HAPPY THANKSGIVING: “As God as my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!” #gobblegobble #writing

THANKSGIVING TURKEY GIVEAWAY! (WKRP in Cincinnati) from Tony DeSanto on Vimeo.

This is, in my humble, a damn-near perfect gag–which is saying something, because I find single-camera laugh-track situation comedies almost entirely unbearable to watch. They are the awful, crippled, shambling intermediate link between stage plays (which I like) and modern cinematic multi-camera sitcoms (which I *also* like). That said, the terribly be-shitted wasteland of laugh-track sitcoms was–by very virtue of the enormous piles of shit–nutrient rich soil, and some wonderful things flourished there. Chief among them were gags like this. Here it’s presented as a single, stand-alone joke. But in the episode itself, it was broken up (you can see the rough jump cuts where it’s pasted together here), and developed across the entire half-hour of programming as a sort of lietmotif.

TIP FOR WRITERS: This sort of multi-strand punctuated development is a really great tool both for building and managing tension (and thus carrying the audience along), and for building stories that can grab and hold otherwise non-overlapping audiences (MY SO-CALLED LIFE is sort of a perfect example of this: Most episodes had largely independent narrative threads about the parents and teens, making that show highly watchable to two groups who otherwise can’t agree on much).

ANOTHER TIP FOR WRITERS: When this joke is presented standalone like this, it becomes obvious that it’s a pretty tidy example of a piece that is pleasing and easy to track, in part, because it manages cognitive load gracefully–establishing a premise, building expectant tension, then releasing that tension–with a classic three-part structure.

FINAL NOTE: When I was a kid, it was the general manager’s punchline that I repeated–“as God as my witness, I thought turkeys could fly!”–believing that it was the key to this house. I mean, after all, folks laugh when you say that. But as I get older and re-watch this each year, I find that what really, really makes it is Les Nessman’s earnest reporting of the facts–he is, in fact, in his naiveté, perfectly modeling what a reporter should be and should do–and especially his shell-shocked recounting, during the story’s Tangle, of the turkey’s counterattack. I’ve found that often–especially in literary fiction–authors confuse the Tangle with the Resolution, believing that once they’ve provided the Setup and Tangle, their story is done. I’d previously assumed that this was because they’d mistaken a simple twist for a “twist ending.” But the WKRP Turkey Drop Gag gives a clue as to a deeper reason for why folks confuse the Tangle for the Resolution: It’s because the Tangle is often the source of your story’s real punch, the place in its core that it coils back down into in order to spring out from its heels and knock you silly with the Resolution. (If these terms–Tangle, Resolution–are throwing you, just skim the bulleted bit near the top of the cognitive load post.)

The Working-for-the-Weekend Career Strategy: Pick a Pay Scale, and Look for a Job in that Zone



I’ve become increasingly convinced that “find your passion” is an incredibly destructive piece of advice. It tends to create three outcomes:

  1. Folks who follow their passion and flourish in that field.

  2. Folks who follow their passion, discover that they are constitutionally ill-fit for that job, and either self-destruct or abandon ship, in either case feeling like a failure.

  3. Folks who have no idea what the Hell their “passion” is supposed to be, and thus spend their working life being, at best, deeply dissatisfied.
    1. Group #1 is vanishingly small, and possibly self-deluded. Bear in mind that, technically, that word–“passion”–denotes a level of excitement and arousal that is almost unbearable. It should be used to describe experiences that are fleeting and intense: orgasms are passionate, teaching English is a slog. If you tell me “teaching is your passion,” then I want to know what the word us you use for when your genitals are in contact with those of someone you love.
      Group #2 are the sad realists. I was actually in a job that was my “passion” for about 8 years. I was good at it, but totally psychological incapable of coping with the job’s stresses, and that almost ended up killing me (literally).
      Group #3 are robbed of one of the great satisfactions of human life: Being useful to other humans. No one is passionate about custodial work, or even “passionate” about it. But there are some really great custodians out there, who make lives better every day, and are proud of their work and the positive impact they have on their fellow humans. That is a noble and wonderful thing, and it’s embarrassingly easy to achieve: When you learn a trade and do it competently–not passionately, but well and responsibly–you can and will be useful to your fellow humans. I’d wager that *most* of the dissatisfied workers in Group #3 are perfectly competent at their jobs, and could be enjoying, on a daily basis, how useful they are to their friends, neighbors, coworkers, and family–but they aren’t, because they’re casting around for the career equivalent of True Love.
      So, here’s my suggestions: Forget about your “passion.” Instead, imagine the kind of life you want to live–Where do you want to live? With whom? How many if them are dependent children or pets? What hobbies and and trips and experiences do you want to have in your life?–Calculate out how much money you need on an annual basis to do that, and then look at this list and pick a job.
      This works for folks changing careers, too. Sick of being a teacher (which is, incidentally, the “passion” that almost killed me)? Well, heck, then consider being an embalmer or a glazier or hazmat worker or a radio/TV announcer or a solar-cell installer or a goddamn drywaller–all of which pay about the same as being a first-year teacher, and two of which I know for a fact you can learn in a week or two of on-the-job training. Lots of weird, unrelated jobs are adjacent to each other in pay. There are lots of different ways to work for the weekend.
      (source where I first saw this graphic)

