take up your pens.
The quote of the day:
Those darn poets: always up to something.
Running news:
3 miles.
Poets Anonymous: 12-step program or artistic militia? You be the judge.
If you didn't see the Frontline last week, the one entitled "Snitch," do yourself an immediate favor and watch it when it's on again in your neigborhood or get a video of it.
It's about the destruction of our civil rights under the "War On Drugs" mentality. Because one thing this episode makes clear, it isn't about drugs. The War on Drugs has led to a complete evisceration of several of our rights, including the right against unreasonable search and seizure (tell that to anyone whose property has been confiscated because it's "reasonable" to assume it was bought with drug money...guess whose definition of "reasonable" they use? That's right! The confiscator's!). The mandatory sentencing law. The expansion of the "anti-drug" laws to include "conspiracy," which adds an incredible number of years onto a sentence. Any two people who have engaged in a drug transaction have engaged in a conspiracy. The mind boggles.
The program focuses on the Feds' use of "snitches" -- first-time offenders faced with 10 years in jail are encouraged to turn in acquaintances in order to reduce their sentences. Drug kingpins can get out of doing time altogether by turning in low-level guys. People are snitching on others they've never met, just to reduce their sentences.
And people are being sent to jail without evidence. On the basis of snitches's words.
In order to protect the children, as Sen. Orrin Hatch says in this show.
Whenever somebody starts yelling about protecting the children, I reach for my wallet and a copy of the Constitution. Watch this show.
I spent much of today reviewing a friend's script. I usually review a script by setting my phaser to "kill" and firing away.
And then I start feeling bad.
"Shouldn't say that." "You might be wrong about that." "If you don't have a possible fix, what's the point of mentioning it?"
Like so many of us, I learned early on that criticism is akin to character assassination. It's hard to separate criticism of the work from criticism of the person, either when I do it or when I get criticism.
I try to criticize overall elements first: what I liked about the story, what I didn't. Where it lost me, what I didn't get. I can't be "right," I can only say what I felt. Did I like this character? Can I say why or why not? Did things stop making sense to me? If so, why? And more importantly, when?
The only verboten sin in critiquing, I think, is to say, "I didn't like it" or "This didn't work for me"...and then not say why.
Orson Scott Card has some very good comments on how to critique in "Creating a Wise Reader," a section in his How To Write Science Fiction And Fantasy. Which is a great book for writers of any stripe, including those who have never read Science Fiction or Fantasy.
I had two terrible nightmares last night: one involved giant sharks--sharks that make Bruce in Jaws look like a guppy--and the luring of such by slicing my own hand open; the other involved the house across the street being on fire and the wind being such that embers were blowing over to our house and smoldering on the roof, leading me to believe that the house would be on fire any second, but I couldn't leave until I'd finished packing a bag with a few changes of clothes.
I'm sure that both dreams are very significant, but I think what they really mean is that I shouldn't drink diet sodas right before going to bed. Or ever, really.
Darin got into this thing a while back of watching Seinfeld reruns. I've never liked the show the few times I've seen it, so I usually didn't sit with him.
Then he started watching the reruns that usually accompany Seinfeld, Friends. I watched those with him.
And now I'm hooked on watching Friends reruns.
Short, shameful confession: I have a favorite Friend. I think Chandler is hysterical. Two months ago, I couldn't tell you which one Chandler was. Now I can name all the Friends and their quirky little habits. I'm so ashamed. Hug me.
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Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com