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Wednesday, May 8, 2002

And a brief p.s. on the episode... [more]

Posted by jones059 @ 08:33 AM CST [Link]5 comments

Some thoughts on Spike in last night's episode, put on cutaway for the sake of those few who didn't see it and have somehow managed to avoid spoilage. [more]

Posted by jones059 @ 08:14 AM CST [Link]5 comments

Tuesday, May 7, 2002

Thamiris launched an interesting conversation on first sentences in stories, which has been bouncing along both in her comments section and in other blogs. (My favorite comment so far is Vali's: Pastiche!)

Most of my own first sentences are deeply unremarkable, at best just a serviceable way to get the story rolling, but then I've never been a big believer in the importance of the Grabby First Line. As both reader and writer, I'll give a story at least a paragraph or two to warm the engine up and ease into traffic. The only one I'm particularly fond of is from Roots Rain: "As it turned out, it was just as well that an irate cook spilled hot and sour soup on my uniform at the seventeenth Thai restaurant, or I wouldn't have gotten Ray's message until much later." Not that that ends up having a whole lot to do with the story; but then, reading over story openings, I realize that for me they usually serve to set up what I think of as the "B" plot, the external structure of events that I need in order to situate the characters where I need them (physically, emotionally) so the real story, the thinking and talking, can happen. I need to get Fraser alone and in despair. I need to get Methos and Duncan and Joe talking in the bar, in specific emotional states. I need to get Ray to the gym, all freaked out and violent. I need to get cracking-up John out to LA to talk with Billy. Some chain of events needs to be hammered together to make these things happen, and while I try to do a workmanlike job with that aspect of a story, it's not where my passion is, and I think that shows in the pedestrian nature of my story openings. I just don't like plot, as it's conventionally understood, but then I think I've said that before.

In other matters, I've made a few overdue updates to the links list. I think there were others I was going to add, but since I don't do anything sensible like make bookmarks, these updates tend to be a rather random process. At some point I may need to make an executive decision about whether I'm simply going to keep adding on to this list ad infinitum, or if I should try to formulate criteria and thin the ranks a little. This is a quandry for me, actually. On the one hand, I'm not egomaniacal enough to think that being linked here or not being linked here constitutes a big whoop for anyone; on the other hand, I'd hate to bruise anyone's feelings by deleting them. And I've had one or two people tell me they use these links as a kind of portal to find other blogs, which argues for going toward the completist side of the scale. Gah. I dunno. For now, I'll probably let inertia win the day.

Posted @ 08:16 AM CST [Link]9 comments

Sunday, May 5, 2002

OK, so call me a big yuppified middle-class weenie, but I love Ikea, and here's a reason why:

So I spend yesterday putting together the new cabinets, dah dee dah, and all is going well, I am Competent!Woman, she who wields a mighty screwdriver! And this morning I set out to complete the task by attaching the glass doors to the front of the cabinets ... and I hit a snag. No matter what I do, I can't seem to get the screws to thread into the little piece that provides a backing for the door hinges. I fiddle and fiddle, and curse a bit, and then, being the cockeyed optimist that I am, I decide to try calling the one and only phone number I have for Ikea, the 1-800 place-an-order number. After a blessedly brief recorded "here are your options" spiel, I get--ta da!--a live human being. Explain my situation, and he says (sounding genuinely regretful), "OK, I'm sorry, I can't help you with that myself, but let me transfer you to someone who can." Click, ring-ring, and I am connected with--ta da, again!--another live human being, very pleasant southern-sounding lady. I recap the problem, not really expecting much beyond "I'm sorry, we'll have to have someone get back to you next week," but instead, what she says is "Oh, you're putting together one of those Magiker shelving sets, right? I had that exact same problem at first when I was putting mine together, and here's what you need to do: just put the glass door on a low sturdy surface, like a coffee table, where you can be directly over it, and put a towel or something underneath to give it a little cushion. Then put the screw in the hole, and it'll feel like it's not going to thread in, just like you said, but if you bear down on it, and just give it a little bit of a wiggle, it'll catch pretty easily, and then you just have to give it two turns and it's in. I know it feels like it's not going to catch at first, but just give it some pressure, and it should go right in. Give it a try, and if it doesn't work, just call me back and we can send you some replacement hardware."

Mildly dumbfounded, I thank her, hang up, give it a try -- and by god, it works just the way she said.

Now mind you -- this was at ten o'clock on a Sunday morning. What are the odds that you could call the average retail business at ten o'clock on a Sunday morning with a consumer problem, and with one transfer-through from the main sales number, be connected with someone who understands the exact nature of your problem and can tell you exactly how to fix it??

This, friends, is customer service of a high order. I am most impressed. Those folks have got a customer for life. Now if they'd only open a store in Minnesota . . .

And the cabinets look great, and I got my stereo moved and rehooked without disaster, and I have actually got the videotape collection sorted! Yes, sorted! And organized!! And all in all, my prowess is unbounded. Now all I have to do is clean up the incredible mess resulting from these adventures, which is of course the most boring part of any project. (The second-most-boring part of any project is preparing surfaces properly before painting. I mean, c'mon. God only knows how many surfaces I have painted in the course of my long and peripatetic life, and one thing I've learned is that by the time the paint peels off due to lack of proper surface preparation, I will likely either have (a) moved or (b) gotten heartily sick of whatever color I painted stuff the last time and be ready for a re-do. So what the hell. Fraser would tsk-tsk at me, but I repeat: what the hell. Life is too short.)

Posted @ 05:49 PM CST [Link]8 comments