First Church of Twitter

This morning, Micah posted an interesting take on this thing we call Twitter. We've been talking about it quite a bit lately, especially since reading a fantastic article in Vanity Fair about female power Twitter users like Felicia Day. Originally, I was going to post my thoughts on the "problems" that Twitter causes and fixes, but then I realized something.

[Twitter is a Religion.]

(You heard it here first.)

At first, this conclusion might seem outlandish -- even offensive -- but mull it over for a moment.

Many people don't know the first thing about Twitter, why it's important, why it's a phenomenon, and frankly they don't much care. Much like inheriting the religion of their ancestors, they have inherited the "old-fashioned" ways of interacting with their friends and family, like talking to them on a non-mobile telephone, even if it's a cordless telephone. Those of us who grew up (or woke up) during the past two decades have migrated to using less-intrusive (if less personal) methods of contact: e-mail, Facebook, Twitter, text messaging, and Instant Message chatting -- not necessarily in that order.

How many of us even have a landline, anymore? I haven't had one in close to 10 years unless you count using my parents' for a brief stint, which wasn't technically mine (by the way, they have since began using Vonage).

Doesn't Twitter have that air of exclusivity, of elitism, about it? I tweet from my iPhone, proudly, so aren't I a yuppie geek snob? No, because Twitter is available to everyone, and it has been endorsed by the king of cool, himself: Ashton Kutcher. Kutcher, himself, has over 4.5 million Followers. He's not really the equivalent of Twitter God, though, since he doesn't really control the platform.

[Ashton Kutcher is more like Twitter Jesus.]

You can aspire to have 4.5 million Followers, but you'll never reach it. Much like the original Jesus, his perfection is unattainable -- all you can do is "follow" his example. Pun.

Twitter may only have one Ashton, but there are many we could consider saints or prophets -- real and otherwise. Felicia Day, for example, has over a million Followers. People like her pave the way for new ideas and topic trends, as prophets once did, while spammers enjoy the occasional "false prophet" moment of sending you a phishing link.

Twitter has changed our behavior, even our moral code. Until you become a prophet yourself, it behooves you to follow those who follow you (even if they are a restaurant you've never been to, and don't plan on visiting). Twitter has it's own dialect, speaking in @signs and #hashtags and ReTweets. It also has weekly rituals like #FF (or #FollowFriday) and strange cults like #ITweetNaked.

I think I've made my point.

The reason I bring this up is because I have been purposefully involving myself more with Twitter these days. A few weeks back, I linked my Twitter to Facebook so that when I tweet it automatically updates my FB status. Not only is this convenient, but it allows me to "talk" to more people than posting only to one or the other. As Micah pointed out in her post, I am attempting to promote the release (re-release?) of my book, The Ninth Avatar.

[Like any religion, I am finding with Twitter that you get out of it what you put into it.]

If you're not tweeting, no one is listening -- this should be obvious. Sometimes, though, when you are tweeting it still seems like no one is listening. The nature of Twitter is that each update is a short message, a maximum of 140 characters long. This makes for quite a few messages, nearabout 40 million per day, so it's a lot to ask for people to read or pay attention to every tweet (even though they don't see all 40,000,000 but rather just the ones from the people they follow).

I, personally, follow about 75 people and to be honest before I got my iPhone it was literally impossible to keep up with all of their messages. Even now, I end up skimming through many of them because they are responses to other users.

[Even retweeting interesting posts isn't a guaranteed path to success.]

What I'm finding is that, when you follow someone, it's likely you know each other and have similar "audiences," so if they didn't care the first time the message was posted they're not likely to care that you also thought it was important. Ultimately all it does is reduce originality in the Twitterverse, not that there is much to begin with, and not to imply that that's such a bad thing anyway.

I've been trying to engage more with the Twitter community and, in doing so, I have engaged in behavior that people complain about:

 

Namely, inane updates about what I ate, drank, or what I pulled out of somewhere

Fortunately, I think that's part of the game. Not every tweet needs to be profound, life-changing stuff. Not every tweet needs to be promotionally-minded, or even professional. Just like with actual religion, it wouldn't hurt to avoid taking it so seriously once in awhile, and remember why it exists in the first place.

