Collateral - Act One

The thing about doing story breakdowns is they never loose their value. Doesn't matter if you've published five book or none, all of us (writers) owe it to our readers to write the best story we can write. Readers pay big bucks for novels, bigger for hardcovers. If studying movies or novels makes us better storytellers, well then maybe more readers will get their money's worth.

I still hear writers say they don't believe in analyzing their work because it threatens their creative flow of consciousness or whatever. Maybe. But even if you never run into a problem and therefore never required extra knowledge of story structure, why not understand the intricacies of your work?

If the answer is still no, then this post is not for you.

First of all, studying story breakdown is hard work. I had to put aside my normal routine of banging away on my keyboard in favour of sharing my comfy sofa with my cats and watching Collateral starring Tom Cruise and Jamie Foxx. I chose Collateral because it's good suspense; it surprised me and held my interest from beginning to end. Cruise and Foxx do an outstanding job, and both shine on screen.


Here's the breakdown of Act One:

0:05 - The movie opens with a silver-haired man walking through a crowd. We learn within seconds that he's in an airport and he's involved in some kind of clandestine situation. The scene then switches to inside a garage where Jamie Foxx's character is killing time doing a puzzle. Almost immediately we're shown that he cares about his cab and thoughts of a particular tropical island is the motivating force behind him. Also, nobody has to tell us this is LA., it's very evident.

04:50 - Four minutes and fifty seconds into the movie boy meets girl, illustrating the basic fundamentals of any story. Chance meetings will or will not change your life forever. Meanwhile, Max drives Annie into downtown LA, letting us know that it is night. Most importantly these two characters make a connection.

08:06 - Max shares his dream of Island Limos with Annie. She flashes those beautiful brown eyes at him, making an indelible impression on Max and us. Author/Director has created a character we will not forget.

10:00 - Annie shares with Max the private preparations she goes through the night before a big case begins. Reader understands why this particular girl has made an impression on Max. Their entire time together lasts 10 minutes yet we sense that this chance meeting has happened for a reason.

13:59 - Silver-haired man (Vincent) is on the down escalator and passes Annie on her way up the escalator. This contrasts Max and Annie's meeting because they don't notice each other. We'll still privy to the question: is Max the connection between them?

14:13 - Max is in la-la land thinking about Annie when Vincent approaches his cab. When Max doesn't immediately acknowledge him, Vicent turns to the next cab. Max quickly calls to him, a small, insignificant gesture, yet marking the incident event of the opening. If Max hadn't met girl, he wouldn't have been parked at that specific spot when Vincent exited the federal building.

(Even I don't pick up on everything. I've watched this movie 4x and I still don't get why Vincent was there. If you know, pls let me know in the comments. Thanks)

Let's summarize. Less than 15 minutes into the movie (chapter one of novel) we meet the hero, know the theme is that chance meetings can drastically change your life, see love interest, see set pieces or plants (ie Annie's business card) and witness central story question, to name just a few. We suspect Vincent is the antagonist, thereby experiencing tension, possible conflict and suspense. We wonder if this chance meeting between Vincent and Max will improve upon Max's circumstances.

15:38 - another important hint, this time Vincent remarks about a dead man on subway for 6 hours before anyone notices him.

17:00 - Vincent reveals his schedule, and we learn the time frame of story: present until 6 a.m..

17:40 - this is where the story changes directions. Vincent entices Max with money to drive him to his 5 appointments the rest of the night. This is where Max finally connects with Vincent.

17:58 - Vincent makes his first stop and tells Max to park in the back. This dramatically alternates events.

19:10 - Dead man falls from apartment and lands on cab. A few seconds later, Act One climax, the incident that answers the story question? The answer is NO. Vincent is a hitman. Consequently, we are hooked on knowing what will happen next. And as Max comes to terms with what has just happened, Act One ends and Act Two begins.

* For more on screenwriting tricks for authors, check out author of The Unseen, Alexandra Sokoloff's blog.

I'll be back this week with Act Two's breakdown.
--
joylene

Story Breakdown

I'm in the middle of doing movie plotting exercises because I've hit a wall with my work-in-progress. II'm hoping they'll spark some ideas. Monday, I watched Get Carter twice in one day to see if I could pinpoint its turning points.



