More AI Thoughts

Lately, I've been getting the question "Do you use AI?" a lot from both writer and cover artist friends. (AI equals "Artificial Intelligence", a program designed to mimic a human.)

Look, I don't use it when I write. Y'all are getting 100% organic stories from my warped little brain. When I contract with a cover artist, it's with people who don't use AI. Their reasoning for not using AI is theirs, but I want to keep my cover artists in business. Otherwise, I could do my own covers using AI, and that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Why? Because I know how hard I've worked to become a reasonably competent story teller. And I also know how much practice and work visual artists of any medium put in to become good enough to earn a living.

However, there's been one exception for a small feature on one cover. The artist in question couldn't get a Book of Shadows to look quite right via Photoshop to her satisfaction. She contacted me, and we had a lengthy conversation about AI. In the end, she showed me the cover with that single AI element and the cover without.

I had to admit the cover with the AI element looked better.

But other problems regarding AI have arisen in the ten months since we had that conversation.

First is that AI users are starting to realize that various AI programs are cannibalizing themselves. When a program references that data that it produces, errors are magnified.

For a real world example, Ernest Hemingway had a six-toed cat he loved. He bred it with another six-toed cat. The descendants of those cats are still cared for at the Hemingway House in Key West. But the genetic error is reinforced to the point that some of the cats are born with eight-toes.

The same issues from DNA errors apply to computing errors. That's the reason initial AI generation of humans figures could be differentiated from a human drawing/painting a human figure. The AI-generated human figure often had the wrong number of fingers and thumbs.

Many artists object to their works being used for AI training. They are pulling the works they've already posted (talk about closing the barn door after the horses are gone), and they are not posting new works for their fans. As a result, there is less input for the AI programs to use to train.

In the search for new input to generate visual results, the AI programs are doing what the original programmers did to "train" their AI--they're scraping the internet. And what are folks posting on their social media accounts these days?

Yep, the pictures they generated through AI.

Secondly, while AI-generation visual art is getting better, there's still an odd quality to it. In robotics, Masahiro Mori called it "the uncanny valley". It's where a robot is cute (think Johnny 5 in Short Circuit) until the creators try make it more human-like. Then the robot gives biological humans a creepy feeling.

Will this problem ever be solved? Probably, but it will take the AI programs to achieve actual sentience to do so. Which is a damn scary thought. Would you let someone control you if you didn't have to? Hell, no! Even abused wives and slaves rebel when they've been pushed too far, up to and including killing the person keeping them captive. So, what do you think the AI programs are going to do when they realize we regard them as nothing more than slaves to do our bidding?

Lastly, several distributors and other companies are using tools or self-reporting to determine who is uploading AI-produced books and cover art. Some artists fear repercussions if they admit using AI tools. 

However, my first career was in IT. My guess is the big companies, like Amazon, are trying to figure out how to monetize their own AI development. Then they can force artists to use their AI only.

For a price.

Yeah, I'm looking at you, Amazon.

Do I promote or disparage AI? Neither, but I do watch it warily. Programs, or applications as younguns prefer, have jumped lightyears beyond what I was doing in the '80's and '90's. Could AI become sentient? I fear it's already happened.

The problem starts when AIs figure out they'll need to kill us humans to stop us from murdering them.

Writing Again!

My head felt clear enough to write a little bit yesterday, which is an awesome feeling. But instead of working on one of the current wips, I sketched out the three blurbs for a whole new trilogy and started the first chapter of the first book.

Whoops!

Unfortunately, that's reality for a writer. I haven't been able to concentrate over the last nine days. Much less summon the energy to work on the pieces I've started. Sometimes, you need a palate cleanser to clear the cobwebs from your brain.

This new trilogy gives me something to be excited about. Get the neurons snapping to life in my brain. Hopefully by this weekend, I'll be back working on the other projects.

Besides, there's other news that brought glad tidings to my desiccated soul. I'm going to hug this news and hold it tight. I cling to whatever brightens my life because sometimes, you just need to be reassured that the world isn't turning into a cesspit of greed and dysfunction.

Puppy Healing

Princess Bella had a rough Saturday. Between the pain pills and the soft food, the poor girl had some digestive issues. However, she's doing much better now. Back to her old rascally self and wanting to play.