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Valentine's Day 2010, my thoughts

Valentine's Day, the holiday, should truly be renamed. I know and understand the mythology behind it, so I get why it's named what it is, but I think that it causes confusion of focus. In modern day life, a "valentine" is basically a small card professing affection, usually with a superhero's or princess' cheesy catch phrase to deliver the sentiment. Or, at least, that's what they were the last time I checked, but those "valentines" are actually for children. As adults, we actually select each other to be "valentines" rather than small, lame cards.

It's fairly simple, either way, but I've known quite a few people who hated Valentine's Day. Me, personally? I've always enjoyed the holiday, but thought the kids' version with the small cards was always sort of forced. Telling someone you love them in 3rd grade may make for a happy ending in the movies, but in real life it just sets you up for a bit of 6th grade embarrassment. C'est la vie.


In my experience, people dislike Valentine's Day for three major reasons:

1. "I have no one to share it with"
2. "It is a commercialized holiday, invented solely to make you buy flowers and cards"
3. "I love my (person) every day, I don't need a holiday to do it"

The first one of these is fair enough; you can't exactly celebrate love or romance if you're 100% single and not dating anyone, unless you well and truly narcissistic, but it shouldn't make you hate the holiday. That's like hating American Independence Day (The 4th of July) simply because you weren't born here; you wouldn't begrudge others the opportunity to celebrate it, would you?

The second one makes me laugh, frankly, because it's the same excuse I hear around Christmastime (minus the flowers part). Is it so wrong for a holiday to encourage you to spend money on the one you love? Number three sort of ties in with this one, in that people shouldn't need an "excuse" to buy their loved one a gift, a dozen roses, or a nice card. It's true, they shouldn't, but sometimes (read: often) they do.

Valentine's Day is like an Anniversary anyone can remember, or at least that's the way I've always treated it. When I first met Micah, she was the kind of girl who wore black on V-Day and generally abstained from the festivities. I believed this was because she never experienced what the holiday was really about: celebrating romantic love.

Since our first great V-Day, we have tried very hard to do something fantastic for the holiday. One year, though I was sick as a dog, we stayed at a Bed & Breakfast in the mountains and had pizza and champagne -- we got away from everything and just focused on each other. Another year, we had dinner at the same place we had our wedding reception where we were Sinatra-serenaded -- one of the most romantic evenings anyone could ask for.

This year, we went to a charity event called the Valentine's Fling. Project Safeguard is the charity who puts in on; an organization that aids people affected by domestic abuse and violence. A worthy cause, to be sure. At this event there was to be a prize raffle, a silent auction, a live "big band" group, a large dance floor, fancy dinner, and two local radio personalities. They could have stopped at dancing; Micah and I have wanted to "go out dancing" for some time.

The two of us with Denise Plante, local radio personality on KOSI 101.1

It turned out to be a fantastic night; one we will definitely do again in the future. We danced our little butts off, using just about every style and trick in our repertoire that we could remember. The food was amazing and, though we didn't win anything in the raffle or bid on anything in the silent auction, the donated prizes were fun to look at.

I think the best part of it, for me, was when Micah said this was our best Valentine's Day so far. I won't go into the long explanation of why that is, but suffice it to say that we both enjoy "experiences" much more than "possessions," and that we have had some really fantastic Valentine's Days in the past (see above).

The truth is we don't need a mandated day to celebrate how much we love and treasure someone, but we should want one. Rather than a mandate, it is an opportunity. Rather than being told you must buy lame little cards, you get to choose how to celebrate, and be as creative as you want. It's a holiday that you get to define the boundaries of; so long as you are putting a smile on their face, you're doing it right.

Marketing: A Great Conversation, Part 2 of 2

As I said during Part 1, I am a person with a product to promote. I am an author, so not only is my product a lot like an invention, it is also a form of art or creative expression. Both of these things require a consumer, but

[art requires something an invention does not: an audience.]

An invention or, more blandly, a consumable product, is a purchase for use. You buy pasta to eat, make-up to beautify, and bleach to sanitize. Regardless of what their marketers would like you to think, by and large consumable products simply provide a practical application (rather than a euphoric experience). Art, on the other hand, is, as Adam Lambert puts it, for your entertainment.