Get Carter is about an enforcer for the Las Vegas mob going home to attend his brother's funeral. It stars Sylvester Stallone and is directed by Stephen Kay. If you're into screenwriting, you must purchase a copy. Under Special Features, Mr. Kay does a complete audio commentary of the movie. He explains every aspect of the film, from cutting scenes to camera angles to inserting clues. IOWs, he explains why his filmed the story the way he did. Excellent free invaluable lessons for any one interested in writing a great story.

Alexandra Sokoloff, author of The Unseen, does story breakdowns regularly on her blog. She's an excellent teacher and she usually covers stuff that I'm struggling over. After reading the breakdown she did on Chinatown, I tried to find a copy of the movie in my area. So such luck. Of course, I'll end up ordering one online only to see it in every store I visit next week.

But, I digess. Because I follow Alexandra's blog regularly, I decided I'd take her up on the exercises. I watched Get Carter and jotted down what the three Acts were, what happened every 15 minutes of the movie and what the big climax at the one hour mark was. She suggests you keep an eye on the DVD's clock because most films follow a strict formula.

Sure enough. After the first 15 minutes Jack Carter had learned that his brother was murdered. In fact, every 15 minutes another turning point took place. An hour into the film the big climax occurred. Jack discovers who killed his brother and why. He also discovers more than he bargained for.

I found the same formula in The Replacement Killers. I'm watching Collateral next and after that, Point of No Return, then Panic Room, etc etc. I might stop at 10 movies before I return to my WIP. More than likely, I'd start at the beginning and do line edits in the interim.

I should probably come clean and confess that formulas didn't sit well with me at first. I was under the impressive, for quite a few years, that formulas ruined originality. Silly me. I've come to appreciate the recipe for a good book, just like a good director does when he makes a movie.

15 minutes into a novel is comparable to the first one-third (75-100 pages) of a book. The climax happens around page 200 - 300, depending on the length.

A lot of writers write without understanding the mechanics of writing. More power to them. Me, I need to understand all of it. After publishing Dead Witness, I knew I owned it to myself to hone my skills. Even if it means going over and over the same old thing. Remembering that novels can be broken down into 3 Acts, prompts me to understand every intricate part of writing a novel.

Act One introduces the protagonist and the problem. Act Two is a series of complications that increase the conflict and adds minor crisis to the story. Act Three reveals the plot and answers the story question. Act Four ties everything together. That's just the basics, but it's a good place to start.

I'm only up to page 71 (35,300 words) in my WIP, but I'm able to rough in an outline of the three acts. I'm focusing on the three acts. I know not every writer can write that way, and while I didn't do that for my previous 5 manuscripts, it seems to be working this time.
--
joylene

People Pleasers

This week in the news we've learned...brushing our teeth promotes good oral health, that cats control people, that there's a scary new security threat for PCs and that Mel Gibson has a new passion.

Are you a people pleaser? Yes. No. Don't know.

Here's a sure-fire way to find out:

Do you thank and tip your hairdresser for a haircut that makes you look like you have your finger in an electrical socket?

Do you smile and say to the apologetic person who rams you with a grocery cart, 'No harm done' when your heel feels like it's on fire and might even be broken?

Do you smile and step aside for the customer who cuts you off short to get before you in line?

If you answered yes to all of the above (I did), then you're a people pleaser.

I received my first review for The Canted Curse. Here's what the reviewer had to say: I was drawn into Blossom’s life from the very start....Canted Curse is spell binding, full of love and mystery. The characters really draw you in. From Blossom’s pet mouse to her elderly friends you will find plenty to love about this book. Blossom and Fin are characters that I won’t soon forget.

A good review, I thought, and remember in a perfect world, St.Patrick's Day would be the 17th of every month, Crimestoppers would be broadcast live, people would not talk about how fresh they felt, and faucets would run hot, cold and lager.

Have a wonderful Wednesday, everyone!

Bliss is signing off.

Ta.

Brainwave

Hiya folks!

My fingers, poised on the keyboard, patiently await a brainwave. But for the thought that it's my turn to blog and I have nothing to say, my mind is empty. Perhaps the reason is because it's a dull and dreary Monday morning.

Does inspiration come from the heart or from the mind?

My first novel, A Battle of Wills, will be available soon in print. The artist did a superb job on the cover (I'll include a photo, if I can find it on my computer). The sequel, With Malicious Intent, will be released shortly thereafter.