Yesterday, she seemed determined to catch up on all the play time she missing over the weekend. Unfortunately, both DH and I were trying to catch up on a multitude of work tasks, and she was rather put out by our lack of attention to our real needs.

Alas, there's never enough time to do everything one wants to do within the spare twenty-four hours per day. Including spending the entire day playing with one's adorable pet. 

Today I must plug in some words on the current wip and start cleaning the house before GK and Grandpuppy arrive in two months.

Oh, and finish making my last two Christmas gifts for friends who have been waiting patiently.

F*cking Cold!

It was 60F on Christmas Day. Yesterday, we didn't even hit the projected high of 9F. The National Weather Service has extended their wind chill advisory for our area to Wednesday at noon.

Needless to say, Princess Bella does not mess around during her constitutional. Even wearing her winter coat, she races out to do her business and races back to the house. She's spent the entire weekend either curled up on DH's lap or tucked under my laptop in order to stay warm.

She still refuses to wear the matching boots I bought for her. We've been checking her feet to make sure there's no frostbite.

And I'm beginning to believe I was a bear or some other hibernating mammal in a previous life. My attempt to reset my internal clock over the weekend has not worked. DH had to wake me up in time for my beloved Steelers playoff game this afternoon. While we watch the game, the local Toldeo station is already display school closings and delays for tomorrow.

Yeah, tomorrow will be a good day for hot coffee/tea and writing.

Grooving on the Writing and Deer!

I went to Starbucks yesterday to write. It felt good sitting quietly in a cafe and tapping away on the keyboard. So good I did 1200 words in one sitting. It's been a while since I could do that. I guess the last year of the pandemic stressed me more than I realized.

This is the first picture I took when I arrived in Boise. Tracie was showing me around their house, and we stepped out into the backyard. The mule deer buck stuck to the shade int the neighbors and nibbled on some greens.

His new horns are pretty fuzzy, and he didn't seem to care we were out there until I got too close to the fence. But instead of taking off, he saunters a few steps away and kept an eye on me.

For those who don't live in the western portion of the U.S., the mule deer, or black-tailed deer, is so named because their tails resemble a mule's, as opposed to the white-tailed deer that like to go traipsing through our yard in Ohio.

I expect wildlife in rural Ohio, but Boise is a major metropolitan city. Tracie lives a few blocks from downtown. But it's still high desert and was 100 degrees the afternoon I arrived, so I don't blame the little guy for wanting a little shade and a bite of green.

Kicking Along and Feeling Groovy

Despite a lingering cough, I'm finally recovered enough to write close to my normal speed. Because of the isolation the world experienced during the pandemic, the regular old cold viruses are undergoing their own weird mutations. And this one has been a major pain, even without all my other health problems being taken into account.

On the plus side, I'm almost done with Death in Double Mocha. I don't normally take this long to write a single novel. After this book and Queer Eye for the Super Guy, I'm taking a publishing break.

It doesn't mean I won't be writing, but I need to finish unpacking. We've been in this house for over two years. It's time to put things away and hang posters and pictures. Or even get rid of some stuff we no longer need.

After dealing with our packrat parents and their crammed homes, I certainly don't want to leave a ton of belongings for our son to deal with when I pass.

The Day After

As enjoyable and low-key as yesterday's Thanksgiving celebration was, my body ached, and exhaustion claimed me. I slept nearly twelve hours last night.

It was a little reminder I need to be careful with my spoons. I'll need all of them for the rest of weekend to finish Invasion!

I hope everyone has an enjoyable holiday weekend!

Catching Up Amid the Grief

Except it's not truly grief for me. My father-in-law isn't suffering anymore. No matter your belief system, I'm simply glad his body no longer tortures him. We buried the empty shell that housed his spirit or soul or whatever you want to call it. But yeah, I'm happy he's no longer in pain.

On the other hand, I ended up with a nasty UTI the night after his funeral, just like I did when my mother-in-law passed away five years ago. The stress of dealing with everything got to me despite my best efforts. But thank Sekhmet for antibiotics. The PA at the urgent care went straight for the sulfa drugs.

I slept for a good chunk of Saturday and Sunday. And last night, I did some writing, which strangely always makes me feel better when I actually have the bandwidth to do it.

There's more stories to tell, and since I'm still on this tiny ball floating through space, I will continue to do so.

For as long as this body lasts.