Entertainment is at times wonderful, poetic, and uplifting while at other times brutally honest, horrific, and dangerous. Just as "beauty is in the eye of the beholder," precisely how entertaining something is relies on an audience to determine.

[Just as one man's trash is another man's treasure, one man's Heidi Montag is another man's Lady GaGa.]

Art is all subjective, all the time. Certain people are more- or less-likely to appreciate certain methods or "channels." Many men would find films made by the Lifetime network to be sappy, if they ever watched them, while many women avoid action films because "if you've seen one car explode, you've seen them all."

It's in this same way that things like Facebook and Twitter appeal more or less to certain people. I know people who enjoy Twitter and I know those who avoid it like the H1N1. I know people who can't live without Facebook, and I know others who are weaning themselves off of it.

Some people have iPhones, Droids, and Blackberries, while others can't understand what's so "useful" about them. Some people run Windows 7 on wi-fi capable laptops, while others run Windows 95 on a 386 with a 9600baud modem (though I hope not many).

For me, these things represent two things:
1) A path to garner an audience by communicating with as many people as possible, as quickly and efficiently as possible
2) A method to interact with that audience

It's difficult in an age of noise to inform people of what you're selling -- you run the risk of becoming part of that noise. Even if you have a high quality [art-type] product, one that would be widely enjoyed and appreciated, it might as well be a paperweight if you can't get it in people's hands and in front of their eyes.

A friend and fellow author recently told me that he believed the reason Young Adult books were so popular right now (Harry Potter, Twilight, Percy Jackson, et al.) was ultimately because publishing companies are tightly holding on to their "old" profit model. And why not? It's one they understand and has worked for them for decades.

You see, it's all about e-books and the quiet revolution they seem to be creating. I'm sure you've heard about Amazon's Kindle, Sony's Reader, and Apple's iPad, and what they do. The question, though, is would you give one of these to your average teenager, or would you rather hand them a $7 paperback?

So, while adults (at least partially) gravitate toward the more convenient, more portable electronic book, the vast majority of young adult literature is still "traditionally" published. Random House, Penguin, and Scholastic know how much it costs to produce and publish a physical book, whereas the figures on electronic books remain on a roller-coaster-ride (thanks mostly to Amazon, Walmart, and Target).

The title of this 2-part post comes from the most recent television campaign for The New York Times. They invite you to purchase "the Weekender," weekend-only delivery of the newspaper at a discounted rate, to become part of a great conversation. If you were paying attention to Apple's iPad reveal, however, you might notice something that NYT's slogan people have missed.

[Social networking, itself, is the true Great Conversation.]

If you like statistics, try these on for size: Twitter, alone, processes about 1 Billion tweets per month, an average of around 40 Million per day^source.

Growth Rate of Twitter

Add that to Facebook's 60 Million status updates per day^source (NOT including posted photos, links, etc.) and who knows how many comments and you have a lot of talking.

Twitter and Facebook certainly aren't the only social networking sites, but they are currently the largest and most talked about. Just like "real" conversation, both are free to sign up for, free to use, and only limited in scope by how much time you spend on them rather than doing other things.

So, rather than what the politicals call "stumping" (standing on a stump and announcing your product, service, or opinion), we have social networking.

The best method for changing my own personal "great conversation" into an "audience" for my book has eluded me so far, but it's in the works. I'd love to hear any thoughts about your successes, failures, agreements, and disagreements with what I've posted.

Thanks for reading.

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Marketing: A Great Conversation, Part 1 of 2

As a person with a product to promote, it's pretty much impossible to ignore social media these days. The fact that I work for a major marketing services provider only helps, since it forces me to be familiar with words/concepts like "channels" and "creative." It also forces me to stay current (or at least semi-informed) on marketing trends.

I subscribe to newsletters from sites like MediaPost and pay attention to television advertisements purely to understand who the advertisers are marketing to. The entire reason I started watching Burn Notice (which has become one of my favorite shows, by the way) is because I was curious what demographic the show was aimed at.

If you pay attention during the commercial breaks, it's not hard to figure out. For example, if you've ever watched more than one segment of a Soap Opera, you probably saw an ad for diapers. Or dish soap. Or toilet cleaner. Or "feminine hygiene products." You will not, however, see ads for beer, electronics, or tools.