Just recently, I reread a story I'd written that I thought at the time was perfection. Not! There's always room for improvement. That's not a revelation. What is, though, is that writing guidelines change. Who makes these changes? Who decides, for instance, "as she/as he" constructions should be avoided like the Swine Flu? Does it begin with a pet peeve and escalate from there?

One guideline I haven't heard in a while, is RUE (resist the urge to explain). I can't say I ever had that problem. If anything, I could explain a bit more. Sometimes I go from A to C then all the way to G. I'm thankful for my editors who catch these things. LOL

Does perfection make sense? Perhaps to the following house owner it does.

~~~Owner of Perfect House Lives in Car -- September 18, 2002 - Baltimore, USA

In fear of possibly disturbing the perfection that is his house, Donald Manison has been forced to live in his 1998 Dodge Caravan. �I became obsessive, everything in the house was so photo-perfect that I was eventually scared of walking on the carpet in fear that I might disturb the direction of the carpet threads.� Magazines wanting a glimpse and photos of the perfect house were limited to viewing through opened ground floor windows. When asked how long he will continue his present lifestyle he replied, �If living in my mini-van is payment for a perfect house, I�m willing to pay.�

~~End of Article.

Have a super day, everyone!



Ta,
Bliss

Inspiration

Inspiration

I watched Michael Jackson’s funeral yesterday, and I was considerably more impressed than I had planned on letting myself be! The people who performed were inspiring, and those who spoke seemed to speak from their hearts. Maya Angelou’s poem, “We Had Him,” recited by Queen Latifah, was articulate and so moving. And Germaine Jackson’s rendition of Michael’s favorite song, “Smile,” broke my heart. What I really came away with, though, was a feeling of inspiration, the feeling that any one of us can make a significant difference in this world. Most won’t change things globally the way Michael did, but all can change things in some way for the better. So, thank you, Michael and friends.

For me, one of Michael’s many gifts was that, as a performer, he gave of himself completely. Watching him, I always got the sense that nothing was held back, that I was seeing everything he had to give. He seemed shy and guarded in interviews, but absolutely honest and “out there” on stage. When I watch him perform, I feel that I, too, can throw my heart out there and not worry about what others might think.

As I thought about Michael, I began to recall other inspiring things. In the movie “Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont” (based on the book by Elizabeth Taylor, the author, not the actress) Mrs. Palfrey mourns her dead husband but thanks him for forcing her to discover that she is capable of moving forward on her own. She finds strength because she has no other choice, but finding it is a good thing.

Laura Moriarty’s book “The Rest of Her Life” shows that an individual can keep her integrity against the greatest odds, if she just believes in herself and refuses to listen to anyone who does not share that belief.

Kathleen McGowan’s “The Expected One” taught me – through the gospels of Mary Magdalene – that what we think we know may have been shaped and twisted by various, conflicting histories. And at times the most relevant account is the one that, because of politics or power, we never see. Thank you, Kathleen, for inspiring me to dig deeper.

President Obama inspires me in the way he forges his own path. Political “common sense” of the past said that a powerful country dictates. It need not communicate with its enemies. Obama is smart enough to realize that we must know our enemies, and we must understand them and they us if we want to salvage any chance of reconciliation.

Michael J. Fox possesses a fierce determination; he has forced his spirit to overcome the confines of his physical self. Once a person who led a charmed life, he never allowed himself to feel entitled or to become complacent. I find that so inspiring.

Now that I’m on a roll, I see inspiration everywhere. My dog, Red, shows me that you never give up, even if the bad guy is a cougar that outweighs you by 100 pounds. Blue and Red have both taught me that determination pays off – in table treats and yummies.

So, Michael Jackson, I am sorry that you died. But I am inspired by your talent as a songwriter, singer, and dancer – and by your pluck in living your life as you saw fit. I thank you for that gift.

-Judy

"Up" Things

Some days I feel like Maria in The Sound of Music, recounting my favorite things. “Girls in white dresses with blue, satin sashes. Snowflakes that fall on my nose and eyelashes. Brown paper packages, tied up with strings…”

For me, the true function of poetry, literature, and film is to inspire. And I find there are poems, books, and movies which I count among my favorite things. They pick me up when I need a boost, affirm my optimism when I don’t.

Thomas Hardy’s poem, The Darkling Thrush, is one that needs to be shared. It’s all about courage in the face of daunting odds. It’s hero is a bird, but he reflects the human condition so beautifully. Listen…

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings from broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp feature seemed to be