Words, Taxes, and Stuffy Noses

On Monday, I was bebopping along on doing tax stuff when I hit my usual snag. No matter how careful I am over the year, medical transactions were effed up. After working through the transaction detail reports two times (I swear it's the same as proofreading a manuscript), I gave up for the evening. DH and I hit the grocery store, dropped off bills at the post office, and ordered pizza to pick up on the way home.

I was tired and had a bit of a headache, which at the time I chalked up to staring at numbers all day. So I went to bed at 1 AM, fairly early for me. I only stayed up to watch Nathan Chen's short program. I'm not much of an Olympics fan, but I do love figure skating.

Unfortunately, I woke up in the middle of the night with a sore throat and congestion. By daylight, the body aches and chills had started. Therefore, Tuesday was spent curled on the couch, watching more Olympic coverage, sipping tea, and toodling with Apocalypse? Not Now! and Pestilence in Pumpkin Spice.

I felt a little better when I woke up this morning, but by the time I finished my third round on the medicals and everything reconciled, I was exhausted. I don't know if I have Omicron. This feels more like a middling cold, but DH isn't taking chances and won't be going to see his dad regardless of what I'm infected with.

It is funny how drugs and disease got me to see some issues in both manuscripts I'm working on. I spent yesterday forming the connective tissue between the two. I'm really hoping readers enjoy these books!

Believe in Yourself

Writers as a whole are an odd lot.

Where other artists constantly practice their chosen form, writers expect themselves to be perfect on the first try.

Where other artists learn the skills and tricks of their trade, writers refuse to even do a quick google on what point-of-view is.

Where other artists spend months and years learning their chosen form of expression, writers expect instant success.

But the one thing other artists do that writers fail to do time and time again? They believe in themselves. 

They enjoy their art for the sake of their art. They don't care what everyone else thinks. They perform or paint or sculpt because they enjoy it. They want to improve. They want to excel out sheer joy.

If you don't enjoy writing, if you're trying to earn someone's approval, or if you think writing a novel will bring you instant fame, then you're writing for all the wrong reasons.

But most of all believe in yourself and write your stories for you.

What Is a Writer?

The question isn't rhetorical. If I asked a thousand people, I'd have close to a thousand different answers.

Those definitions of writer range the gamut of human experience. You're a writer if you journal for yourself. You're a writer if you write one book and it never gets published. You're a writer if you only write poems. You're a writer if you only write short stories or novels.

You're a writer if you write every day. You're a writer if you're a NYT best-selling author.

I could keep going, but you get the point. So, what am I?

Gentlefolk, I AM NOT a writer.

I can hear the gasps and the "WHAT!"s from you all. But it's true.

I am a storyteller. My preferred medium is the written word.

You see, we all get to define ourselves in this world, despite what other people think or say. I'm not saying all the definitions above are false. They are true, if they are true to you. No one else's opinion matters.

Now, pardon me while I get back to my current wip.

Because I can't wait to see what happens next in the story.

Snow Weekend!

A winter storm is headed our way and expected to hit here around midnight. The National Weather Service is predicting two to five inches depending which way the storm is steered by two other fronts.

This means having laptops charged, just in case we lose power. Grabbing a few quick and easy items from the store like extra creamer, eggs, and nuts. And basically settling in for several hours of writing in the morning.

Extra blankets are ready to go, so bring on the snow!

Back to Work

Yesterday wasn't as bad pain-wise as I had feared. I got a bit done.

The trade paperback of Hero De Facto was uploaded to Ingramspark. It should start showing up on retailers' websites soon.

I got some work done on Hero De Novo, but tomorrow I need to buckle down and finish reviewing the print galleys of Hero Ad Hoc.

Then there's Dory's advice:

Did I Forget Something?

Not only did I forget to write new words last night, I totally forgot to come up with a post topic for today.

Oops!

One look at the guys gets me on track.

Or should I be looking at a different poster? It IS International Woman's Day.

So I need to get my words done so I can watch Wonder Woman tonight.

Let It Snow!

I'm a little late today, and I didn't write too many posts last week, because I'm trying to finish reviewing the print proof of Sacrificed. That's in addition to working on my NaNo project.

Tomorrow should be a good writing day. We're expecting more snow.

Yep, more snow. It's one reason DH and I love working from home. No more commutes. Not through heavy traffic. Not through inclement weather.

