A little while ago, I received the edits for the manuscript I sold to EDGE Publishing some time ago. The edits are of three types: formatting changes (em dash, font, spacing, and general typesetting stuff); consistency of style (for instance: spelling out digits, capitalization of specialized nouns in the parlance of the novel, etc.); and what I'll call "story problems."

The first two are largely easy to resolve. I am engaged in a conversation about the past perfect tense ("I had gone to Disneyland before my brother did") as opposed to simple past ("I went to Disneyland before my brother did") but otherwise, those edits are going quite smoothly. I am happy to oblige my editor in this.

As to the story problems...

Let me put it this way. I spend a significant portion of my day grading student essays. I write COPIOUS notes for each student when I give back the essays, and my kids say that this helps a great deal, damn them. It means I can't really stop doing it. If any of my students are reading this, know that I, too, get notes on my writing. So kids, you're not alone. Even I, the Great and Powerful O, gets told when his writing isn't as good as it could be.

I really am grateful for the comments. I know the stereotypical view of the writer is some kind of crazed genius (I'm only half that) who refuses to be rewritten or corrected. My prose is golden--GOLDEN, I SAY!--and no one no how will tell me what to fix!

The truth is much different, at least, for me. I welcome my editor's comments. Sure, I won't agree with all of them. And we'll talk, and I'll present my case, and she'll present hers, and the stronger idea will win out. I'm sure she'll capitulate on points she isn't terribly invested in, as I will on points about which I lack passion. Most of the time, the give-and-take on the manuscript works, and if done right, can strengthen the work. An editor's job is to help the storyteller, well, tell the story as best he or she can.

Approaching this process with that mindset can result in a stronger work, and how can I refuse that?

Oh, on another note, the publisher wanted a writeup on the main character's appearance for cover art, so I expect to get a look at that soon.

Be seeing you!

Once again, we find ourselves trying to grapple with evil that lives among us. I wish I could say I feel for the victims and their families. I can’t--I don’t know what feelings will help them. They don’t know me, I don’t know them. I try to imagine my own feelings if someone I loved were gunned down, and I can’t. I weep for them, for their innocence, for the world in which they live. This was not a natural disaster, or a disease--this was not the Universe striking down one of the souls who populates this blue marble. We did this ourselves. Humanity failed.

A 28-year-old Australian citizen named Brenton Harrison Tarrant killed at least 50 people on Friday, March 15, 2019 in Christchurch, New Zealand. He walked into two mosques and killed those praying and engaging in religious services.

He also electronically published a lengthy manifesto, and part of what he did in that manifesto was do a sort of “question and answer” section. In that section, he explicitly says this was a racial attack. This point is made clear--not from inference or supposition, but by his own direct comment. He also says directly that this was a terrorist attack. There is no interpretation needed, as if his actions didn’t speak loudly enough.

Furthermore, he said he was a supporter of Donald Trump as “a symbol of renewed white identity and common purpose.” He added also, “the person that has influenced me above all was Candace Owens. Each time she spoke I was stunned by her insights and her own views helped push me further and further into the belief of violence over meekness. Though I will have to disavow some of her beliefs, the extreme actions she calls for are too much, even for my tastes.”

All of that was context. Here’s what I am not saying, nor taking a position on in this entry. I will not claim here that Trump or Owens, or even the right wing in the U.S. is responsible for what Tarrant did. I may one day write my thoughts on that, but I won’t do it here.

Instead, I am wondering: if I were named thusly in a manifesto written by a terrorist--if I read that a terrorist claimed to have been inspired by me, or indeed was a supporter of my ideology--I would be horrified almost beyond my capacity to express. I can not imagine the feeling that would engender. Knowing that a deranged mass murderer took me as an example would throw everything I am into question. It would certainly make me examine my own actions. I don’t think any amount of self-talk, or support from even those whom I admire and respect, could eliminate the feelings of guilt and remorse, even if they were unearned, I would have. It would devastate me, possibly break me forever.

Trump, on the other hand, has said nothing of consequence. His lackeys have said “it’s absurd to connect him to this,” even though the murderer directly did so. Owens went a step further: ““LOL! 😂 FACT: I’ve never created any content espousing my views on the 2nd Amendment or Islam. The Left pretending I inspired a mosque massacre in…New Zealand because I believe black America can do it without government hand outs is the reachiest reach of all reaches!! LOL!”

Putting aside for the moment the pesky truth that Trump has called for a “Muslim Ban,” and putting aside for the moment the pesky truth that Owens has indeed created content about the 2nd amendment, what does it mean that for both of them, their reactions were to lash out angrily at any accusation that they hold any culpability for the murders? Wouldn’t a stable, mentally healthy, moral individual examine their own actions in light of this? Responsibility or not, wouldn’t one’s initial reaction be shock and horror at the possibility?
I can only conclude that this is the natural outgrowth of Trump’s “never show weakness--never apologize” ideology of life.

If one equates compassion with weakness, if one equates reflection with indecisiveness, then yes, never show compassion, never be reflective. Compassion does mean, after all, you are sacrificing some of your own well-being (materially, spiritually, ethically, etc.) to aid another. It means understanding how another person might feel, and acting in a manner to ease their pain. If that is weakness, if seeing how another person is being harmed and working to mitigate that harm is lack of strength, then indeed, the Trump ideology is being followed. Owens did not, as far as I know, decide to show compassion for the dead, or look at her own actions to see why a mass murderer would claim she was “the person who influenced [him] above all,” in his own direct words.