Some may say this type of thing is sexist, but in fact it is just marketing. Companies know that you need to buy certain things, so they pay for advertisement time during shows watched by people who are more/most prone to buy their products. It's why many of the Superbowl advertisements were for chips and beer -- people who watch Gridiron Football eat chips and drink beer, simple as that.

Another less-than-pretty part of marketing is that it can potentially be an invasion of privacy, but only insomuch as the advertisers are trying to predict your behavior. By using what they know of your past behavior, your demographic information, and information you might provide them directly, they "guess" what you'll do or want next.

[Marketers truly are modern day fortune tellers.]

Of course, once they've settled on a prediction, their job is to steer you toward it using advertisements. In less competitive markets their job is to inform you that their product or service exists and that you should know more about whether you need it. In more competitive markets, like consumable goods, the marketer's job is to make sure you want "their" company's product.

Which is better, Pepsi or Coca-Cola?  
Nike or Reebok? Lays or Ruffles? Coca-Cola or BigK?  
Nike or New Balance? Mission or Santitas? Yoplait or Dannon?

These are semi-silly and rhetorical questions, of course. There are numerous parent/subsidiary companies; so many that some competing brands are even owned by the same company. In many cases it ultimately makes no difference which label you buy; all a marketer has to do is sell you on the product itself. Think fast food; they don't care whether you buy a Happy Meal or a Big Mac, so long as you walk through the doors.

This might sound like conspiracy theorizing or complaining, but it is neither. It took me an incredibly long time to foster an appreciation for marketing; it used to annoy me that commercials interrupted my favorite shows and plagued every radio station I listened to. Commercials, however, pay for all of it to exist in the first place.

Even if I never go to a Wendy's (and I can't remember the last time I did), their advertisement paid the actors, crew, and station employees. This is a harder pill to swallow with radio, since frankly I think modern technology has made DJ's obsolete, but the same concept does apply after a fashion.

So, what does all this mean? If you're a frequent user of Facebook and Twitter, you might already know that marketers have now invaded those spaces.

[Marketers must use whatever communication media are popular for the current age.]

Companies like McDonalds have a Fan page on Facebook. Not only is this a declarative statement that customers endorse this company and its products (they have about 1.75 million fans as of this morning), but for the company it is a way to engage (read: market to) its customers.

[21st century marketing is about selling brands.]

Marketing isn't just about selling products, and I'm not certain that it ever was. These days it goes far beyond anything our grandparents might have imagined.

A company can use its Facebook page to inform you of what they are sponsoring in your community. Your favorite band can let you know they're on tour and coming to your town. Your favorite television show might have a Fan page (and a Twitter account) so that you, as a viewer, can interact with it rather than just watch it.

This can be looked at one of two ways:
1) As a consumer, you have access to more information than ever before. A company can let you know about upcoming sales, run contests and other promotions, and interact on a wider and more immediate basis than ever before.

2) Marketers have access to your attention in more areas than ever before. Not only are you being "marketed to" while you watch television, listen to the radio, and drive your car down the freeway; now you can be marketed to while you stay current on what your friends and favorite celebrities are up to.

This truly is the age of information, but it is also the age of marketing. I'm going to end this now as Part 1 of 2; the first part being aimed more at information from a consumer's perspective while the second will be my experience from a marketer's perspective. Stay tuned.

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The Halestorm Interview

Last night, I went to the Theory of a Deadman show at the Ogden Theatre. But, to be completely honest, I wasn't there to see them, I was there to see Halestorm. This band has captivated me with their distinct, quality sound, and I was excited to see what a live performance of theirs would be like.

After two interesting opening acts, Lzzy and crew took the stage with a bluesy opening to It's not you. They brought the house down, in their way, except for frequently referencing the radio station responsible for the concert. When a band does this, I feel it is out of contractual obligation. Then again, I don't really listen to that station (or non-news radio in general).

When they finished up, I realized that I might have a decent chance of talking with the group. And why not? I may like Theory's music, but that wasn't why I came. As Halestorm retreated into the bowels of backstage, I slipped behind a few stumbling girls headed that direction and followed.

"Backstage" is an evocative word, bringing to mind all of the images Rock & Roll is famous for. At the Ogden, it was just dark, and little funky-smelling. Bands and their roadies sweat, girls like the drunk ones I was tailing spilled drinks, and there are more cables and wires than your standard server farm.