The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice outburst among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carollings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy goodnight air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
and I was unaware.

Thomas Hardy (England, 1840-1928)

Wow! That one gets to me every time. I want to be that thrush, seeing hope where others don’t, and shouting it out to the world.

-Judy

A Hot Time on the Rez

Last Sunday, June 28th, dawned cloudy, with the promise of wind and rain later in the day. I got up at 5:30, was in the car by 6:45. Code Talker Chester Nez’s family had invited me to join them for a celebration in honor of Chester, to be held on the checkerboard potion of the Navajo Reservation, south of Gallup, New Mexico, USA. I crossed my fingers, hoping we wouldn’t mire in New Mexico’s famous mud.

I knew it would be a memorable day, but still, I was worried. Would there be a good crowd to greet Chester? Would he feel comfortable, appreciated? In writing his biography, I’d grown to really care about him. As one of the “original twenty-nine” – Code Talkers who’d designed the doubly-encrypted code that contributed heavily to the United States’ victory over Japan in World War II – he was regarded by many as a hero. But I thought of him as a friend.

More self-centered thoughts crowded into my head, as well: Would I fit in? Would I do or say something stupid?

Mike Nez, Chester’s son, drove my car so I wouldn’t get lost. Mike’s son, Michael, drove the Nez truck with Chester, senior Mike’s wife Rita, and Mike and Rita’s grandson Emory as passengers. We made a tiny caravan.

The ride out to the reservation was filled with sweeping vistas of distant mountains and closer mesas, all colored in a thousand shades of red and purple and tan. The sun, slanting through heavy cloud cover, transformed familiar landmarks into burnished jewels. As we approached Chichiltah, Chester’s childhood home, pinon and ponderosa pines grew abundant. Rock outcroppings emerged from hills like fabulous sculptures.

We spied the blue-and-white striped tent from the main road. It sat on the side of a hill, and we approached on a dirt track through sparse grass. Scattered around were small houses and indeterminate out-buildings. A lone outhouse, its door lying on the ground, sat near the top of the hill.

Mike senior helped 88-year-old Chester from the truck into the wheelchair that had become his transport back in March, after his left leg was amputated mid-calf. The two nephews who had arranged the shindig, Raymond and Johnny Gray, greeted us. Inside, chairs and tables filled the circus-sized tent. American flag pennants graced the dais in front, and the U.S. flag popped up everywhere – on people’s clothing; decorating the tables laden with food; arranged in patriotic, party-favor “bouquets;” and splashed across the napkin ties.

Four Navajo military men dressed in camouflage marched in, carrying the US flag, the New Mexico flag, the Navajo Nation flag, and the black POW/MIA flag. Everyone – older women dressed in the traditional velvets and squash blossom necklaces, children in jeans and tee shirts – jumped up from their chairs. Chester stood, unwavering, on his one whole leg, his arm raised in a salute, while Miss Navajo Nation, Yolanda Jane Charley, sang the Star Spangled Banner in Navajo. Then the more than 100 attendees, myself included, lined up and filed past Chester, shaking his hand and thanking him for fighting for us. I snapped shot after shot with Mike’s digital camera.

Various men and women joined Chester and Mike senior on the dais. Zonnie Gorman, daughter of deceased Code Talker Carl Gorman, spoke about the men’s WWII mission. Although Zonnie used English, most spoke in Navajo. Somehow, the speakers were riveting, even though I couldn’t understand their words.

A small army of women and girls served up a sumptuous home-cooked dinner, complete with fry bread, corn pudding, and mutton stew. There must have been a hundred or more guests, and each plate was heavily laden. After the meal, mints were passed out in tiny packets adorned with – you guessed it – American flags.

Families posed with Chester for photos, everyone looking proud. People brought colorful gifts, including a plaque of thanks from Navajo Tribal chairman Joe Shirley.

A live band struck up country western songs outside the tent’s wide entrance. Sudden thunder, a quick shower, and winds that shook the tent dampened no spirits. A small herd of sheep and goats calmly climbed the hill.

Everywhere people laughed and joked. I’d heard of the famous Navajo sense of humor, and today it was abundantly evident. Nearly everyone I met made a good-humored comment, making me feel welcome. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Well into the afternoon, Mike senior noticed that Chester, sitting at the center of the dais, looked tired. He asked me to check with him, to see whether he was ready to go home. Chester shook his head. “I’d like to stay a while longer,” he said.

-Judy

Onward and Upward?

I had planned to talk about mercy and clients in the face of getting stressed out, but I find I'm passed that--for the moment (it may come back) but I wanted to talk about a few other things. I posted this article on my personal blog, but have reworked it a bit for here.