Even putting aside the argument about culpability and responsibility--what kind of a person sees the murder of fifty innocent people and thinks about him or herself first? What must have happened to the soul of a person who sees this unspeakable tragedy and uses the Internet abbreviation, “LOL?”

Show no weakness.
Never apologize.
The meek will inherit nothing.
Cast the first stone.


Be seeing you.

​

There's an old joke. It's about pedantry, but it illustrates my point.

A man comes home to find his wife in flagrante delicto with a college professor of English. The man shouts, aghast, "Mildred! I'm surprised!" The professor stops his activity and replies, "No, sir. I am surprised. You are merely astonished."

See, the joke is about the difference between "surprise" (being startled or caught unawares) and "astonishment (being presented with unusual circumstances)."

In a way, this college admissions scandal is shocking, distrurbing, rage-inducing, what-have-you...but it's not surprising or astonishing. If you have been living in a bubble where you did NOT know the wealthy live lives under a different set of rules, laws, and codes of behavior, then I don't know what to tell you. "Wake up and smell the coffee," I suppose. Or "Tune in to sanity FM" maybe. What makes this scandal so...scandalous is that it lays bare some of the unspoken assumptions we have about wealth and privilege. It's seeing an outtake from The Bachelor where the cast reshoots a "spontaneous" intimate moment for better staging. It's watching a celebrity put on his toupee. It's Toto pulling back the emerald curtain to reveal the huckster behind the wizard. We always knew--or should have known--he was there, but when the little dog reveals him to us, we are nevertheless shocked.

And maybe that's a good thing. Maybe revealing a truth that we always knew but didn't want to acknowledge can lead to change. We can't ignore the inequity of college admissions anymore--before this scandal broke, we could kid ourselves with the notion that college admission is merit-based. We knew it wasn't, not really, but now we can't ignore it anymore. Maybe that's good. Maybe we'll use this scandal as the trigger to actually effect change--change that has long been overdue.

There's also a curious bit of positive news in the scandal--at least, as I see it. These wealthy families (and the unkindest cut of all seems to me to be the reports that they were not the upper echelons of wealth--if they had been, they would have flat-out bought a library or building in direct exchange for their child attending the school. See Kushner) were trying to purchase something. They were trying to purchase a college diploma for their child. Why? The Los Angeles Times did a big story on that, and their conclusion was it was about status. The status that a "prestigious" degree confers. But what exactly is that prestige? What was the nature of the prestige these deluded parents were trying to buy? They were trying to buy legitimacy--the world in which they live (simple wealth, a la Jay Gatsby) is hollow, devoid of any real achievement save the accumulation of money. They were Charles Foster Kane traveling to Europe to buy artwork and hence buy culture itself. These parents wanted their children to be seen as something more than merely offspring of wealth, and they chose to try and buy the legitimacy a college degree confers.

Yes, of course they went about this utterly improperly, and yes, of course they missed the point of an education. Obviously, an education isn't for the prestige it offers--an education is for personal enrichment and growth. Yes, of course these parents couldn't see that. But in an age of anti-intellectualism (and make no mistake, these parents were not intellectuals) there's a strange kind of comfort knowing these parents were at least aware that the appearance of education, the appearance of intelligence is valuable. In a bizarre sort of way, it's good to know someone still values education.

Even if the whole thing is astonishing.

Be seeing you!

First off, notice the new digs here at seanobrienauthor.com. Had a bit of a hiccup with the last format--and by "hiccup," I mean it was damn near impossible to get stuff up and running, so we have a new look. Anyway.

First off, it's taken an amazingly long time for this novel to get going. For reasons I will not get into here, EDGE Publishing had some trouble after I signed the contract and work was delayed rather a long time on the purchased ms. On the one hand, while I understand and do not begrudge the folks over at EDGE their lives and the personal issues that got in the way, the fact remains that many, many months went by after the signing of the contract with no work nor communication on the ms. However, fences were mended, and things seem now on track for a June e-pub, followed up by a print version.

First off, the title. I had been living with the title Caretaker for virtually all of the novel's life, having settled on it rather early in writing and never doubting it. It fit well, it was a one-word title, and I was happy with it. Witness from my shocked expression my alarm when I discovered not only had a novel been written with the same title (not that unusual, I suppose) but that it was a science-fiction novel (okay, still not terribly unusual) with the same opening premise (now it's getting a little weird.) From the summary of this other novel, the plot diverges quickly from mine, but the similarities were too great to ignore. Once I learned of this, I contacted the folks from EDGE (with whom I am now in regular communication) and we mutually agreed that a title change was in order.

How to do this? I said, only partly in jest, that renaming the novel was akin to renaming one of my children. I'd lived with this title for so long I had come to think of the work as indelibly labeled Caretaker. This wasn't a case where I had two or three alternate titles and just went with this one--I had this one and this one only.

The new title came about largely as a sort of word-association game. I started with some thematic and Biblical quotes: Behold the Fire and Wood, for example, which went nowhere. That led me to The Stars Will Provide, and from there I turned to Guernica for inspiration. So I had Guernica is Silent, which led to Guernica Manifest, and the, finally, to Silent Manifest. 

It will still be a long time before I can accept this new name for my child, though. I still think of her as Caretaker.

Be seeing you!