Start Your Virtual Non-Denominational Gift-Giving Holiday Shopping Early: 50% Off No Starch Press eBooks LIKE MINE!!!


From now until T-Day No Starch Press is offering 50% of all their DRM-free ebooks, including my first book, Snip, Burn, Solder, Shred. These ebook bundles include mobi (for Kindles), ePub (for everything else), and really awesomely slick PDFs–like, the PDF is *literally* the file used to print the book itself. Stunningly sharp, super-easy to search. Totally sold me on ebooks, as a thing.
Anyway, use the coupon code: GRAVYBOAT, save $10, and get jolly as Old Saint Nick power-slamming latkes and apple-beer with black baby Jesus and all his flying magic elk-dogs–or whatever. Merry Spendingtime!!!

This Video Really Takes Me Back to When We Were Kids and Would Doze Off in Front of the TV, Sleeping Fitfully…

… on the itchy sectional sofa, and all the shows would run together as we tossed and turned, blending together until they finally relaxed into being the all-droning, ululating laugh-track groan of the VidGod Itself, muttering to us what to purchase next and who should be chased through the forest, barefoot and panting, until we cornered him (or her!) in the sodium-vapor infused strip-mall parking lots and–well, I don’t need to be tedious about it. We’ve all seen Small Wonder and Out of this World, amiright? Great shows, just great, great slices of Americana. Right?
(I.e., keep watching through to the end; there’s a Special Guest Star this week–and it’s maybe you!)

What I’m Listening to: The Golden Record Nailed to the Side of an Alien Spacecraft[*]


On honor of earth’s robots’ recent success in capturing a comet, I’ve spent the morning listening to the music that’s inscribed on the “golden records” attached to the outside of the Voyager I and II space probes. (I wrote about this record last year, when Voyager I finally escaped our solar system. Errata: in that post I erroneously claimed that “Johnny B. Goode,” Navajo Chant, and “Dark Was the Night—Cold Was the Ground”—my personal pick from this album—are the only tracks by US artists on the record; there is also a Louise Armstrong Blues. All apologies to the Idea of the Ghost of Mr. Armstrong for the omission [see also].)
At any rate, here’s by far the best presentation of the Golden Record I’ve come upon to date; a real joy to run in the background as you toil away your finite hours in service to the vast web of computers that have enmeshed and now devour us all:
Infinite Voyager
If you are a simple 1970’s robot stuck on a 50-year death-trip road trip with no real destination and only one mix tape, you could do worse. Godspeed to all the little robots we keep condemning to the void; you are indeed brave little toasters.

Continue reading “What I’m Listening to: The Golden Record Nailed to the Side of an Alien Spacecraft[*]”

In About an Hour Humanity Will Harpoon a Star: Rosetta, Philae, and the Comet

Ten years ago humans launched this box into space. It was about the size of a couple refrigerators shoved together, and it had another box strapped to it that’s sort of the size and shape of a doghouse. The target was this comet you’ve never heard of out past Jupiter. Back in August the refrigerators caught up to the comet, and early this morning it released the doghouse. Around 11am today that doghouse is going to harpoon the comet.
European Spacecraft Set to Harpoon a Comet Tomorrow | NASA