Life is full of challenges and choices. Are you one that usually shies away from trying anything new or different? I can't say that I am although I will admit I don't readily jump into the fray, either.

The last few weeks have been challenging for me and presenting me with new opportunities.

As a freelance writer and editor, it is up to me to find work to support my family. Thankfully, many of the projects I work on are people that have come to me (you may have your theories on how that happened, but my heart tells me it's not coincidence). Little did I know a connection I made a couple of years ago would turn into a career opportunity. I met this lady through another writer friend who hosted a cookout for some of her writing friends. Carole was then an editor for BeWrite Books. I had her edit a portion of one of my WIPs. A couple years later, I learned from this same friend that Carole had started a publishing company. I contacted her to see if there was an editorial position available. A few months later I found out there was and I was able to fill the slot.

A year later, due to some confusion, it was decided that I would be "downsized". I thought this would be the end of my association, until a message posted on their "admin" site announced that one of their Editors-in-Chief was leaving--incidentally, the one that had downsized me. I took the chance, resting on the fact I had known Carole before, and asked to be considered to fill in the EIC position. The next day I had an interview and found out that I was their top candidate and had tailored a new position just for me! Notice came out yesterday that the other EIC is also leaving (I knew this at the interview, but it was only official, yesterday). My new position is Project Manager for Lachesis (Legasis) Publishing, looking after making sure all the edits are done, covers are done and things are ready to go to print.

It took me a good week to get over the shock!

Then with church, I had taken a membership course that studied my gifts, skills and talents for the purpose of seeing where those gifts, skills and talents could be used in ministry. I consider myself extremely fortunate that I'm in a church that doesn't shy away from taking on new ministry ideas to accommodate and use the talents God has given us.

I have known for a while what my talents, skills and gifts are (music, writing, teaching), but in considering which talents I would like pursue primarily I was rather surprised at where the Lord was leading me--surprised in that I thought my primary desire was to do something else. I have decided to pursue writing and editing for our church primarily. I will also be doing some lay counselling and mentorship to other moms, perhaps looking towards running a support group for those moms who have lost babies/children. I'm still deciding on a few other things particularly related to writing: perhaps establishing a book store, a printing press for sermon help notes, and editing sermons series into books themselves.

Talk about stepping out. There are lots of changes coming...including just this week as I try to get a handle on my new position and still manage the two major projects I have (with another possibly coming this week), three minor projects starting up this week, three new editing projects (haven't received the manuscripts, yet) and one major one starting on the 15.

Well, must get going with all that on my plate. In the meantime, I want to leave you with some encouragement to step out in faith and accept the challenges that come your way. I'm not one that believes in coincidence. I believe everything happens for a reason--although you may not understand those reasons until later. You never know where they're going to lead. So long as you learn from your actions and inactions, you have not failed. Don't be afraid to take the chance.

"And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance..." (Leeann Womack, "I hope you Dance")

The Challenge of Time Management

It is something that everyone faces and has to learn to deal with--time management. Whether you're working outside the home or inside the home; work shift work or 9 to 5; are a mother, father, or grandparent.

Managing time often involves "delegating" tasks to some willing soul because, let's face it, we can't do everything, as much as we would like. This becomes an increasingly challenging issue when you're a work-at-home mom with no one to delegate to.

When I first started working from home, I was afraid I wouldn't have the discipline to work from home. Fortunately, I'm a person that thrives on a routine schedule and I had established that quite firmly from working for 2 1/2 years as an Administrative Assistant/Officer in the Senate of Canada. I took that work ethic home with me.

But there, time management was relatively simple. Other people were busy, too, and worked just as long and hard as I did. Working at home, though, was different.

No longer am I still being paid no matter if I sit at my computer screen all day, or spend a couple minutes visiting with someone. I didn't have to make up time missed at doctor's appointments and such. Since many people were on the same schedule, they didn't demand time away from my tasks, and actually I often welcomed their interruption for a brain break.

