Author - SL Huang (aka MathPencil)

1
Cover reveal, HALF LIFE: The Sequel to Zero Sum Game! Coming by the end of the year!
2
Tools for Self-Publishing: KDP VAT Calculator
3
ZERO SUM GAME now in paperback!
4
Ferguson: I don’t know what to say.
5
My Friend Is Writing a Memoir About Being Pushed Off a 65-Foot Cliff by Jeff Bridges
6
36 Little Details If You Want to Set a Story at MIT
7
My Typical Day On Set
8
Italicizing Non-English Words in English-Language Fiction
9
Are Readers Satisfiers or Optimizers? Should Writers Be Satisfiers or Optimizers?
10
For Science! (TW: cancer)

Cover reveal, HALF LIFE: The Sequel to Zero Sum Game! Coming by the end of the year!

Half Life

Half Life (Russell’s Attic Book #2)

Cas Russell is back — and so is her deadly supermath.

Cas may be an antisocial mercenary who uses her instant calculating skills to mow down enemies, but she’s trying hard to build up a handful of morals. So when she’s hired by an anguished father to rescue his kid from an evil tech conglomerate, it seems like the perfect job to use for ethics practice.

Then she finds her client’s daughter . . . who is a robot.

The researchers who own the ’bot will stop at nothing to get it back, but the kid’s just real enough for Cas to want to protect her — even though she knows she’s risking everything for a collection of metal and wires. But when the case blows up in her face, it plunges Cas into the crossfire of a massive, decades-long corporate espionage war.

Cas knows logically that she isn’t saving a child.  She’s stealing a piece of technology, one expensive and high-stakes enough that spiriting it away is going to get innocent people killed. But she has a distraught father on one hand and a robot programmed to act like a distraught daughter on the other, and she’s never been able to sit by when a kid is in trouble — even a fake one.

Screw morals and ethics. All Cas wants to do is save one little girl.

It is ALMOST READY FOR RELEASE!  Coming by the end of the year!  ARCs will be going out next week!

Also, dropping shortly thereafter, and FREE to my mailing list subscribers, will be the short story:

Rio Adopts a Puppy

Yes, the short RIO ADOPTS A PUPPY is a real and actual thing that is happening!  I kid you not!  Rio and a puppy . . . the world will never be the same.

Tools for Self-Publishing: KDP VAT Calculator

Starting January 1, 2015, Amazon KDP is switching to making all self-publishers include VAT for all Amazon stores in EU countries.  In other words, we have to add the tax into our list price for any sales in the European Union, or the tax will be deducted from the listed price and our actual sale (and royalties) will be based on a price lower than what we listed.  See here for more information (click on EU VAT on the left).

Since the VAT rate is different in all European countries, this is a pain, so I thought I’d write myself a little calculator to reuse.  Since I figured I wouldn’t be the only one who’d need it, I’m writing it as a blog post.

Notes & sources:

  • VAT rates taken from this Amazon KDP page, which also lists royalty brackets.
  • The prices automatically round to two decimal places — I do not know if Amazon rounds in the same way.  If you are close to the edge of the royalty bracket, I recommend doing your own calculations, double-checking with Amazon, or adding one cent/penny to the calculated prices just in case.
  • VAT is calculated based on where the customer lives, not where the store is based.  So everyone else in Europe shopping in these stores will have a different VAT rate deducted, and there’s no way to customize by purchaser address.  If you want to ensure that your list price remains above a certain level for all EU customers, multiply by 1.27 to account for the highest VAT rate (Hungary at 27%).  If you want to adjust to cover only countries that might give you significant sales, here is a list of VAT rates by country. Pick the places you think you sell a significant number of books and make sure the Amazon stores those people are likely to frequent are increased by that percentage (so, say, if you have a large Irish audience, make sure your Amazon UK price is multiplied by 1.23 instead of 1.20, to cover Ireland’s 23% VAT).  Note, however, that for any VAT inclusion (including what this calculator suggests) you’ll be artificially increasing prices for everyone who shops at that particular Amazon site but doesn’t pay VAT or has a lower rate.
  • I am not an expert on VAT or a tax professional; this is only a calculator for convenience.  I make no guarantees on the correctness of what I’ve said here or that these prices will give you exactly what you want.
  • If anyone has any corrections, additions, or ways to make it better, please let me know in comments!