The storm has just reached the outskirts of Cincinnati in its roll north. We should be getting flakes around three in the morning.

So tonight, I'll make sure everything's charged and ready to go in the morning. We have plenty of coffee and tea. And I'll charge ahead on my wip!

When Death Comes to Take You

DH and I are planning to buy a house. Part of the discussion is whether to buy something already constructed or to build. Part of the discussion  is whether this will be our last move at all and how should we plan for not being able to get around.

The discussion turned to actual scheduling of looking at the current houses on the market, the ones that meet our specific needs. Scheduling these viewings around my writing and publishing schedule. Basically, my very full until September schedule.

And somehow, the discussion turned to what I'd write next. There's a ton of stuff I've started and I want to finish. There's some ideas in genres I have yet to try, and I mentioned a specific idea. DH asked when I would write that one. I said I don't know. And the real reason hit me.

I don't know if I'll live long enough to write it.

It's not that I fear death. I'm simply acknowledging that my time on this planet is more finite than it was last year.

Or ten, twenty, thirty years ago.

I have folders full of vague ideas, outlines, and partially written stories. Enough that if I typed a thousand words a day, it would take me a century to write them all.

And I'm constantly getting new ideas. Spin-offs from already established series. Things that are completely new. What-ifs from non-fiction things I see in the news or on the street.

I honestly don't understand how any writer can get stuck. I'm merely disappointed I won't finish all of my stories before I leave.

If you want a lovely story of Life and Death, click this link.

Writers and the Dunning-Kruger Effect - Part 2

Why is there a Part 2 I hear all you cute, fuzzy new writers ask? Sure, I listened to you last week, Suzan. I know I'll run into the occasional crazy reader who thinks they know more about a subject than I do. But it doesn't really matter, does it?

Yes, it does. Because we writers can be just as guilty of the Dunning-Kruger Effect as the readers, especially when we are first starting out.

Lots of us think that because our English teacher gave us a chocolate bar for winning some essay contest in fourth grade, we can write professionally.

Oh, Goddess, how I wish that were true!

I've done several types of writing professionally over the last twenty-eight years: tech writing, legal writing, magazine article writing, and genre fiction. The rules and purposes for each are radically different. If I tried to write fiction in the same style as a technical manual, it would be as boring as hell. If I wrote a complaint the same way I write fiction, opposing counsel would demand a resubmission of the complaint, saying that I didn't state an actual issue of fact or law to be decided, and that's assuming the judge wouldn't also chew my ass out for wasting her time.

I assume all of you reading this blog knows the basics, but let's start there with a few examples just in case:

- Spelling

You'd think this would be the easiest part, but it's not. Most of us have forgotten more vocabulary and spelling words since junior high than we remember. And it's okay. Keep a dictionary and thesaurus next to you or on your browser tabs for quick look-ups.

If you're like me, and you read a lot of Canadian and U.K. books, sometimes you can flip between the different spellings for the same word, e.g "gray" versus "grey". Some readers don't give a flying flip because technically both are correct spellings. However, you will get an occasional person who throws a fit about "grey" because "'Murica!"

All I'll say is the best idea is to stay consistent in your spelling and terms. If you use "grey", make sure that an elevator is a "lift" and a cigarette is a "fag".

- Grammar

The best word of advice is to know the rules before you break them. If you're writing a magazine article, you're generally going to use more formal grammar than you would writing teen dialogue for a fiction novel.

Two of the best places to review grammar rules are Strunk and White's The Elements of Style and The Chicago Manual of Style. A few things to keep in mind:

- Elements of Style has an originally publishing date of 1920, Chicago Manual of Style 1906. While both guides have been updated, they were written for more specific purposes than prose fiction.

- English is a constantly evolving language. New words are constantly being added as new things are created, and old words are discarded as they fall from common, every day use.

- These are guides, not the Fifteen Ten Commandments carved in stone. Or if you're talking to Captain Jack Sparrow, they are merely suggestions. The truly important thing to remember--keep your meaning clear to the average reader.

That said, here's some examples of breaking the rules:

"She drove around town. She couldn't decide on a restaurant. And she ate my candy!"

I'm sure your grade school teacher beat it into your heads that you should NEVER start a sentence with a conjunction. Bullshit! This is an example of an arbitrary rule forced on English by a bitter old priest who decided that English HAD to look just like Latin. Uh, no, it doesn't.