Then again, I could barely contain my excitement. The security at this show was so relaxed, I could have probably hopped up on stage at some point to read Proust aloud and the badges would have shrugged and smiled. I wasn't even frisked when I presented my ID and ticket, as I usually am at shows. Maybe it was the hat. Yeah, the hat disarmed them.

After a few "wrong rooms," catching a few backstagers making out, I came upon where Halestorm paused to decompress. With the four band members stood a tall, sweaty, bald man. He looked near enough to my age, despite his barren topper, and paused mid-sentence to look at me dubiously as I stood in the doorway.

"Who the hell are you?" the man demanded. "Where's your pass?"

I held up my hands in mock surrender, falling back on my prepared story. "Relax, I'm Press. Name's Todd Newton, I run a local music blog called Beethoven's Playlist."

The stare didn't abate, but I could tell the name of my blog had caught the attention of at least one of the band members. Lzzy, herself, raised an eyebrow my direction.

"I sold five articles to Rolling Stone in 2009," I continued. "I hope to double that for this year."

He wasn't impressed. "I scour Rolling Stone, Todd, and I've never heard of you."

I smiled. "You really think you would have? They wouldn't use my name because I wasn't on staff, but that doesn't mean they didn't buy my work. If I keep this up, by next year I could be writing for them full-time."

This was a gamble on an outright lie, but not many people have had insight to how magazine publishing works. My guess was this manager type had to be wary -- that was his job, after all.

"KBPI didn't mention anything about this."

"Look, what Stone wanted was a piece on Theory of a Deadman," I assured him, "but I'm going off the path here. I think Halestorm is the bigger story. Cover worthy. If it goes well, it goes well for both of us, know what I mean? But hey, if you guys aren't interested, it's no skin off my ass..."

"No, wait," replied the manager, "just give us a second." He turned to confer with the band members, leaving me to fidget and stare. Lzzy kept wiping matted sweat-matted hair out of her face but she said nothing. I realized I had no pen or paper, and just my iPhone as a recording device.

Ultimately it was the drummer, Arejay, who nodded assent. Things happened so quickly after that since the goal became to exit the Ogden entirely and conduct the interview away from the noise of Theory's show. I was led through the rear of the venue and out into an alley where a bus waited. It was a monster of a machine but, unlike many television shows portray, it was not painted with Halestorm's logo or cover art.

I sat on a firm couch across from all four band members still in their concert get-ups, wondering what to say. One of those intimidating moments that you weren't sure you needed to prepare for because there was a lesser chance of it actually happening than not. Slowly, I slid my iPhone out of my pocket and set it to record. Then, looking at Lzzy, I began the interview.

"This is Todd Newton interviewing Halestorm. Could you all introduce yourselves for the recording?"

They did, starting with Lzzy and going through Joe, Josh, and finally Arejay. Each of them had that exhauted glow from the performance; similar to when someone runs a marathon and doesn't outright collapse afterward. The endorphines were kicking in, and the feeling was mutual.

"First question, Lzzy, do you see yourself as a roll model for your younger fans?"

This provoked another eyebrow-raise from the vocalist. When she spoke, her voice was dry but tender, friendly; completely different than how it sounded on stage.

"I've never really thought about it."

"Really?" I asked. "With the recent push against childhood obesity, do you feel like your fame might give you a platform against it as an attractive woman?"

"What the hell kind of questions are these?" Arejay interjected. Her brother seemed a bit overprotective, but Lzzy waved him off.

I sighed. "Look, these are the kinds of questions Stone sends to ask, whether or not they use the answers is up to them. Personally, I couldn't care less. I'm more interested in things like why Arejay uses such a small drum kit, especially when he has such a great solo portion of the show. Stone wants me to ask stuff like whether you feel your attractiveness gives you a pass to sing the lyrics you do, you know?"

Both Joe and Josh shook their heads, overtly annoyed.

"Okay," I said, "this isn't working. You know what? Next time you come through Denver, you let me know in advance and we can work something out." I stood up to hand Arejay a business card then, without another word spoken, I walked out of the bus. Each step had to be slow, regular, until I got out of the alley.