ZERO SUM GAME now in paperback!

IMG_20141124_194220_262

I said it would happen eventually . . . and it has!  ZERO SUM GAME is now available in paperback!  It is here on Amazon and will be popping up on other retailers in the upcoming weeks as the publish order flits through the internets.

This book is a work of art, folks.  My paperback interior designer did a ridiculous, stunning, jaw-dropping job, and my cover designer wrapped it all up in a masterpiece.  It’s so pretty I want people to buy it not to read it but to see how pretty it is.  Ha!  The finished product is so aesthetically fabulously gorgeous I want to order a hundred of them and build a fort out of them.

(I am also five.)

The paperback is enrolled in Kindle Matchbook, so if you buy the paperback from Amazon, you get the ebook free.  Whee!

And book 2 is on track for an end-of-year release . . . cover reveal coming soon!

Ferguson: I don’t know what to say.

I had a book news post scheduled to go up today, but I’ve delayed it till next week.

Last night, the grand jury returned a decision saying they were refraining from indicting the police officer who killed Mike Brown.  This means there will not be a trial.

More protests are breaking out.  People are angry, heartbroken, ashamed of the system we live under.

I’ve tried to think of something to say and I have nothing.  The grief I’m seeing, not just stemming from this one decision, but woven of the fabric of American society that would allow all of this to happen — unarmed kids dying, citizens getting tear gassed, police arresting journalists and government officials, the wide chasm of injustice when it comes to the amount of melanin in a person’s skin . . . I have no words.

So I’ll just say this, to my Black brothers and sisters and siblings: I see you.  Your lives matter.  I’m listening.

I’ll continue to listen.

My Friend Is Writing a Memoir About Being Pushed Off a 65-Foot Cliff by Jeff Bridges

TraumaCenter_Tiger

Carl getting mowed down by a tiger. From carlciarfalio.com.

. . . among other things!

So, I’ve mentioned I work in movies, right?  A friend of mine recently emailed me the Kickstarter for the memoir of a mutual friend of ours, stuntman extraordinaire Carl Ciarfalio, with an enthusiastic endorsement.  Now, between the movie world and the writing world, I get messages about a dozen Kickstarters a day, and I ignore them so successfully that my eyes glaze them out now (heh, I’d probably seen Carl’s before and also ignored it).  But my friend also had Carl’s first chapter, which he forwarded, so I clicked on it.

(Now, you gotta understand something.  First, I don’t tell anyone in movies I write.  Second, I’m a TOTAL SNOB when it comes to writing now.)

So I open Carl’s first chapter expecting to sort of skim it, because I’m a writer, doncha know, and I love Carl but heck I have super high standards and all . . . and then I start reading and I end up sitting there with my jaw open COMPLETELY ENGROSSED thinking holy crap Carl can fucking WRITE this is SO GOOD. And I get to the end and I’m like HOLY SHIT I WORK IN THIS BUSINESS AND THIS IS ALL OLD HAT TO ME AND I STILL WANT TO TURN THE PAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE.

So I went over to the Kickstarter and contributed (second Kickstarter I’ve ever contributed to!) and then sent Carl an email that basically said, “CAN I PLEASE PLASTER YOUR FIRST CHAPTER ALL OVER THE WEB AND HELP YOU GET FUNDING PLEEEEEEASE.”

And he very graciously said yes.  So:

Read the first chapter of Stunts, Stars, and Stories: One Man’s Fall to Fame!

Contribute to the Kickstarter!

I’ll add one other thing that may not mean much to anyone outside movies, but — there’s a, shall we say, tradition here in Los Angeles of people saying they are someone they’re not or have done more than they actually have.  There are plenty of people who claim to be stuntmen who are . . . not.  But Carl is the real deal — real stuntman, and a really good dude as well.  So if you’ve ever been curious about what Hollywood is actually like, he definitely has the stories.