Now, I'm "locked" in a little room with people coming and going at virtually all hours, with only three people out of four that really seem to understand my work schedule. Brent doesn't know, since he's only 10 months, about this schedule, but his feeding schedule and naps have worked perfectly (for the most part) around my schedule. I couldn't have asked for a better tempered baby in that regard.

Chris--my teenage (YIKES!!!)--has learned to recognize when I'm caught up in something and knows to leave me alone. He's at the age now where he pretty much entertains himself. I only have to worry about whether or not he's used soap and shampoo and deodorant!

Gabby--the dog--has also learned my habits. She's learned not to disturb me when I'm working. She curls up in a chair or couch and waits for me to head to the kitchen, then she knows it's time to go out.

My husband, on the other hand, has taken a lot longer to train. He often has the "but you're home all day" mentality. I once told him the most insulting thing you can say to a stay-at-home- or work-at-home-mom is that phrase. I have to explain to him time and again, that I just can't up and leave and do things. I don't get days off and if I do I have to sacrifice something else to make up the time. I have deadlines to make in agreements and publishing contracts, and if I don't keep those customers get cranky and I lose money.

He's also not the type that just steps in when he's home and takes care of things while I'm working--this is probably what frustrates me the most. The baby is whining and fussing because his diaper needs to be changed and he's hungry. But, my husband still asks: "What's wrong?" I tell him, and does he take care of things, no. He may take Brent into the kitchen to keep him occupied in a dirty diaper, and waits until I'm ready to feed him. He's stopped planning meals like he once did, too. Instead of starting dinner, I often emerge from my office to him checking his forums.

He hasn't really saved me any time or hassle by looking after Brent because the underlying issues still need to be taken care of. I guess my husband hasn't learned the concept of multi-tasking. You plan things so that while one thing is taking care of itself, you complete another task--well, okay, he does that. But, not quite the way I would like.

He often does the laundry, and takes care of the cars and the outside things that need to be done, but it doesn't really take much pressure off me, because I'm still looking after everything else. I suppose it's my OCD nature and the fact I know something often gets missed--if you want it done right do it yourself. If I need to delegate something, it's usually to my teenager because he's home more and knows how I do things.

Do any of you experience these types of things with your spouses or significant others? Do they understand the freelancing life? My husband is just starting to get it, which is good because my hours are getting longer and longer, in light of the backlog created when he badgered me into outings I couldn't really afford time-wise, and the four days that my 10-month-old was sick.

How do you deal with clients in such circumstances.....oh, but that's for another blog post!

Confinement and Re-education

I have to report my escape from the strange world of the city yesterday, but I had to leave a hostage. Spouse has decided to remain in order to watch over her sibling. This was made possible by two things – Spouse’s sibling phoned the BMW dealer and arranged for us to come and rescue his car, so she has transportation – then, I took his unmanageable dog home with me so that its exuberance doesn’t send him back to the hospital. (We had warned him against getting a puppy of a large breed, but he never listens to us. Consequently he has an untrained monster on his hands ... well, on my hands now.)

Our two dogs and I are engaged in turning this two year old lunatic into something resembling a household pet, by various means according to species. They have made it abundantly clear that they will not allow it to use its superior size to dominate them, so it’s beginning to learn dog manners. I have managed to get it to go out to the garden when I let the others out – no mean feat as S’s S has to go out on the step and plead for it to do it’s chores outside the house. I also brought a dog bed with us (actually the spread from S’s S’s bed where it usually sleeps) to establish a ‘place’ for it and manage to get it to stand on it (sometimes even sit on it) before being fed. It knows it is not allowed on any furniture nor to enter my bedroom (which has the door open because the other dogs move from beds outside to beds inside (and vice versa) during the night) and is attempting to transgress this less often. Of course this is an endeavour at least a year and a half too late, but we seem to be making a little progress.

Now, if only one could extend the same remedial training to the psycho department at the hospital, a number of future patients could have better experiences than he has had. I’m sure the psychos who were assigned to S’s S were trained in a CIA torture site. I mentioned earlier in the week about him spinning them a story when he became tired of their questions. Spouse was right – they exercised their revenge at the first opportunity.

