Al Sharpton’s speech at Michael Brown’s funeral

Writer’s Ink: Luther Siler

Normally when I blatantly steal an idea for a post from an author, it’s Scalzi– in fact, some of my highest traffic posts in the history of this blog have been topics I got from him.  So I’m proud to announce that this particular blatantly stolen topic has Jim C. Hines as its originator instead.  I have never read a word of Hines’ fiction, and I do not have any idea why, because I feel like I’ve been following him on Twitter and through other means (which, mysteriously, I can’t recall) forever, and he entertains me, so what the hell, man, go buy some of his books.

Anyway.  He’s been doing this series called Writer’s Ink, which are short interview posts where he interviews a writer about their tattoos.  Jim C. Hines has never met me!  He’s never heard of me, either!  Which makes it unlikely that he’s going to be interviewing me about my tattoos.  But I’m a writer!  And I have tattoos!  So I’m posting about them, because I’m pretty sure posting pictures of my Great Hairy Pastiness is something that I’ve not done around here yet.  And, as it works out, nearly all of my tattoos are book related.  

So, working more or less chronologically:

LEGS:

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That is, and have fun wrapping your head around it, my right leg on the left and my left leg on the right.  The tattoo on the left is the first tattoo I ever got, and it’s a Bible verse: Genesis 4:9, to be specific.  It says “Am I my brother’s keeper,” which is what Cain famously says to God when God asks him what happened to Abel.  Why I got it is a post in itself; needless to say I used to be a biblicist in a former life and I find this particular phrase specifically as well as this story in general endlessly fascinating.

If you don’t recognize the other tattoo, we can’t be friends anymore.  It wraps completely around the leg.  

LEFT SHOULDER:

ibis

This is my only hand-drawn tattoo; I drew it myself, which is kinda fun.  It’s an ibis, the Egyptian symbol for the god Thoth.  (For the record: I read Hebrew, so I know that one was right.  This tattoo I had checked out by a buddy of mine who is a literal Egyptologist.  So this ain’t like me showing you a Chinese letter that is actually the character for dim sum and saying it means “Strength” or “Honor” or some shit like that.  Never tattoo yourself in a language you or someone you trust can’t read.)

Why Thoth?  Thoth taught the Egyptians language and mathematics.

RIGHT SHOULDER:

elahrairah

El-Ahrairah, from Watership Down, which you should read if you haven’t yet.  This image is directly from the film version of the book, and if you’ve seen it you know it’s from riiiight around the time he pisses God off, which always entertained me.  Watership Down is one of my favorite books ever.

There’s also a tattoo on my left wrist, which I won’t be reproducing here because it incorporates part of my name.  It’s in backlight ink!  It’s really cool!  Sorry.  🙂

I feel like I should be tagging somebody.  Other people!  Tell me of your tattoos!

In which I need a wealthy patron

If any of you happen to have half a million dollars that you don’t really need or want, I drove by this house earlier, wondered what the sale price might be without noticing that it was actually for sale, and then a friend of mine completely randomly posted the listing to Facebook.  

1228 E. Woodside St., South Bend, IN 46614

Let’s play “how well do you know me”– I literally, no shit, no exaggeration, gasped when I saw one of the pictures.  See if you can figure out which one.

Review, sorta: LOCK IN, by John Scalzi

lock-in-by-john-scalzi-496x750How’s this for a first sentence that should cause deep, creeping dread in any author: my favorite thing about Lock In, by John Scalzi, is the cover.

That’s the greatest damning-with-faint-praise sort of sentence of all time, right?  But seriously: I love love love the cover to this book.  I’m not sure what it is about it that I like so much other than the fact that it stands out from everything else on the shelves so well, but… damn.

(EDIT:  Scalzi himself has popped up on Twitter to let me know that Peter Lutjen is the artist who did the cover; he was also responsible for the cover for Scalzi’s Redshirts.  He doesn’t appear to maintain his own site or I’d link to it, but he does a lot of work for Tor.  There’s a neat article about the production of the cover here.)