36 Little Details If You Want to Set a Story at MIT

  1. Classes are referred to by number, NOT by name (it’s 18.014, not “Calculus with Theory” — we usually didn’t even know the names).
  2. Majors are referred to by number, not by name (it’s course 8, not Physics).
  3. Buildings are referred to by number, not by name (it’s Building 2, not . . . oh, you get the idea).
  4. There’s no central dining hall; you can’t talk about “the MIT dining hall.”
  5. There’s no central library; you can’t say, “meet me at the library” unless you already know which one.
  6. There’s no meal plan.  You have a student account linked to your student ID, but you pay for what you eat, and the account is just money and can equally be used for things like books.
  7. The campus store is called The Coop (pronounced like the thing a chicken lives in, not Co-Op), but some of the more theoretical science and math texts are only at Quantum Books.  The student card can be used both places, as well as at a few local eateries.
  8. MIT has its own slang — and a lot of it.  Punt, tool, cruft, hack, psets, fingering, Twinkies, IHTFP . . .
  9. As of some years ago, you can’t have more than two majors, so triple majors are out.  You can have up to two minors as well, but not every subject offers a minor (computer science[1] doesn’t, for example; if it did I would have one!).
  10. You can’t say you’re majoring in “engineering.”  First of all, see #2, and second of all, there’s no such major — 10 out of the (approximately) 24 different courses of study are different kinds of engineering.
  11. The computer clusters are called “Athena clusters” and mostly run Linux (at least, they did when I was there; they’d started to get a few Windows machines my senior year for certain kinds of software).
  12. Some people go by their Athena usernames.  Even the people with unpronounceable usernames, such as sets of initials, get them used as nicknames occasionally.
  13. Dorms all have their own character and culture and students choose where they live, so the dorm a student lives in can say a lot about that student’s personality.  The various dorms / sections of campus (East vs. West) / dorms vs. frats all mock and judge each other — sometimes gently, sometimes . . . less gently.
  14. It’s not unusual to have your own room as an undergraduate, though you can have a roommate if you want one.  I had my own room from sophomore year on; most students have roommates during
    Drinking and partying happen if you want [them], but […] they’re incredibly easy to avoid if you don’t
    freshman year but I could have had a single that year too if I’d wanted one.  Depending on the dorm, rooms can be quite spacious rather than the stereotypical college closet.
  15. Drinking and partying happen if you want that kind of college experience, but unlike at some other universities, they’re incredibly easy to avoid if you don’t want them, and plenty of people have no interest in that kind of student life.
  16. Despite the number of fraternities, Greek life is little more than a footnote to those who aren’t in it; the most I can say about frats is that I had a few friends who were in them, and I think I was inside a frat a grand total of one time.
  17. Aside from premeds, the undergraduate student body is remarkably uncompetitive, because classes are hard enough that intra-student competition becomes a lot more meaningless.
  18. There’s no grade inflation.  Professors do use grading curves at their own discretion, usually to align the mean to a certain number (say, 70) and the standard deviations to the right places.  I’ve never heard of an MIT professor curving scores down; there’s rarely a problem with exams being too easy.
  19. Unlike at Caltech, women are not a rarity — the undergraduate ratio is something like 40/60 women.  In certain classes, however, the gender ratio is far more skewed; I was one of only two women in my 18.034 class, and was the only woman in my 18.515 class.  (These are both super theoretical math classes and had probably totaled 13 and 8 people respectively.)
  20. MIT is reasonably diverse.  There are a lot of international students, and any fiction set at MIT with no Asian-American characters I will call shenanigans on.  Other minorities have smaller populations, but almost every class or student group or dorm will have at least some African-American and Hispanic students, and one of the rarest demographics is actually the Midwestern white boy.[2]
  21. If you pick a non-math, non-science academic subject (literature, music, philosophy, history . . .) and start talking to an MIT student about it, it’s more likely than not that that student is way more knowledgeable than the average person about it.
  22. If you pick a pop culture subject that isn’t science fiction/fantasy, however,
    My friend didn’t realize we had a cheerleading squad until after we had graduated.
    all bets are off.  Some MIT students are up on popular media; others are completely clueless.
  23. Students tend to be highly politically aware on a general level, though may or may not keep up with current events while in college.  Students who do follow politics tend to do so passionately, no matter where on the spectrum they fall (and yes, MIT has students with a HUGE diversity of political perspectives, from intensely conservative to burningly liberal and everything in between — or off the axis entirely).
  24. Students tend to be either highly religious or highly nonreligious (casual Sunday churchgoers are rare).  Atheism/agnosticism are much, much more common than in the general population, almost to the point of being the default assumption, but people who are religious aren’t uncommon, and are extremely well-thought-out and passionate about their religions.
  25. In general, MIT students tend to be passionately intense about every aspect of their lives, from hobbies to personal philosophies to independent projects.  You can find student groups related to almost any interest under the sun, and the people in them are usually really into them.
  26. Sports are a lot smaller deal than at other schools, and the ones with hardcore teams tend to be sports such as fencing and pistol, and not, say, football.  I didn’t even know we had a football team until my junior year.  (My friend didn’t realize we had a cheerleading squad until after we had graduated.)  This isn’t meant to be judgmental about football and cheerleading; my point is just that they have next to no impact on student life so it’s easy not to notice we have them, which is the opposite of most schools.
  27. University rivalries: Harvard and Caltech.  These rivalries are not about sports.[3]
  28. Cross-registration is allowed between MIT and Harvard and MIT and Wellesley.  Every once in a while I’d run into a Harvard or Wellesley student,
    Geek traits are sexually desirable.
    and I knew a few guys dating Wellesley girls.  I took one course at Harvard and it was easy to do; I also knew a few other people who did it.  I didn’t know anybody who tried MIT-to-Wellesley cross-registration — I’m sure it was equally doable; it just wasn’t common.
  29. You expect the math/science/engineering education to be good, but humanities classes are also excellent (usually just as high-caliber).  There is an eight-class humanities requirement, but many students take many more than that by choice.  You can also major in humanities subjects, which a fair number of people do, sometimes as a double major but I did know a few single-major students in literature or history of polisci.[4]
  30. There’s a four-class PE requirement, but you can satisfy it with awesome things like ping-pong and pistol.  You also can’t graduate without taking a swim test.
  31. Hygiene is often considered way more optional than it should be.
  32. MIT has a 5-point grading scale, so a 5.0 is someone with a perfect GPA. 
  33. There are no Latin honors or class rank.  You cannot graduate summa cum laude from MIT — no, not even if you’re Tony Stark.
  34. Mass transit in Boston is so good that almost no one has a car.  I think I knew one person who had one.
  35. The subway is called the T.  The T line that goes to MIT is the Red Line, and the stop is Kendall Square.
  36. In some ways dating is easier at MIT because geek traits are sexually desirable.  In other ways it’s a mess because everybody gets so in their heads about it.  Some of my friends didn’t date until they got to MIT because of not-fitting-in issues in high school; but a lot of us — sometimes overlapping with the first set — find dating post-MIT a lot easier, because the social stakes and hangups regarding it are a lot lower in the real world.[5]