Surely, if information extraction is not the purpose the ‘prisoner’ is confined, these people would be trained to recognize that confining a formerly free person to immobility, hindering his sleeping, performing unexplained actions upon him, keeping him completely in the dark about their intentions and activities, and bombarding him with meaningless questions is the first move undertaken in the softening-up procedure for psychological torture. The CIA sure trained these two very well for that.

Nobody in the cardiac intensive care ward bothered to tell him – or us – what was actually going wrong with his heart, and what they expected to do about it. They offered nothing but the vague statement that his worsening diabetes had affected his heart. I believe we are all reasonable intelligent citizens – who at least know how to spell cardiac. With my own doctors – the naturopath I value and the MD who I keep on a tight leash (actually he’s a cut above all the others – he trained and practiced before in S. Africa) – have to discuss everything with me before I consent to their recommendations. I believe in the patient being an active partner – even if it means researching medical guff that one previously avoided. After all – whose health is it?

They had him on 6 different IVs at a time for two days, and all that poison was working unknown havoc during that time. He woke one night and in moving accidently (or maybe it wasn’t an accident) pulled out those on one arm. The following night he woke early in a very confused state and pulled them all out deliberately. When we arrived they had him in restraints and the nurse told us that the psychos had committed him. He was having a really bad trip.

When I went in to see him, he asked me for my pocket knife to cut himself loose. I told him I didn’t have it – which he probably didn’t believe as he knows I always carry a Swiss army knife. He told me that this wasn’t actually the hospital but a fake one run by these aliens – in some unknown location. He needed to escape to go and tell the police. I was hesitant about letting Spouse see him in that state, but she went in anyway. He called her a traitor for not helping him escape. I managed to get Spouse downstairs before the security arrived to hold him down so they could tranquillize him.

Contemplating the events and looking at things from the point of view of someone who had gone into hospital for what he was told were tests – it wasn’t completely unreasonable to suspect that their explanations were not what they were reputed to be. We all live in a mental model of the world around us, rather than supposed ‘undiluted’ reality. Nothing we know or experience comes into our minds without being processed and interpreted within our brains. I will agree that Spouse’s sibling has created a very personal model of the world he lives in, by dismissing everything around him that he doesn’t like. (He never owned a credit card until recently, when he discovered no one would rent him a car without one, and his own vehicle had been towed to the dealer). It was a very idiosyncratic world, but it was working for him – until the psychos at the hospital kept probing at it with their questions and proving it (to their idiosyncratic model of the world) to be deficient.

Waking up in the night I lay thinking that it really is a very fine line between believing our own mental processes and observations and accepting the words of a group of people who claim to know better than you do. How far was his reaction from my own at being thrust into the alien (and ridiculous) environment of the city against my will? Are we humans dreaming of being butterflies or are we butterflies dreaming we are humans? (Thanks, Kafka)

Luckily, on our next visit he had been asleep for 24 hrs and had a wise nurse to greet him when he woke. She offered him a bargain – “you don’t rip out the IVs and I’ll take the restraints off you”. Her good sense worked and he was mostly on his way back to normal when we saw him – and very apologetic at going off the deep end. She did say that he was still suspicious, and testing her and her answers. She even told us the most information we had ever been given – none of the doctors of the ‘team’ looking after him had so much as given us the time of day, even though we had asked to be informed. Yes, he had a heart valve that had been close to quitting and his heart hadn’t been able to pump hard enough to raise and expel the water that was settling in his lower limbs.

The day after that he was his old self – they reduced the IVs to three and then one, and they moved him from the CICU to a care floor lower down the building. He’s hoping to be discharged Friday, with a whole suite of new medications and home testing procedures that will keep him healthier. Whether he will ever be able to look after himself in his own house much longer is a matter of deep speculation. And as for the dog – I haven’t dared tell ours we might be lumbered with her.

Strange Creatures

We had to bring our two dogs to this otherworldly place - not that it is a really suitable habitat for dogs, but because we could not allow them to fend for themselves while we were gone. They are a species that has completely adapted to living with aliens, but have not yet evolved the neccesary adaptions needed to work door handles and can openers. Having them with us, however, enables us to gain a whole new insight into the odd compromises with reality the human species has made here.