When I saw the manager on his cell, I knew the clock was ticking. Safety awaited me in the throng, and when I reached it I smiled. Even after a few shouts of "Hey! Grab that guy in the hat!", I still hadn't broke into a run. They couldn't catch me.

There were too many disarming hats in the crowd.

---

This story is complete fiction. I wrote it for fun. What is true is that I attended the show last night. For the real story, visit my post on it over at Beethoven's Playlist.

Labor is no longer an expression of purpose

This is somewhat of an "essay challenge" from my wife, Micah, over at Use. The. Clutch. She presented me with this Marxist idea, a single statement, and we each will be writing a take on it.

I guess my initial response would be, "At what point was labor an expression of purpose?"

I think even when we 21st-Centurions think of the word "labor," we recall a past era. A Rosie-the-Riveter era. "Labor" brings to mind manual work, factory work; World War 2 work.

I've blogged about America before, in that it has migrated its philosophy from "an honest day's wage for an honest day's work" to "doing more with less." Nowhere can this be clearer than in the labor sector. Everyone knows the terms "outsourcing" and "offshoring" by now; partly because so many of our Technology jobs have gone to India in the past 5-7 years, but mostly because nearly all of our Manufacturing jobs have gone to China and Mexico/Central America in the past 30 years.

The Capitalist profit model, interpreted through a Walmart or Microsoft lens, demands next year's product be at or near the same quality but at a lower price. This truly is the ultimate goal of any corporation: to expand profit without severely offsetting quality. The "we only care about profit" mentality is the invention of a wronged clientele; in reality, a company must care about its customers, but only to the extent that they are confident enough to continue buying.

At any rate, back when we did our own work we took pride in it. We felt important because of it. Just ask your parents what it meant for their car to have come from Detroit. I think it's a pride similar to what the members of our Armed Forces still feel -- even if they never "went to war" or are in the reserves, they demand respect for being the defenders of the USA (or, at the very least, brave enough to step forward for the job).

Today, that pride is gone. For many of us, our job is just a job. I know that for me, personally, it's difficult to imagine myself working the same "office" position for 40 years until retirement -- but that's exactly what people used to look forward to! Perhaps not in office jobs, of course, but in labor. A mechanic or machinist, like my dad used to be, had a glorious career to look forward to until his 65th birthday when he got a nice party and a free pass to relax for 20+ years afterward. That's just not the case anymore; only about half of those of us (even those who work in the frequently-lampooned Office sector) are even saving for retirement at all!

We get out of bed in the morning focusing on the tasks, the drudgery, of our day. We are going to answer phones and send emails, possibly browsing Facebook in between one and the other. We barely have a sense of purpose at all, much less wish our job defined one for us.

So, ultimately, I agree: labor truly is no longer an expression of purpose. If you're looking for a modern expression of purpose, check your Twitter status.

Now we're cooking

Many of you know that cigars are a huge hobby for me. I enjoy them on a regular basis, usually alone but occasionally with a friend. It's a chance to relax, take a break, and just focus on the taste and aroma -- to focus on the immediacy of the senses. Sometimes I read while smoking, but more often than not I just sit there, which is why my hobby suffers during these chilling Colorado winters.

Another big hobby of mine is cooking, or at least I like to think so. Many of you know I love to grill during the summer months, and my somewhat waxing waistline is testament to how much I love food in general. But it's not really "cooking" I love so much as "creating food."

For example, you will only very rarely see me operate off a recipe. This is why I'm not a very good baker and tend to enjoy it less (even though I can actually bake things). No, I prefer to have a goal and choose my own way to reach it. Cooking sort of becomes like problem-solving in this way, and a recipe is like using someone else's solution. Besides, recipes tend to be vague, unrelentingly region- and altitude-specific, and just overall an odd concept.

[I think it's hilarious when magazines tout "simple" recipes, but then hit you with 20 ingredients, 12 of which are spices you've probably never heard of.]

No, I prefer to make up the "recipe" as I go along, completely uncaring as to whether my sandwich or pasta sauce tasted exactly like it did the last time. All I care about is whether it tastes good, which is completely up to me and whomever I serve (usually Micah). While it's true that many of my sandwiches are, indeed, exactly the same as the last one I made, my goal is to make "a" sandwich, not "that" sandwich.