Disclaimer: All of this is true when I was there; some of the factual specifics may have changed.

Footnotes    (↵ returns to text)
  1. “Course 6″ if you’re talking to someone from MIT.
  2. I think my class had exactly two students from West Virginia; I knew that because I knew both of them.
  3. There is a pretty decent respect for both schools, though, despite the rivalries.  Also, in our more lucid moments we realize that most of Harvard doesn’t really care about us and would much rather war with Yale.
  4. And that’s courses 22, 21H, and 17, as far as your characters are concerned.
  5. Yes, I said the social stakes surrounding dating are lower in the real world than at MIT.  Dating is always complicated, but far too often MIT students — particularly men — get their self-esteems tied up in their dating success, and there’s a good chance that turning someone down for a date will utterly crush him.  It’s awful.

My Typical Day On Set

Lazy sleeping barnstar.svg

“Lazy sleeping barnstar” by LadyofHats – Own work. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

Wait.

Wait.

RUNRUNRUN WORK NOW

Wait.

NEEDYOUWORKNOW — false alarm. Go back to waiting.

Wait.

Read friend’s book. Do some calculus proofs. Brainstorm names for next writing project.

Wait.

Read some short stories. Be glad I have a Kindle.

Surf the web. Read email. Write this blog post. Watch my phone battery dwindle.

Check in. Wait.

Chat with coworkers. Write some scenes in longhand on the back of the day’s sides.

Wait.

NOW NOW NOW EVERYTHING NOW BURNING DAYLIGHT

Wrap.

Italicizing Non-English Words in English-Language Fiction

Cyrillic JA.png

“Cyrillic JA”. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cyrillic_JA.png#mediaviewer/File:Cyrillic_JA.png

I’m a bit late in posting this, but:

There was a really fascinating conversation going on a while ago about whether writers should italicize non-English words in English-language fiction.  Daniel José Older made a very funny and incisive argument against it, and Kameron Hurley added more excellent thoughts (link to Hurley’s blog; has Older’s video as well — watch it and come back; it’s well worth it).

