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My Love Affair With Framemaker

Senor Pez — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 23:29:12 +0000

There is a significant segment of the population, even among writers, that has no idea about Adobe Framemaker. That’s a shame, since these people are really missing out on the unique blend of power, capability, and frustration that is provided by Framemaker.

To be fair, Framemaker isn’t a swiss army knife or a nuclear weapon. Rather, it falls squarely into the realm of “tool.” Like any tool, there is a purpose for Framemaker. Just as you wouldn’t use a hammer to carve a statue of Madonna, there are certain tasks for which Framemaker just isn’t suited. But for the tasks that it is suited for, it’s fabulous. If Framemaker were a woman, it would be Madonna. It just gets better with age. And it’s into Kabbalah.

Framemaker’s realm of excellence, and what it’s designed around being good at, is large document management. The architecture of the program has support for file collections (aptly named “books”) and can easily create tables of contents, lists of figures, page numbering, and more. It even supports multiple numbering styles within the same book. This allows a single book file to contain roman-numbered front matter, arabic-numbered body pages, and indicator-numbered appendices, keeping clutter and confusion down as there is one source of information for the entire book. Individual files can easily be reordered, added, and deleted, and Framemaker can easily update references to that file.

Some of the features that Framemaker has for its large document management work against it, in a way. Beginning users to the program will be astounded at the differences between a new document in Word and a new document in Framemaker. A new Framemaker document is austere and unattractive, but again, this is by design. That design is a canvas for template creators to use in order to create paragraph. And unlike Word, those styles are not automatically applied to elements in Framemaker. They need to be painstakingly applied to the text created. The same goes with master pages, table styles, and character styles.

This, of course, is by design. Those styles can be propagated throughout the book, ensuring consistency on all pages of the output. When combined with well-designed master pages, a page in Framemaker can be as attractive as a page in Word. The downside is that the setup will take a little bit longer. The upside is that once the setup is done, application and production to documents stretching hundreds of pages are done easily.

There is also the additional power of Structured Framemaker. Structured Framemaker adds a document structure atop the existing styles. This structure limits what elements can be placed into a document, and can automatically format that document based on the element hierarchy. Think of it like validated HTML: You can’t have a

tag outside of a list. Structured Framemaker enforces that requirement based on user-created rulesets, and applies formatting appropriately.

Granted, there are a few rough edges on the program. Long-time Framemaker users are well acquainted with the phrase “just a Frame bug.” Even now, beyond version 9, there are quirks to the program that experienced users recognize and work around. And occasionally, the program will just up and crash, taking any unsaved work along with it. And lastly, there are still a few curious omissions from the list of things that you can do with the programming (formatting and structure) side of things. But for the most part, once you’ve learned the appropriate time and place to use FrameMaker, these annoyances dull themselves to a dull buzz in the back of your head, overwhelmed by the functionality that is provided despite the drawbacks.

Where does Framemaker fall short? Short, graphical pieces. If you’re creating a bowling club newsletter, you’re probably not going to want to use Framemaker. A layout in InDesign is probably going to be easy to have graphical “pop,” and since you’re not creating 200 pages at a time (if you are, your bowling club newsletter is far too long), much of the power of Framemaker’s large document features is going to be lost. On the other hand, if you’re creating a 400 page novel, you’re probably in the realm of Framemaker usage. A 400 page Word file is incredibly unstable. A collection of chapter files will be hard to maintain with respect to numbering and order. Framemaker, however, could bundle your chapter files into a book, number them, and maintain the order. And make pizza.

As a concrete example, I’m currently using Framemaker to manage the novel I’m working on. I’ve got a collection of chapter files bundled into a book. A few chapters that aren’t used any more are still around for reference, but not included in the book, giving no chance that they’ll “accidentally” be printed out and shown. I’ve got a (simple but effective) structured control document making sure that each chapter is properly formatted. Front matter and content numbering is handled by the book file, and a few variables are used to ensure that the book title and my name aren’t accidentally mistyped in the various places they appear in the book. It’s a great way to run the project, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wisconsin Wins And No One Watched

Senor Pez — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 00:55:47 +0000

LAS VEGAS - SEPTEMBER 04: John Clay #32 of the Wisconsin Badgers runs for yardage against Ronnie Paulo #36 and Mike Grant #25 of the UNLV Rebels during the first quarter of their game at Sam Boyd Stadium September 4, 2010 in Las Vegas, Nevada. Wisconsin won 41-21. (Photo by Ethan Miller/Getty Images)

Versus television was nice enough to explain why, again, Wisconsin didn’t kick off their game until 8:00 Vegas time, which translated to “damn late” back in Wisconsin time. The temperature at the start of the game was a whopping 99 degrees, the hottest game ever played in Badger football history. Wow. Thanks for that educational piece, Versus. Who would have thought a desert would be hot?