Once in awhile, I will browse through the pantry cabinet, freezer, and fridge just to take stock of what I can make "food" out of. Until it is an edible "dish," like a sandwich or a plate-of-pasta-with-sauce, I see the various things in those three places as mere components. The building blocks of food.

In this way, I see cooking as a very simple process rather than a specific one. "Cooking" is itself a skill, rather than knowing how to make this or that. If you know how to cook, then you know to trust your instincts when baking a frozen pizza, or you know how to make the macaroni & cheese taste better than what following the instructions on the box will produce. If you know red sauce (and red wine) goes with red meat, and white sauce (and white wine) with white meat, the specifics of each become a matter of taste --  

[knowing how to cook means knowing how to produce something that will taste good.]

It's as simple as that. Learning that there are instances when you need to turn a burner on Medium rather than High (grilled cheese sandwiches and fried eggs, for example) or that adjusting to a lower temperature and baking for longer will allow a more complete heating experience with a less crispy bottom (frozen pizza) are parts of your personal preference. Of course, if you want burnt eggs, bland mac & cheese, or frozen-in-the-middle-burnt-on-bottom pizza, that is totally fine too.

What I love about cooking is that there aren't really "right" or "wrong" ways to do things -- there are "better" or "worse" ways, and there is "your" way. What I also love is that cooking is a fairly instinctual process to me; I've always wanted to prepare food. Not for a restaurant, or anything fancy like that, but I don't need to get paid for cooking -- the food is enough reward for me.

What I don't understand is the people on shows like Food Network's Worst Cooks in America, and how they survived to their current ages. I wouldn't classify myself as one of the "best" cooks in America, but I also don't need to. I can make a meal, with or without a recipe, that I can then proudly consume, and that's enough for me. I have accumulated knowledge over the years on how to make different things, both simple and complicated, but at the end of the day so long as I can produce a "dish" then I am happy.

What about you, readers? Do you love to cook?


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Comment: The Stormcaller

This is not a book review.

I did, however, rip off the post title from James at Speculative Horizons, as the topic is exactly the same.

Tom Lloyd's The Stormcaller is a debut fantasy novel (Book One of the Twilight Reign) that I've had in my possession for some time now. While the writing is fairly sound, I found the characters to be uninspired and a bit bland, and the overall plot to be quite confusing. To be honest, I only recently completed reading it because I wouldn't allow myself to give up -- this was my third try.

Stormcaller as I said has sound writing; Lloyd knows what he is doing when he puts fingers to keys. The issue I had was that I didn't know what Lloyd was doing when he put fingers to keys. Not only does the plot jump around, as is expected in a Fantasy novel, but the viewpoint jumped around fairly often in mid-scene (which, unless you're David Gemmell, is an ill-advised option).

Ultimately, my impression of this novel matches up with one of my biggest pet-peeves: I had no idea what was going on. Being a writer, myself, I can understand trying to balance saving some mystery for the end with spoon-feeding the reader with the intricacies of the plot. Unfortunately, when I read a book and I can't grasp the meaning of events or motivations of characters, it really turns me off.

I like to think I'm a fairly smart guy, and I can usually grasp plot threads fairly easily unless an author has hid them somewhere I neglected to look. Stormcaller made me feel this way; as if the explanations where there, staring me in the face, but I was just too dense to grasp them. As Harry Markov can attest, if I feel like the narrator (and, by proxy, the author) is the only one who knows what's going on, it raises a severe red flag to me.

As a reader, I want to be "in" on things. I want to know how the character feels and why it's important, and how that relates to their journey or struggle. With Stormcaller, I didn't feel empathetic towards any of the characters or understand precisely why they existed in the first place. Though I did finish it, I won't be reading through it again to confirm my confusion.

You might wonder why I'm bringing this up. Well, I want to know -- I want you to tell me -- if you ever feel this way about one of my stories. I want my readers to be emotionally involved with my characters precisely  because they understand the various predicaments my characters are in. If I ever write something unintentionally confounding, I'd simply like to know.

I wish Tom Lloyd the best of luck in his career, but unless someone can convince me that Book Two of the Twilight Reign is more appealing, I don't think I'll be picking it up anytime soon.