Early tomorrow morning [Nov 12], the European Space Agency’s Rosetta spacecraft will deploy its comet lander, “Philae.” A little over seven hours later (8 a.m. PST/11 a.m. EST), the experiment-laden, harpoon-firing Philae is scheduled to touch down on the surface of comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko. It will be the first time in history that a spacecraft has attempted a soft landing on a comet. Rosetta is an international mission led by the European Space Agency (ESA), with instruments provided by its member states, and additional support and instruments provided by NASA.
“I know it sounds like something out of Moby Dick, but when you think about the gravity field of a comet, it makes a lot of sense to harpoon one,” said Art Chmielewski, project manager for the U.S. participation in Rosetta, from NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, California. “Comet 67P has approximately 100,000 times less gravity than Earth does. So, if you don’t want to float away, you have to go to extraordinary measures to attach yourself to its dusty surface. The Philae lander has two harpoons, shock-absorbing landing gear, and a drill located on each of the lander’s three feet. It even has a small, upward-firing rocket engine. All this to help keep it on the surface.”

This pic is one that the Philae lander took in October, showing the Rosetta probe it’s riding (that’s the big solar panel), with the comet in the background. (Source: European Space Agency, via Slate.com). The comet looks like two asteroids because it’s got a really jankety shape, as shown below (photoshopped onto LA, to give a sense of scale–a totally, breathtakingly existentially mortifying sense of scale):

When I explained this whole thing to my wife last month, showing her the “Rosetta selfie” from the top of this post, her response was: “Thirty years ago some little boy had a dream of someday harpooning a comet, and here we are.”
I don’t know about the genders involved, but in the broad strokes, she’s totally right.
When her brother was a kid someone asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up.
“A tractor!” he said.
No, they told him, You want to be a farmer, Paul; a farmer drives the tractor.
“No! I want to be a tractor on the moon!
And he, of course, became an engineer (like his father) working for Whirlpool (like his father). And, on the one hand, this sounds sort of small, spending your life working on the control system for a washer or refining the circuit design for a dryer. It ain’t plowing the moon or lassoing a star. It’s not what little boys and girls dream of.
But I have one of those washers. I see washers and dryers that my father-in-law helped design in folks’ houses all the time. These quite literally *mundane* engineers touch millions of lives daily, globally. In countless, tiny ways they’ve remade the world. To me, that really seems like the power of these big grand gestures, chasing the comets and roving Mars: That it sells humans on doing the daily little work to make being human a little less toil and a little more joy. I mean, for real, the guys and gals who designed the clamp to hold the doghouse to the refrigerators for 10 years, until this morning when that clamp had to do its one job right, they weren’t Jodie Foster and Matthew McConaughey. They were little folks working in crappy cubicles to do their small part in totally altering the Universe. All great things happen this way, and all things that are the sum of many humans doing their little part are great.
So, Paul has a baby coming in about four weeks, and he isn’t plowing the moon, but I think we can all agree that’s fine: His work makes taking care of babies–who produce a huge volume of dirty laundry–that much easier, and you can’t grow a damn thing on the moon, anyway; it never *rains* there, kid. #sheesh
Wanna watch the harpoon-landing live? There’s a webcast for that; tune in!

*UPDATE* HELLA GOOD DEAL ALERT! $7 “Helping Hands” from Maker Shed!–and Even Cheaper at Harbor Freight!?! #diy

UPDATE: My lifelong compadre Adam Stein points out that Harbor Freight has basically the same Helping Hands for $3.50! *Yikes!* BUY NOW!

I don’t normally post stuff like this, but Maker Shed has a couple really good deals right now for folks new to soldering.
These helping hands are a *steal* at $6.99, and make life *so much easier.* There is now almost *no* soldering task I do without using my helping hands (although I have pulled off the magnifier, which was never very useful to me). Also, this variable-temp soldering iron also looks promising. The reviews are mixed, but at $25, it’s probably worth taking a chance.

Things I’m Backing: HAPHEAD (a sci-fi web series) and RADIOTOPIA (indie storytelling podcast network)

For a guy that gripes often about how sick he is of Kickstarter, I seem to spend an unlikely amount of energy hyping folks’ Kickstarters. All cosmic irony aside, here are two projects that I think are worth your shekels; take that with any number of grains of salt you deem necessary.

