in negotiation on that point. That’s his right, if that’s the case, but I’m not sure why I would want to write for someone who has that little regard for the economic concerns of the folks who populate his site with the stuff people want to read. Contempt isn’t a good look.

The good news here is that this is a relatively simple fix. The Toast and The Butter can easily change the language of their contract to avoid attempting to claim copyright and moral rights (the latter of which, as I understand it, may not actually even be possible for them to take in some jurisdictions), and instead work out a license commensurate to what $50 is actually worth, which (in my not entirely uninformed opinion, having been on online editor) would be first publication, a window of exclusivity and the right to non-exclusive archiving on their site. They could also reserve non-exclusive print rights (or compilations, etc) contingent on additional payment. That seems reasonable to me.

This is also a reminder that writers should always always always check their contracts and also understand them, and the market. Bluntly put: Selling your copyright is not a standard practice, and certainly not for five lousy Hamiltons. So what The Toast and The Butter are doing here is a flat-out rights grab. If you didn’t know it, you know it now. Again: I sure as hell wouldn’t take this deal, and I don’t know why anyone else would want to either.

I hope this gets fixed soon. I like reading The Toast and The Butter. But I would find them more difficult to read, if I don’t believe they treat their writers with respect. Demanding copyrights for next to nothing is not what respect looks like to me.

Update, 1:05pm – Two tweets of interest from The Butter editor Roxane Gay:

Update: 2pm: Nick Pavich apologizes for his tweets on the issue and promises contractual fixes. I’m not really sold on his excuses for how they did the contracts previously, but if they’re fixing them now, all the better.

Update: 2:15pm: More on the changing contracts, from The Toast editor Mallory Ortberg: “[W]e’re changing our contracts to ask only for First North American Rights (so rights revert to the writer after 6 months), as well as online serial rights so that we can retain the work on our sites in perpetuity. We’re also writing into the contract the promise that we will revert rights in the case of a book deal, so that what we’ve always done in practice will be spelled out in writing.”

The only I note I would add to the above is that I would want it to be clearer if the online serial rights were exclusive or non-exclusive; this could be an issue if the publication which bought something for reprint has an online component.

But generally, this is a substantial improvement.

So: I can keep reading The Toast and The Butter! Hooray for me! And also, and rather more importantly, hooray for the writers of the site. And thanks to the Toast/Butter editorial staff for listening and making changes.