I love what Older said about non-English words just being part of the flow.  There are a few Cantonese and Swatowese words I grew up with that are just part of my vocabulary, and it would feel downright bizarre to italicize them in writing.  What I call my grandparents, for instance, or the names of certain foods or places, or, for that matter, my name.  There’s no othering in either my inflection nor my cognition when I use these words in conversation; it would never even occur to me to italicize them even though I’m not fluent in the languages:

“I picked up some dumplings and bao today.”

“When I was at Amah and Ayeh’s apartment . . .”

“My sister grew up calling me Jeh-Je.”

And when I’m talking to people who have some Mandarin knowledge, we go even further with our mixing.  Here’s some goofiness from a thread on Absolute Write (quoted with permission):

“Yaaayy totes hen gaoxing!”

“Putputt, there’s another recipe for ya. Durian, intestine, and stinky tofu-stuffed jiaozi with dough made out of cornflakes.”

“*hides under the fanzhuo* Ni keyi haz them. Wo hai pa.”

“Screw han zi! Ask Little Ming, not too long ago I mistakenly said “I poured from Indonesia”. Hate han zi.”

“Bu tai hao. Very bu tai hao.”

And these were written communications, in mixed company (Mandarin-speaking AND non-Mandarin speaking AND partially-Mandarin speaking), and nobody was italicizing.  But still, everyone got which words were Chinese — I think! — and when I think about italicizing, I cringe.  “Yaaayy totes hen gaoxing!” or “screw han zi!” looks bizarre and reads with entirely the wrong cadence.

So, YEAH.  I agree with Older and Hurley!

. . . most of the time.

Because the natural next step was to think, wait, I have a few non-English sentences in my novels and I’ve italicized them.  Why did I do it?  Should I remove it?  Should I stop doing it?

And I struggled for a few minutes, because I couldn’t figure out why italicizing those words in my books felt right, when in the above examples it would feel so, so, so wrong.  But after a while I realized: they’re not words my main character understands.  She’s not meant to understand them; on some meta-level they’re being transcribed phonetically into the narrative.  I also want to signal to the readers that they’re not meant to understand them either, necessarily; even from context — part of what I’m trying to do with italics is signaling to the audience that their eyes can gloss over it a bit.

Here are the passages:

“That’s stupid,” I muttered, but without any vitriol, and without any real belief behind the words. “You should be able to axiomitize everything. How else can you know right from wrong?”

Rio was smiling again. “If you’re asking me personally, you know how. Sumasampalataya ako sa iyong tsarera.”

“What does that mean?” He didn’t answer me, but I knew already.

is from book one, and:

“Not the time for pleasantries,” I snapped over my shoulder as I went back over to Checker and his laptop.  “Get to work or get out.”

No es tan antipática como parece,” Arthur said to Pilar, with a sideways glance at me.  “Te lo prometo.”

He was definitely mocking me.  Ass.  “Fuck you,” I said.  “I assume.”

is in book two (unless it hits the cutting room floor).

I keep looking at the passages.  Changing the italics to plain text.  Changing it back.  Reading them over.  And I think that if I don’t italicize them, it makes the reader stumble a bit, doesn’t signal clearly enough that these words are about to be a chunk of text they don’t recognize and aren’t necessarily meant to, especially as there’s no fluent switching from those characters elsewhere in the text.

But what about characters who do mix languages fluently?  Does that make a difference?  Does it make sense then to non-italicize, even if my POV character doesn’t speak those languages, if, regardless of her fluency, the speaking characters are dropping in those words as part of the normal flow of conversation and expecting her to get what they mean?  Does it make a difference that, in both cases above, the characters speaking are saying something in front of her that they deliberately don’t want her to understand?

I think it might.

I’ve realized I also had a few sprinkled-in words that come from non-English languages, in which everyone was assumed to understand the meaning, and I’ve already gone through and de-italicized those.  (It’s fascinating for me that I italicized them without thinking in the first place!)  But in these cases where I really am trying to offset the text as not understandable, the choice doesn’t feel quite as clear.