Weird detail: my copy (which I got in a signed edition through Subterranean press; the rest of you can’t even buy this until later this week MWA HA HA) says “A NOVEL OF THE NEAR FUTURE” across the bottom of the book.  There are images on Google that say “A NOVEL” in the same place, but I can’t find an image of the actual cover my book has anywhere– including on Scalzi’s own website.  Which is weird.

But anyway.  Scalzi is one of my favorite working authors, and his work is especially near and dear to my heart because I think when I’m writing at my best he and I sound a lot alike.  I’m a huge China Miéville fan, right?  I couldn’t write like Miéville if my life depended on it.  I love Alastair Reynolds’ work, but I couldn’t write Reynolds-style books either.  Scalzi, on the other hand, and for whatever reason, is a writer whose works I tend to thoroughly mentally dissect as I’m reading them, because I think he and I have similar senses of humor and we want to write the same style of books.  I finished Lock In overnight.  My last book before that, Scott Lynch’s Republic of Thieves, took a week.

I’d rather write books you can read overnight.  700-pagers aren’t my style.  I am a fan of the semicolon; John just wrote an entire book in which he ruthlessly removed all of them on purpose, partially because he thought he liked them too much.  (Yes, I did that on purpose.) We both tend to be dialogue-heavy as opposed to description-heavy.  Things like that.

(I should be clear: he’s way better at all of this stuff than me.  I’m not saying I’m as good as Scalzi, although I certainly aspire to be.  Just that if I had to pick a pro author and say “I”m gonna be that guy when I’m rich and famous!” it’d be him.)

Anyway.  Right: the book.  Lock In is a bit of a departure for Scalzi because it’s not a space opera, the genre that the majority of his books have fallen into.  It’s a near-future detective novel, taking place in a world where a disease called Haden’s Syndrome has imprisoned a certain percentage of the world’s citizens in their own bodies.  He’s taken that simple premise, extrapolated forward an extra twenty or thirty years to give society a chance to mature a bit, and then written a murder mystery.

Which is an awesome way to do a science fiction novel, because it lets him stretch into another genre (crime fiction) while still staying in his wheelhouse of sci-fi as he’s doing it.  This is not my favorite Scalzi book (that would be a tie between Old Man’s War and Redshirts, which is one of a very small number of books that actually made me cry while I was reading it) but it’s still a book that I think most of you should be reading.  The setting is deeply interesting, the characters are fun, and the mystery/procedural itself has enough twists and turns in it that it felt like a seasoned pro was writing it and not someone who was trying his first novel in the genre.  I gave it five stars on Goodreads.  You should give it a look.

(Yeah, I just talked about myself for 500 words and the book for 150.  That’s why it says “sorta” in the title up there.  Shuddup.)

All I want to do today

Here it is; this is the entire agenda:

  • Shower
  • Eat Something that Isn’t Garbage
  • Buy Pants and Socks
  • Write Fiction

That’s all.  Errythang.  But holy cats am I a smelly lump of undifferentiated lazy and achy right now– I slept like crap last night, but in that horrible way where the bed isn’t comfortable enough to allow sleep but that getting out of bed to, say, achieve ibuprofen– which I very badly needed for most of the wee morning hours– is simply too much to expect from any living human being.

I want to buy pants today; I suspect it may well be more of a challenge than I can handle to wear pants today.

Blargh.  At least I was smart enough to take the evening off from OtherJob last night.  And the party went quite well.  It’s responsible for my current half-human state, but it went well.  That’s gotta be worth something, right?

Birfday!

T-minus an hour and fifteen minutes to relatives and toddlers, and I’m getting hangry. Will. Not. Touch. Cupcakes.

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In which I have a three-year-old

Yesterday was awful, but not in a way that I can make funny or entertaining– “these numbers won’t add up, and nothing we can do will make them!” does not make for a fun blog post– and I basically took the entire day off from the Internet.  Today is my son’s birthday, so I’m gonna be busy as hell for at least the next seven or eight hours, but may be around tonight, since I was smart enough to take the weekend off from OtherJob.  

MISS ME, DAMN YOUR EYES.