HAPHEAD

First off is Haphead, a scifi web series that’s actually already been shot, and just needs funds to finish post-production. I’ve often sung the praises of Jim Munroe in the past (his novel Angry Young Spaceman was huge for me when I was in my 20s–and read it as an ebook on a goddamn Palm IIIx. I also dug his recent iOS video game, and hosted the first Midwestern screening of his last film). Haphead is a new thing for Jim–who’s long done projects totally independently and on a shoestring–in that instead of relying on volunteers, goodwill, and borrowed gear, everyone is getting paid. The end result is a work with production values to match the writing and performances. It looks super, duper slick, and I’m excited to see it come out ASAP:

Backing this project means seeing it go live and free on the web ASAP, rather than having it go into a drawer until they figure out some other way to fund the finishing touches.
ADDED BONUS (FOR US BACKERS ONLY!!!) Since this is all being done by charming Canadians around Toronto, the favorable exchange rate means backing at $10 CAD (to get a hi-def pre-release download of all 8 episodes) will only cost you $8.46! Take advantage of foreign exchange rates, just like a Wall Street Douchebag!

RADIOTOPIA

The other back-worth project is Radiotopia. This began as an outgrowth of an insanely successful Kickstarter for a single show, and has basically become a narrative-driven podcast-only NPR: A network of high-quality, highly entertaining shows arranged around first-person story-driven journalism and a new generation of “radio dramas.”

I’m a huge fan of 99 Percent Invisible–and backed that original runaway-success Kickstarter–and similarly love some of the shows that Radiotopia has since adopted and funded. Chief among these is The Truth. This Truth episode from mid-September, Cold Reading is a perfect example of the sort of not-highly-profitably, but still highly-polished work that you fund when you kick in on this Kickstarter.

Radiotopia has already fully funded (yeah!), but if they get to 20,000 backers–at any level–they get a $25,000 bonus. So all you have to do here is kick them a lousy buck to help this project get a big boos. That’s pretty rad.

Write Better: Watch Penn & Teller Saw Your Cognitive Load in Half! #writing

One of the things I think about a lot when I’m writing–but have only written about a little and tangentially–is cognitive load: The amount of data we expect readers to juggle and integrate. Readers only have so much cognitive bandwidth; writing that begins to overload this bandwidth is, at best, “challenging”–or, more frequently, simply frustrating and tiresome.

Managing Someone Else’s Cognitive Load

One way (the primary way?) of managing cognitive load is to balance the new/interesting/challenging items/structures you want readers to handle by giving them very easy-to-digest formulaic frameworks. E.g., Do you have a very complicated plot? Then either give them a very constrained set of characters (e.g., very few in number–like in Primer–or highly caricatured, like in The Usual Suspects). Numerous or very psychologically complex characters? Keep the story running in real-time (Hitchcock’s Rope), or confined to a single location (Reservoir Dogs), so readers don’t have to track both shifting alliances and shifting time/place. Very elevated language, or a challenging invented argot (Clockwork Orange, looking at you)? Keep the plot straightforward and the structure rigid (Clockwork is, at its heart, a very simple morality play broken into three equal-weighted acts, and tracing a downright medieval character trajectory).[*]

And so on. There’s a million combinations, but it starts with realizing that your reader’s attention is finite and precious, and you need to make hard choices in directing and managing that attention.

The 45/45/10 Formula

My fall-back formula for managing cognitive load in a story is to break it into 45/45/10 by word count:

  • The first 45% of the words are the Setup: Characters and situations are presented and relationships made clear.
  • The next 45% of the words are the Tangle: A complication disrupts (or at least complicates) the situation laid out in the Setup.
  • The last 10% of the story is the Resolution: The knot is Untangled, for better or worse.[**]

45/45/10 stories have pretty consistently proven easier for me to place than anything else, and I believe that’s because they are much easier to read. (It’s a very common pattern–you see it all over short stories and novels–and students of creative writing will no doubt notice that it’s basically a boiled-down version of the infamous three-act structure I was going on about last week. Just to make a quick point about process, though: I fall back on the 45/45/10 as a way to analyze things I’m revising, or to help me suss out where I should go next if I lose the thread of my narrative, but it isn’t like I use it to generate stories. It’s a formula into which I plug in characters, situations, and problems, not a handle I crank so that a black-box will poop out a salable story.)