After a lot of mulling, I think I think that in the above cases the italics work to offset the words as something foreign — foreign to the POV character, that is.  Another thing I loved about Older’s video was his stress at the end about how language is about communication and understanding, and in that vein, I think I think that italics can be used — or not used — in a judicious manner to change the readers’ perceptions of a non-English language’s appearance in the narrative.

But I’m not sure.  And there’s the whole question of othering to consider, and how italicizing non-English languages can contribute to that.  So I’m very much interested in hearing other people’s thoughts on this, and I might still change my mind.  It’s definitely something I’m going to put a lot more thought into from now on!

(And now I deliberately want to go and write a short story that mixes languages, as I’ve been thinking about it so much lately.  For more great thinkiness on mixing non-English into English language fiction, try John Chu’s utterly fantastic essay in The Book Smugglers, and then go read his excellent Hugo-winning short story “The Water That Falls From Nowhere.”)

Are Readers Satisfiers or Optimizers? Should Writers Be Satisfiers or Optimizers?

Science books in Senate House

By Tom Morris (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)], via Wikimedia Commons

I was talking with a friend the other day about the two loose groupings of consumers: satisfiers and optimizers.  Satisfiers buy the first thing that meets some level of predetermined standards, and then they go on their merry way.  Optimizers need to compare and contrast until they are sure they are getting the best product relative to the rest of the market, and then they purchase.

Me, I’m an optimizer in far more product categories than I’d like to be, and I’m trying to be less of one.  I think I’d save a lot of time and not be any less happy if I made purchases more quickly and with a minimum of research.  But that’s neither here nor there.

Point is, my friend’s and my conversation veered toward advertising for products.  He explained that a lot of times companies will look at (1) whether their consumers are likely to be satisfiers or optimizers, and (2) where they are in the market relative to everyone else.  For instance, far more people are optimizers when it comes to large purchasers like cars.  So car commercials are far more likely to compare themselves to other brands and try to convince you that they are the best model.

On the other hand, for daily sundries that tend toward consumers using a satisfier model, companies are more likely to try to breed brand loyalty and get people to try them, find they’re “good enough,” and stick with them.

I started thinking about all this in reference to book production.

You see, considering I’m an optimizer as a consumer, it just makes sense to me to be an optimizer as a producer.  I can’t imagine putting out a book that was any less than the best I could possibly make it.[1]

This is probably the way I’ll continue writing books, because I’m a Type-A perfectionist and I’ll want to claw out my brain if I publish at a lower quality standard.  But I’m really not sure it’s the optimal way of writing books in general.

Because: let’s say that after the second draft or so my books ended up at, say, 97 percent of what I could make them, and it took months to cover those extra three percentage points.  If I said, “screw it” and released at 97 percent, those months could be spent writing the next book — the next book, which I could then release a lot faster, when it was at 97 percent.

And how would this affect my sales?  I’d probably make more money due to the quicker release schedule and the fact that enough of my readers are satisfiers (with a standards threshold at a level that wouldn’t cut out my 97-percent-of-what-I-could-make-it writing) for my slight quality drop not to matter in whether they buy the book.  (Since most readers aren’t going to buy just one book, it probably makes sense for readers to act as satisfiers when book-buying anyway.)

Personally, I’ve sometimes been annoyed when authors I otherwise enjoy have put out their next book and I read it and I feel that it’s good, but not as good as it could be.  I get ticked off as a reader.  But the thing is, they’re probably doing the smart thing!  They’re probably maximizing their own sales.

And the revelation to me here was that I’m betting those authors are acting as satisfiers with regard to their own work: they wrote a book they consider “good enough” to release, and according to the market, they’re right.  They then went on to write their next book.  It’s smart.  It’s savvy.

Damn, I should consider doing it, too.

Alas, all this is mostly out of interest’s sake, because I’m not sure I’m psychologically capable of doing it with my writing, even though part of me would really like to.  But you know, maybe there are other things I can approach with a satisfier mentality from the producer side — things like book promotion, blog posts, tweets, for instance.  Maybe there are things I can say are “good enough” rather than trying to make them the “best,” and thus free up plenty of revision time for . . . well, writing and editing that next book!  Because will my “best” be able to lead to optimizers choosing me anyway?  Will my production optimization really make such a difference that it would lead to me being the top of the market for consumer optimization to choose?