It’s hard to argue against the game, though. As is typical, Wisconsin and it’s players got a trip to Vegas, gave Badgers fans a reason to go to Vegas, and got to open the season by beating the snot out of a really poor UNLV team. All in all, despite the fact that the late start time meant most of the heartland was probably out drinking or already passed out by halftime, a good season opener.

Wisconsin’s offense appeared to be clicking from the start of the game, as they leapt out to an early 14 point lead. But it would also be offensive miscues that would allow the Rebels back into the game: An interception return for a touchdown would give the Rebels the first score, and a long fumble recovery would set up an easy touchdown. Halftime showed a drastic difference in yards gained, but a tight 17-14 game.

The Wisconsin offense would put it together in the second half. It didn’t commit the mistakes that had plagued them the first half. A defensive score would combine with three straight scoring drives by the offense to put the game away before the fourth quarter. This was a good thing, since at that point, I went to bed, though UNLV would score again. I’d prefer to think it was against scrubs sent in for mop-up duty.

All in all, a good game for Wisconsin. There are definitely cobwebs during the first game of the year, and even good teams will always have a few hiccups. Wisconsin’s hiccups caused a few anxious moments during their first half of football this year, and Badgers fans hope that they were just first-game jitters, and not something that is endemic to the program. They’ll find out shortly.

Purdue Not Sharp Enough

Senor Pez — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 05:04:13 +0000

Purdue quarterback Robert Marve, left, is chased by Notre Dame cornerback Gary Gray during the second quarter of an NCAA college football game in South Bend, Ind., Saturday, Sept. 4, 2010. (AP Photo/Darron Cummings)

To call expectations high for the Notre Dame football team this year would be an understatement, to say the least. After a 6-6 year under Charlie Weis, Notre Dame decided to part ways with the Round Mound and take in successful Cincinnati coach Brian Kelly. Notre Dame is a school that demands excellence. In some ways, it’s one of the things that… “endear”… Notre Dame fans and alumni to we plebes.

Purdue, on the other hand, is under second year head coach Danny Hope. If I’m not already on record about it, I’m not exactly the biggest Danny Hope fan in the world. I felt that before last year, Purdue’s program was at a crossroads with the departure of Joe Tiller, who was a fantastic coach and a mediocre recruiter. By going with Hope, they chose their path.

Which brings us to the showdown at Notre Dame stadium. One team was looking to improve on a 6-6 season that saw them not go to a bowl game. The other was looking to improve on a 5-7 season that saw them not go to a bowl game.

After a few defensive stops, the Irish offense caught fire and marched to a 10 point lead. The teams would trade field goals, leaving Purdue facing a 10 point deficit following halftime, which would only get worse after the Irish’s first drive of the second half would find the endzone. Down by 17, it would prove to be too much for the Boilermakers to recover from. The game would end 23-12, with Purdue covering the 13.5 point spread, but not winning the battle that shows up in conference standings.

Purdue had their chances in the game, but mistakes would always creep into the game. I understand that it’s the first game of the year. I understand that you’ve got a new quarterback under center. I understand that you are surrounded by 81 thousand screaming lunatics that want nothing more than to return to their dorms so they can continue drinking. But it’s the continuation of a story we saw last year with Danny Hope.

Let’s take a quick look at the “well, it could have been closer” moments:

Interception thrown by Robert Marve on the second drive of the game. Getting a score early — any score, even a field goal — is of vital importance on the road to shut the crowd up. Notre Dame would come out firing on their next drive.
Another Interception thrown, this one right on the goal line after a long drive during which Purdue was already down 13 points. Yes, the Boilermakers followed up with a safety, but I’d still rather have seen the 7 points.
Down by 8, starting from their own 12, the Boilermakers managed to: Gain no yards offensively, lose 8 yards to penalties, and have to burn a precious timeout. When you’re within one score, you’ve got to execute. That’s what good teams do. Instead, Notre Dame got good field position and converted that to a field goal to put the game out of reach.