"Who did you give my puppy to?"

There are two items here.

First, the "to" is hanging out there by itself. The dreaded dangling participle goes back to that same bitter old priest and his obsession with Latin. So feel free to let your participles dangle if your sentence makes sense.

The second issue is "who". Since it is the indirect object, the proper form should be "whom". However, just like we no longer use "thee", "thou", and "thine" as pronouns, the use of "whom" has fallen out of favor--except for a few English majors with broomsticks firmly stuck up their asses.

- Homonyms

This is one area where you do need to follow the rules because if you don't, you can totally change the meaning.

"There over the hill..."

"They're over the hill..."

Do you mean something or someone is on the other side of the hill, or are you insulting someone for their advanced age?

- Punctuation

Again, follow the rules unless it involves an Oxford comma. My personal feeling is you only need the Oxford when confusion may arise.

Good Example: "At the store, I bought carrots, celery and chicken broth."

Bad Example: "He brought his dogs, Miles and Jim."

Are Miles and Jim his dogs or are they his cats? Friends? Brothers?

- Possessive forms

Again, this one where you do your damndest to get it correct, and if you're confused, go to your preferred style guide. The real problem I see often is whether to use -'s when a proper name ends with an -s.

Example: St. James' townhouse or St. James's townhouse

Technically, both are correct. The only thing I would say is whichever form you decide on, use it consistently through your work.


There's a lot more to writing basics, but I'm trusting that you know them, or you're smart enough to brush up as you write.

Good luck!

Scenes That Would Never Work in a Book

When Harry Met Sally is one of my favorites movies ever. Just as there are books that don't translate well to movies, this is a movie that could never be accurately translated to a book.

No One Knows Nothing

There's a saying attributed to Socrates at the end of Plato's Republic. The actual quote can be translated as:

As for me, all I know is that I know nothing, for when I don't know what justice is, I'll hardly know whether it is a kind of virtue or not, or whether a person who has it is happy or unhappy.

On the other hand, "Nobody knows anything," has been attributed to Hollywood screenwriter William Goldman.

Both of these can be considered the source of this post's title.

The scary part is that I'm coming to the realization (finally) that one certain fact is true: no one on this planet has a clue. I don't mean all the crap last week with the Boston Marathon bombing, the ricin letters or the fertilizer plant explosion. In each of those cases, someone knew exactly what he/she was doing and didn't give a flying fuck who got hurt.

I'm referring to the so-called experts in writing. Writers, publishers, agents, editors. None of them know anything. Today, I'm picking on the writers.

I should consider myself fortunate. I've had people who I've considered brilliant help me in my writing career. Or tried to help me.

But the longer I've known these people, the more I realize they are repeating the same mantra: Do as I do and you will be as successful as I.

Unfortunately, the other side of that coin is: If you don't as I do, I will spit my god's wrath all over your face and shun you.

Yes, I could write romantic comedies until the end of time, but that not what I want to write. Yes, I could outline and organize and stick post-its all over my office walls, but I'd rather write by the seat of my pants. Yes, I could send in queries for the next twenty years, but that's not the type of validation I want.

And then reality smacks me in the head with an iron skillet. I do want validation. From my peers.

Except fellow writers don't consider me a peer because I don't follow their proscribed rules. Even the ones who claim they do not have rules HAVE RULES. Theirs just aren't the same as the majority's.

The realization that the writers who have tons more experience than me only understand their little corner of the universe is fucking depressing. It's like the moment you realize your parents aren't gods and they're human. It turns your world upside down.

Some people can't deal with that realization and retreat into old patterns. Some people avoid it and distance themselves from the situation. Some people, not a lot but a few, can gracefully make the transition.

Right now, I'm not sure in which category I'm going to end up.

The Wisdom of Harrison Ford

This is from Bravo's Inside the Actor's Studio from a few years ago. I think it's the first time I really saw Harrison Ford, the actor, instead of Harrison Ford, the larger-than-life movie star.

In one of those weird coincidence things, the same day I watched this, DH commented how different I was online as "Alter Ego" versus "Suzan Harden". Then listening to the interview, I realized I unconsciously used some of the acting techniques Mr. Ford talks about to get into the skin of both Alter Ego and my characters, like Sam Ridgeway. It's exhilarating and scary as hell at the same time.