On teacher pay

10635710_10152586250603926_8540224056547831404_nI talk about teaching an awful lot on this site, right?  Enough that there are people who have admitted to me that they regularly skip past posts on the topic.  (Which, for the record, is fine.  I’m going to write about whatever the hell I want; you, in turn, have the right to ignore whatever the hell you want.)

One common subject connected to teaching that I have more or less completely ignored is teacher pay.  I can’t think of a single post that I’ve devoted to the topic, and I don’t even think it’s come up tangentially (other than “I don’t get paid enough for this shit” types of gripes) more than a couple of times.  There are several reasons for this, chief among which being the fact that virtually everyone feels like they’re not paid enough for what they do.  Do I think teachers are paid enough?  No, I don’t, particularly in Indiana.  Do I think it’s an especially winning issue to discuss a lot?  No, not so much.

Here’s the thing, though, and I know I talked about this during my job hunt this summer:  Indiana has effectively made it illegal (and that’s not hyperbole; it’s the literal truth) to pay me what I’m worth.  It is illegal to tie raises to seniority, meaning that they can’t pay me for my experience.  It is illegal to tie raises to education— ponder, for a moment, the amazing fact that teachers can’t make more money by getting advanced degrees— meaning that my not-one-but-two Master’s degrees are worth precisely bupkis to any school district that might be looking to hire me.

Now, I started teaching in my current district before all these laws kicked in, meaning that my current salary is grandfathered.  I made a comfortable salary last year, and received a frankly scandalous raise when I changed jobs this year– I am absolutely not complaining about my current pay, but it’s not going to last long.  I am not rich by any means, but if it weren’t for all these credit card debts hanging over my head from my twenties and my absurd level of student loan debt, I was making plenty of money to live well, if not extravagantly.  Those other things are my fault; they don’t make my salary less.

I got as far as talking salary with one district during my interview process.  They offered me twelve thousand dollars a year less than I was making last year– flatly impossible.  Upon further investigation, the pay cuts at other districts would have ranged from six to ten thousand dollars.

Under current Indiana law, no new teacher will ever make what I make again.  I know people who have been teaching for five years who still make starting teacher salary– around $32K.  Once they’re in their thirteenth year, which I’m currently in, they’ll still be making right around that same $32K, although they’ll probably have managed a couple of one-or-two-percent district-wide shame raises during that time.  But not anything meaningfully different once inflation comes into play.

I bring all this up for two reasons:  one, I spent $600 on some new suit jackets tonight, a number that may jump to $800 if a navy blue jacket in my size that I liked comes in in the next couple of days.  Those in the picture aren’t all new, but four of them are.  I had to do this to meet my new boss’s expectations on how the folks in his office dress.

(Not complaining.)

We went to Taco Bell for dinner.  Taco Bell is hiring.  They have a big sign– that I couldn’t get a picture of on account of I was driving– in their drive-thru, indicating that assistant managers can make up to $38,000 a year and building managers– they called it something else, but I don’t recall what– can make up to $50,000 a year.

Meaning that an assistant manager at a fast food restaurant can make $500 a month more than a starting licensed teacher– a job that, mind you, requires a college degree, which I doubt (correct me if I’m wrong) assistant managing a fast food restaurant does– and that a manager manager can make more than I did teaching last year, with two Master’s degrees and twelve years of teaching experience.  And that, furthermore, the teachers will never reach those salary levels, because it is effectively illegal to give us raises.(*)

And I’m not trying to denigrate fast food employees here– I’ve done that job, and I have tried to never treat a fast food employee with anything less than perfect respect since, and keep in mind that I have a second job where I work behind a register right now— but god damn it you should make more teaching than you do at fucking Taco Bell.  Fucking society depends on our asses.  This is bullshit.

(*) I’m going to amend my earlier statement, because thinking about it I know that I’ve talked about the politics of teacher pay before– but I still think I’ve refrained from generalized “WE DOAN MAKE ‘NUFF MONEY” types of posts.   It is not precisely illegal to give us raises– they can be tied to student test scores and evaluations and things like that, but the way the laws work it is trivially easy for districts to simply declare that they don’t have the money to pay us more– and the governor and the legislature are also trying to starve public schools of funds any way they can, so the districts are more often than not telling the truth.