I'm reminded of a visit to Lost Wages some years ago - well, it wasn't the actual destination but we decided to stop over a couple of days as we passed by. Taking a dog for a walk in an environment more suitable for the dog - actually along the edge of a golf course on a vacant lot, and behind one of the imitation royal palaces designed to soften the mental processes of those drawn to its attractions - enabled me to observe much that people whizzing past on the streets missed. One example will suffice; behind this opulent (well, gaudy) palace and in the trees and shrubbery at the edge of the golf course property, dog investigated a large cardboard packing case to find that some human actually lived in it. Dog was quite impressed because she had a far better kennel back home.

But to get back to the current situation. This alternate world has attempted to provide some semblance of order for the dogs residing with the denizens. Our dogs had visited one designated 'off-leash dog run area' previously, but found it much less suitable this time. Where it used to be a somewhat wild and unstructured space, some nincompoop with more free time than brains has produced a new 'plan' for it. Of course, not a single aspect of the plan has raised the value of the area for dogs, but I'm sure the officials of officialdom must find it far more impressive.

Our younger dog now hates it. In the process of fencing off areas for planting and path building, they have squeezed the dog path much closer to the adjacent lunatic speedway. She finds the noise level not only unpleasant but - coupled with the glimpses of inexpertly directed masses of painted metal - positively frightening. Going north she can handle it - she gets to see the retreating machines with her good eye. On the way back they appear to be speeding toward her, and she has only limited vision in her right eye. I have to put her on leash to walk beside me - using my legs as a partial screen - and encourage her continuously. She periodically cringes down into the longer grass and shakes until calm enough to continue.

The other animal species present is also reacting to stress. One has to wonder why the authorities here lay out such a catastrophe waiting to happen as the lunatic speedway. The poor creatures directing these overabundant machines are confined and marshalled by lights, signs and haphazardly arranged blocks of concrete for hours - and even a mile or two - every day of their lives. The degree of concentration required to avoid contravening some rule, or hitting one of the other machines is so high as to make it almost impossible to carry on a simultaneous conversation on the cell phone. The level of stress must reach boiling point ... and then they are set loose upon the relatively free - I'd say leash-free - expanse of the lunatic speedway.

Compare them to a dog when the human attendant appears in outdoor garb and holding a leash. Beyond that, to any other species - a horse when the stable door is opened, cattle when the ramp at the back of the cattle liner clangs down, the falcon when the hood is removed - they dash toward the open spaces. Is traffic engineering supposed to be closed entirely to studies of animal behaviour?

I have to comment that the level of machine skills displayed on these free-for-alls is completely deficient. One has to hope that when all personal transportation is weaned off poisonous and climatically incompatible fuels, and we might look forward to the peaceful hum of electric motors instead, the new machines will be totally impractical at, and incapable of maintaining, speeds of above 40mph. This is actually the speed at which the two curves ... of operator competence and of catastrophe avoidance meet. It is also conducive to a far less stressful environment, and coupled with a reasonably capable design of automatic guidance it could even return these poor urban denizens to the wonderful days when one could sleep off a drinking binge upon the buggy seat while old Dobbin found his own way back to the barn.

Of course, one must expect howls of outrage from those who imagine their importance to be so great as to render the whole of society at peril while they are engaged in transiting from A to B. But while the electronic dobbin is guiding their machine, the resulting quiet and safety will be more conducive to fielding those vitally important communications from the President, or God, that we see in progress during today's madhouse. In some ways life is just a catastrophe waiting to happen - but why would one want to speed up the process?

Spouse’s sibling is doing much better now, and we can even contemplate some time when we might be beamed back home. Actually, I will go home and take his lunatic dog with me so it doesn’t knock him over (and similar excesses) when he is discharged. During visiting hours yesterday evening I suggested a trade – his dog for his sister. Spouse was not impressed.

In hopes that I can send the next post from home – oops. I almost forgot. I found a note from Dream Realm awards on my webmail this morning – my SF novel Arrival is one of four finalists for the 2009 DR in the SF category. One of the remaining three is another DDP author, so our publisher should be happy. He’d better be. See you in cyberspace ...