storytelling

Before Ma Bell gave birth to her unruly hoarde of Baby Bells, phones were boring. Indestructible for the most part, but otherwise unremarkable. The Princess Phone, the ultimate in Marie Osmond-esque hip, was as jazzy as it got.

Fast forward to the current situation. Everybody is making phones. Not just good ole ATT and the Baby Bells: everybody. I have this sense that in back of every dry cleaners, pizza joint and shoe repair shop there's some guy with a hunk of plastic, some cheap wiring, and a screwdriver. This guy is sure he can build the phone we've all been waiting for, the one with exactly the right combination of features. He'll build it and market it and it will be out there with the 354 other models put together by people just like him. People with no common sense, and no idea what my kitchen is like.

It seems so simple, until you look at the list of possible features. Cord/cordless; speakerphone; multiple or single line; answering machine with/without call screening, with/without date stamping, with/without remote retrieval, with/without multiple boxes; caller ID; call waiting ID; spoken commands, spoken caller ID, spoken date/time; intercom system built in; expandable; dual keypads, lighted keypads, keypads that play sounds or don't; personalized ringer options.

The only guarantee is that one or more of the features on the phone I end up buying will stop working within two weeks. Almost certainly the one feature I really needed. The answering machine will go on strike, but the ringer option that sounds like chipmunks mating will be there forever.

With all the choice out there, why has nobody come up with something simple? Like this: make a list of the features you want on your phone, and we'll put it together for you and show you the price as you add or delete features. We'll stand behind our work and our materials for three years, and replace the phone if any part of it stops working. For that, I'd pay. Because you know what I want? A simple phone with three things: a cord (our power goes out on a regular basis, out here in the boondocks, and cordless phones don't work without electricity); caller ID; a simple, easy to use, clear answering machine. I don't need date stamping, a special voice mailbox for my dogs, a phone that talks to me, or a stereophonic ringer.

The reason I need a phone like this is simple: the one I bought six weeks ago, which had too many features beyond the ones I wanted, has started snarling at people, a huge rush of static instead of my usual recorded message: You've reached 555-5555. Now you say something.

If you know some technologically savvy, engineering oriented young person looking for a hole in the market, would you please steer her or him to this idea of mine? There's got to be a future in custom built, high quality phones. I'm trying to talk my daughter into it, but I'm not making much progress.

Posted by at 5:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Pam wrote:

I must admit though, on the title, I keep getting flashes of the TV series "Queen of Swords" - it leads to a very different impression than tarot cards, although the occult is present I guess, in the gypsy fortune teller/palm reader assistant to "the Queen." If I was a publisher, I might be concerned that there might be confusion between the TV series and the Wilderness series of books. But I wonder if cross-pollenation of imagery and ideas are really a concern to such people anyway.

There was a TV series? I never heard of it... has anyone else?

I'm sure you've thought of at least one other title that would be suitable? Is a title the first or the last thing you tend to think of? Aren't you supposed to leave title-development to the last in case the tone or plot changes dramatically, or in case the title influences the writing, you know, boxes you in, in some way? That sounds rude. I meant to say...Queen of Swords is a fine title, but have you planned for eventualities?

It's not a rude question, not at all, but the answer is simple: Nope. No other title in mind, and I won't even contemplate such a thing until I'm forced to. Titles present themselves quite early in the gestation of a novel, and I'm a little superstitious about them. I've never felt boxed in by a title, because usually they are broad enough to encompass a lot of development and change.

Posted by at 3:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I am a great fan of technology, really I am. I'm always interested in new software and updated hardware, in advancements that let me see or hear more clearly. I think the internet is the great invention of our time. But some things make me nervous, and Amazon is one of those things.

They've got some new features, in case you didn't know. The hugely powerful software they use to scan books also gathers some rather startling information. Look, for example, at the entry for Byatt's Possession. About half way down the page you'll see a heading called Citations, and under that, a list of all the books mentioned in the novel. For example:

Principles of Geology (Penguin Classics) by Charles Lyell ◦ page 298, and page 497

There is a link to the currently available edition of this book, as well, for your shopping convenience.

Amazon is also providing what they call SIPs, or statistically improbably phrases. Their definition:

Amazon.com's Statistically Improbable Phrases, or "SIPs", show you the interesting, distinctive, or unlikely phrases that occur in the text of books in Search Inside the Book. Our computers scan the text of all books in the Search Inside program. If they find a phrase that occurs a large number of times in a particular book relative to how many times it occurs across all Search Inside books, that phrase is a SIP in that book.

Here's an example of such phrases from Niven's Ringworld Engineers (click for a larger version). You'll note that you can also search inside this book -- for example, you could look up "immortality drug," ask for the page it's on, and read it in context.

Not all books have these features enabled. If you'll notice, under the picture of the cover you'll sometimes see this phrase: "Publisher: learn how customers can search inside this book." Of course, Amazon has to have permission from the publisher (and, I'm hoping, also from the author) before they run amok among the pages. My novels do not have this feature. As far as I know, my publisher just decided not to allow it, which, I guess, is good. I think.

I make a case, whenever possible, for supporting local independent bookstores, but I do use Amazon. I use it as a reference work, to look up titles and editions and availability. These new features are also promising. If I know that someplace in Novel X the author uses the phrase 'xxx' -- say I remember because it was a strong image or evocative piece of dialogue -- I have two choices if I want to find it again. I can sit down and page through the whole novel again, or ask Amazon to search for the phrase.

So yes, there are some services Amazon offers that a small independent bookstore cannot. On the other hand, nobody from Amazon has ever reached out of the computer to pet my dogs or give them a treat. Nobody from Amazon has ever asked how my daughter is doing or if I have an opinion on the neighborhood ballot to stop further construction of condominiums.

I have this sense that I'm the little kid playing on the sidewalk and Amazon is the stranger with candy. It's really good candy, too. Chocolate and hazelnuts and French nougat. I need to keep reminding myself why it's not good for me. Because it's not. I'm almost positive.

Posted by at 2:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)