Probably not.  Probably my “good enough” and my “best” will just meet slightly different thresholds for satisfiers, and optimizers will more likely pass me by anyway, because come on, “best in the market” is a ridiculous goal to have.  So acting as an optimizer as a producer is still only meeting the demand of satisfier consumers, only my approach is as if my audience is optimizers, meaning I waste ridiculous amounts of time trying to at least optimize within my own psyche before putting things out into the world.  Instead, I should be attempting to reach a certain bar and hook everyone who will read according to that standard.  I should approach my work as a satisfier myself and put it out there when it’s “good enough.”

I’m still going to make my books the best I can make them, because, particularly with my self-published work, I’m the author and the publisher and I CAN and I’m stubborn that way.  But I think I’m going to start trying a lot harder to approach other areas of my life with a “good enough” mentality!

We’ll see how that goes.

Footnotes    (↵ returns to text)
  1. I haven’t actually heard anyone talk about being a satisfier/optimizer as a producer before — i.e., releasing a product that reaches some standard of quality versus releasing a product that is the best one can make it.  It’s possible that by using the terms this way I’m being completely confusing to anyone who actually knows anything about marketing!  I also want to note that the way I’m using the words, optimizing as a producer does not mean the product is going to be the optimal product for consumers.  Being an optimizer as a producer does, however, match the psychology of being an optimizer as a consumer — at least, so it seems to me — as, if you’re not willing to buy anything other than the best the market offers, you’re less likely to be willing to release anything that’s not the best you can make it.  tl;dr of this footnote: I’m not in marketing and may not actually know what I’m talking about at all; but I’m musing because I find it interesting!

For Science! (TW: cancer)

Mad scientist.svg

“Mad scientist”. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

 

Fun fact: You can get me to do almost anything by convincing me it’s For Science!

ANYTHING.

For instance, I kinda hate cancer-related things.  Have hated ‘em since I got cancer the first time, and will continue to, always and forever.  But when I get research studies in the mail (which, can we just meditate for a moment on how creepy that is, that random scientists are able to get my name, address, and data about my medical history from the government?  Yes, apparently I am on STATE LISTS) . . . well, I’m just such a sucker for helping science.  Take my blood!  Take my answers!  You don’t have to use them for good, as long as you use them For Science!

I was almost on a clinical trial right before I got cancer again (it was a study to see if a certain medication could prevent an additional cancer in people who were at risk, like me).  And even if I ended up in the control group, I was so excited to be able to be a subject For Science.  (But then, in a delicious twist of timing, I got the cancer the study would have been working towards preventing.  Ah, life.)

In fact, the treatment I had for cancer when I was a kid was a clinical trial.  More than a dozen years later, I found out that the side of the coin flip I was on was found not to help survival rates — but had caused almost all of my secondary health problems (and, yay, eventually my second cancer).  Considering I had been, at one point, suspected to be in remission[1] and could have exited the study, it was kind of upsetting news.  But one of my friends immediately reminded me that by staying on the study I had HELPED SCIENCE.  (There is also the point that at the time, there was absolutely no way to know whether I needed the additional treatment in order to, yanno, not die.  But that wasn’t nearly as mollifying as the For Science! part.)  By subjecting myself to eventually-found-to-be-probably-unnecessary treatment that caused all sorts of other issues and eventually more cancer, I helped be a data point to show that treatment was unnecessary!  I get a kick out of that.  I’m proud of it.  YAY SCIENCE!

In fact, if I’d died of this second cancer, I would hope my obituary would have read, “Sacrificed for science.”  And then hopefully my body would have gone to medical researchers to slice and dice and use For More Science.  (My organs are too fucked up to donate to people, but they can go to medical research.  SCIENCE FTW!)

All in all, it makes me so much happier in life to know that I’ve passively contributed to the advancement of medical research.  SCIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEENCE!

Footnotes    (↵ returns to text)
  1. Cancer remission is often not cut and dried.  For my particular cancer I was considered in remission if the tumors had shrunk to a certain percentage of their original size.  There was no certain way to know whether the remaining nodules were entirely scar tissue or whether there were still cancer cells present, which is why I say “suspected to be in remission” — if I recall correctly, my tumors were below the threshold percentage in size at the point I could have exited the study, but then did shrink more after additional treatment . . . which might have happened with or without the additional treatment.  So WHO KNOWS.

Copyright © 2014. Created by Meks. Powered by WordPress.

%d bloggers like this: