Grandad January 31st, 2008

Everyone is talking about the Irish Blog Awards.  And why not?

I have been nominated in the Best Blog, Best Personal Blog and Most Humorous Post [for 'God to sue America'?] categories, and to whoever voted for me, I extend a humble thank you.  I know someone did, because I didn’t vote for myself.  I don’t expect to get too far because there are so many excellent entries.  The competition is just too stiff.

What really delights me is to see that K8 the GR8 got two nominations too.  She is in for Best Newcomer and Best Blog Post.

I am going to be rooting for her because she has a talent for writing, which she refuses to acknowledge, and I don’t want her saying “I told you so“.

What I want you all to do is to nip over to that Best Post.  It is certainly one of the best posts I have read since I started blogging.  The blogging world can be cruel and cynical.  It can be funny and thought provoking.  But I think this piece of writing is a little oasis of love.

It’s called simply ‘Pop’.

• Awards
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Grandad January 31st, 2008

To Grandad and Annette

A baby boy

Sean Keith weighed in at 8 kilobytes.

Born in the bowels of Facebook.

So you said it couldn’t be done.

Yup!  I got together with Annette.  My bytes mingled with her code, and a few seconds later, Sean Keith was born.

He’s probably starving because I haven’t been near him since.  I notice nobody has played with him at all. 

The great thing about virtual kids is that you can erase them.  One click of the mouse is all it takes.  I’ll remind him of that when he’s looking for money or clothes [or food].

The picture above is of course a new one. 

I managed to get in with the camera just after he was born, so I have a real live photograph of him.

Isn’t he beautiful?

I think he takes after his mammy?

• Facebook
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Grandad January 30th, 2008

Sinéad Gleeson wants to know what it’s like juggling a blog and writing a book.

I wish it were that easy.

Some years ago, I started a little business, which took on a mind of its own, and grew until it was a full time job.  I even had to turn work away.

Towards the end of 2006, the work eased down a bit, and I had time to start a blog.  Last year was fine, in that the work came in at a trickle, and I had plenty of time for the blogging.

Around October, all that changed.  First of all, for no reason whatsoever, the work started to pour in.  I have never advertised my business, so I don’t know where they came from, but come they did.  And then I got involved in the novel thing.

I find blogging easy.  The hardest part about it is coming up with the idea, and that usually isn’t too difficult.  A quick browse around other blogs, or a glimpse of the news or whatever, and I’m away.  I write as I think.  I don’t plan or structure.  I allow my spell-checker to take care of spelling [except when it insists on using a fucking American version].  I am a stickler for grammar, but I probably get that wrong too.  If I get a post wrong, I lose nothing.  I can make up for it again.  Bloggers are used to bad posts, and generally are a forgiving lot.  And if I lose my readers, there is no financial loss.  All I have lost is the time taken to write it, which is counted in minutes rather than hours.

Writing a novel is completely different.  A novel has to be structured.  It has word counts, and deadlines.  It has to appeal to an audience that is not used to the vagaries of the blog world.  It is very time consuming and requires a lot of thought and planning.  A novel has to be good.  It is unforgiving.  I have to pour my soul into it, because if I get it wrong, then I have wasted months of very hard work, not to mention the time and effort [and money] that the publisher has invested.  Get a book wrong, and there is no second chance.  I can’t tell my readers to come back tomorrow, because I’ll do better.  I don’t get any feedback until the entire thing is done, so there is the constant fear that I will invest a good chunk of a year in a lot of hard work that will be wasted.

My work is a completely different ball game.  It is essentially mathematical in nature and requires a different part of the brain altogether.  Also, I am on call from nine until half five, so it can intrude at any stage.

So, the juggling is fierce.

Generally, I start the day with the blog.  I post my effort, and then turn to the work.  If I have something urgent on, that can take all day, but in general, I can keep clients happy with a morning’s work.  I then try and have a nap, and wake up with my Book Head on.  I then try and write for the afternoon and on a bit into the evening, or at least until Herself starts complaining.

It doesn’t work out that way though.

Once the blog post goes up, comments start coming in.  So even though I’m pounding away at formulae and calculations, I have to mentally switch to literary mode to respond.  It’s only polite, after all.  Then during the afternoon, if I’m really lucky, I get right into the head of the character.  I’m in the location.  I can see what is going on around me in the novel, and I literally write it as it happens.  And then the fucking phone rings and it’s a client wanting me to do something urgently.  I am dragged screaming out of my fantasy world, where I have been having a great time, and have to immediately switch to my Business Head which isn’t easy.  And then of course I have to worm my way back into the plot after.

There are four options.

I can give up the work, but my existing clients rely on me, and anyway we are saving to go to France hopefully.  I like France and the thought of it keeps me reasonably sane, even if they too have succumbed to the insidious smoking ban.

I could give up blogging, but frankly, I enjoy it too much.  That too helps me retain a modicum of sanity.

I could give up the book.  That would probably be the worst option, because it would be one of the greatest regrets of my life.  It is an opportunity that is afforded to very few.  It is a very enjoyable challenge, despite its intense frustrations and hard work.  I’m not writing it for the money or the fame or the glory.  I am writing it because it is my Everest.

The fourth option is to carry on juggling, which is really the only option open to me.

So.  If you’ll excuse me.

I have work to do……

• The Book , work
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Grandad January 29th, 2008

I had to go to the village, and of course ended up at the coffee shop.

I may have mentioned this but the Anti Smoking Nazis have declared some of the tables outside to be non smoking, as some of the smoke may get inside.  How fucking moronic can you get!

I did some simple arithmetic.

Approximate volume of shop interior = 64,000 litres.

Capacity of lungs used in normal breathing = .5 litres.

So…  if I took a full lungfull of tobacco smoke and breathed it out in the shop, I would have displaced 1/128,000 of pure air with foul carcinogenic lethal fumes.

BUT

I smoke a pipe, so I only ‘exhale’ a mouthful which can’t be more than about 10ccs, or 1/100 of a litre.

so my displacement has become 1/640,000.

Even that is assuming that my exhale is pure smoke with no air involved.

So, we’ll say a 50/50 mix.  Displacement is now 1/1,280,000.  And that is assuming that 100% of tobacco smoke is carcinogenic, which it isn’t.

Now all that is assuming that I have exhaled indoors, but I’m talking outdoors.  So what percentage of my smoke is accidentally going to blow in the door?  We’ll be generous and say 10%.

So I have to sit in the windy part of the terrace, in case I pollute the air by a factor of less than one in ten million????

It’s no wonder I hate those PC Nazis.

• Smoking
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Grandad January 29th, 2008

I was going to say that it’s going to be one of those days.  But I’m too late – it already is.

It started last night when I couldn’t sleep.  I was too hot.  So I wandered around the house in my pelt [no photos - you'll have to use your imagination].  I eventually got to sleep around five.

This morning, the alarm failed to wake me, of course.  That’s because I have it buried under my pillow so Herself doesn’t get annoyed.  Its bleeping just became part of a dream.

Eventually, I got up and was making a mug of tea when my phone rang.  It was a client wanting a job done immediately.  I was fuzzy headed from sleep, so I agreed.  If I had been awake, I would have thought of a nice excuse.  Such is life. 

I was in the middle of that when Herself came in and complained about the builders next door.  She said their radio was too loud.  I said she was imagining it, but went to the front part of the house.  Jayzus, she wasn’t kidding.  You could have held a disco [or a rave, or whatever it's called these days], so I had to call in next door.  I was still half asleep, so I forgot to bring any weaponry, but they were very nice about it and switched it off anyway.  Then they told me they were getting their electricity supply changed today, and I pointed out that their supply, is also my supply, so it looks like I’m going to be without power!

I got back to find more emails from clients wanting work immediately, but I was awake enough to give them the proper answer.

Then Herself reminded me that we have to go to the village for an hour or so, so that’s the clients’ work out the window.

The only bright part to the day so far is that Sinéad Gleeson has posed an interesting question on her blog today, so I’ll think about that when I’m down in the village.

Things can only get better.

• Around the house
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