Penn & Teller Cut Through the Tangle

So, all that said, here’s Penn & Teller’s version of Sawing the Lady in Half. I love P&T, but not just because they are good magicians (in fact, having seen them live now and again, I can see that they aren’t always that hot, in terms of the mechanics of sleight-of-hand; they botch things just as often as any other live pros). What I love about P&T is that they make the fact that magic is a narrative art front and center; it’s not about technique or gimmicks or effect, it’s about telling stories (just like good ads and good poems and good stories). And, because I’m still a post-modern comp lit student at heart, I’m tickled even further by the fact that their stories are always metafictions, stories about the nature of stories themselves, and story telling. They are meta-magicians whose work, over the long haul, comments on and critiques their craft in a deep and loving way. I love that meaty, rich approach, which means that even if I occasionally find the execution a little weak, I don’t care because the overall narrative of the trick is itself delightful and instructive.

As is the case here: this trick–and oldy, but a goody–falls tidily into my best belovéd 45/45/10 formula: They give as a full Setup–with four characters (one of them being us, the audience, who in P&T’s stories is always a character), they Tangle that Setup, and then they Resolve it in a way that implicates everyone involved (including us, the audience). it is a tight and lovely 3min35sec. Watch it, and watch the clock while you do:

Continue reading “Write Better: Watch Penn & Teller Saw Your Cognitive Load in Half! #writing”

Narrative, Argument, and 3-Part Structures: Beginning, Middle, End; Pity, Fear, Catharsis; Claim, Support, Conclude; Arrive, Observe, Conquer

Listen: All pieces of halfway decent writing–all jokes, all ad copy, all novels, all recipes, all news articles–are narrative, and all narrative is formulaic. There aren’t exceptions, just the rule. And that formula, at it’s base, is the Fundamental Three-Part Structure[*]

But, to be clear, I never draft anything beginning with the Structure. I don’t think the Formula is any good for generating “content.” That said, once I catch the thread of what I’m working on, I invariably start to break it down into its three parts, in order to get a sense of how I should develop the piece. This is basically automatic now with essays–because I’ve been writing them for so damn long–but I still very self-consciously seek out the parameters of the “Setup,” “Tangle,” and “Untangle” (my pet names for these parts in fiction) when I’m working a story (and it very much feels like *working* a story, not *writing* it or *drafting* it; you work a story like you work clay).

So, while you might not buy into that tired old “three-act structure,” I think you discount structure and formula, in general, at your peril. For me, the refusal to see writing fiction as being fundamentally the same as writing non-fiction–structurally–immeasurably slowed my progress as a writer of stories: All of my sales were happy accidents, all my failures bewildering mysteries.
But the thing is that not everyone’s formulation of the Fundamental Three-Part Structure works for everyone else. Like I said, because I had an early and thorough introduction to drama (esp. Shakespeare–a writer of *five* act plays), I rejected the “three-act structure” early (and lamentably).
But there are *tons* of ways of characterizing the Fundamental Three-Part Structure–just like there are tons of faces of the One True God (*zing!*) The trick is finding the characterization that works for you (I’ll share mine down the road–but tonight this needs to be short, so short I’ll keep it). Aristotle, for example, characterized the Fundamental Three-Part Structure as the audience–identifying with the protagonist–being guided through Pity, Fear, and Catharsis.

It’s in that spirit that I present this talk by Julian Friedmann. He’s a literary/screen(?) agent I’d never heard of before, but he has a somewhat novel spin on the Fundamental Three-Part Structure. He talks about structure and Aristotle’s Pity-Fear-Catharsis starting around 8:18, but the whole thing is a worthy watch. I also very much dig Friedmann explanation of why we consistently and deeply enjoy narrative, in that it is an opportunity to “rehearse our fears.” I think that’s important, esp. if you want to make some dough in this game, or are perplexed why something with abysmal writing–like THE HUNGER GAMES–is a bestseller, while countless beautifully written novels bumble along boring you to tears. A big part of it is that those lovely pieces of lyrical writing have failed to make sure their structure is sturdy and balanced. And part of it is that they are giving you no opportunity to rehearse your fear of what comes next.

Continue reading “Narrative, Argument, and 3-Part Structures: Beginning, Middle, End; Pity, Fear, Catharsis; Claim, Support, Conclude; Arrive, Observe, Conquer”