There’s not reason to doubt the Boilermakers yet, though. There were a lot of good things happening. Despite seeming to run for his life on every play, and throwing two really critical interceptions, Robert Marve was effective and poised. Dan Dierking was effective in the running game when the Boilermakers needed a change of pace. The defense had some issues, but judging them against one game is a hard task.

And besides, no one really expected Purdue to compete in this game anyway. After all, Notre Dame had won 6 games last year, far superior to what this Purdue program had accomplished.

Big Ten* Football Divisional Nightmare

Senor Pez — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 17:55:08 +0000

The new Big Ten Divisions! Aren't we excited!

You know what makes the Iron Bowl so very, very special? No, not the BBQ. No, not the cheerleaders. No, not even the amusing levels and hate that start to emenate from both sides of the state of Alabama.

What makes the Iron Bowl special is the fact that it happens once a year, and can ruin seasons. You’re not just beating Auburn. You’re keeping Auburn from ruining a perfectly good season.

The Big Ten* forgot this in its scramble to create two divisions, and its starry-eyed goal of having tOSU and Michigan in separate divisions so that they could meet in the Big Ten Championship Game(tm) every year. How does that make you feel, Little Ten? The Big Ten* should just go and name the divisions “Woody” and “Bo” and remind the Little Ten of how they really feel about the rabble.

There were ramblings about “coference records since 1992″ and “preserving traditional rivalries” and other incoherent, worthless bullshit being spewed by Jim Delany during his cycle of press time this week. The Big Ten* Network even backed him up, showing that 60% of fans covered by a poll run by BTN supported the new divisions. Which I found odd, since the poll results were released minutes after the official announcement (hours after the ESPN leak, to be fair)… and since Internet polls are notoriously inaccurate.

The biggest screwjob, of course, is Wisconsin. Wisconsin has no “traditional” rival, and has instead settled on “natural” rivalries instead. For years. Minnesota and Iowa, two of Wisconsin’s natural rivals, play each other in their traditional rivalry game. Northwestern is the same, playing Illinois. With the conference divisional split, Wisconsin lost every rival they had. There isn’t a single team in their division that they have any sort of history with. The closest you can get is Illinois, but Sparkling White-Urbana has never been a destination spot for the State Street crowd.

Of course, that’s not the only reason to hate the divisions. Take Purdue, for example, which now gets the fun experiences of Camp Randall, Beaver Stadium, and the Horseshoe every other year, as well as a boring manufactured rivalry against CORN. Because let me tell you, nothing gets a Purdue fan’s blood boiling like the Iowa Hawkeyes. God damn, we Purdue people hate ethanol SO MUCH. RAGE!

They made the case that the divisions were designed with “competitive balance” in mind, and all I have to say about that is: BAH. Okay, so Oklahoma fans might not agree, but there’s nothing wrong with a little imbalance between the conferences. Why should we assume that Oklahoma would have beaten Texas in the Big XII championship game when they couldn’t beat them in the regular season? Why shouldn’t the Big Ten*’s dream be tOSU and Michigan playing the last game of the season for the right to go to the Championship, instead of dulling the importance of the game because they’re not scrapping for the same divisional crown and a ticket to Lucas Oil Warehouse?

Since the divisions are based on it, I suppose they also consider that competitive balance can change? Does this mean we’ll see new divisions every year? I hope so. Nothing could be better for the Big Ten* than creating new divisions based on the past 20 years of your program’s performance. It’s like a horribly-broken form of relegation; Purdue’s pretty much boned until the Colletto years drop out of the window.

What’s that? You say my proposal for new divisions every year based on a window of 20 years of results is crazy? How is it any crazier than doing that process once and then sticking with those results for years moving forward. College football is like a mutual fund: Past performance is no indicator of future success. If the next few years prove to be horribly unbalanced, despite their (misguided) efforts to make it not so, will they just redivision to suit their whims? And if you’re a strong team in the weak division, wouldn’t that be terribly unfair to you?

At least they haven’t made a decision on basketball yet. Because if the divisions stay this way, basketball would be a joke. What will probably happen is different divisional alignment for basketball, and if you don’t think that’s all kinds of stupid, I’m not sure why you’re here.

2010 Big Ten* Season Predictions

Senor Pez — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 23:18:00 +0000

Here we go again. Another season of college football. There’s so much to look forward to this year: No Tim Tebow. The Big Ten*’s last year of only being slightly incorrect before they drift off into being significantly incorrect. No Tim Tebow. A top-heavy conference with a legitimate national title contender and a title dark horse, both kind of hoping that Alabama can’t survive the rigors of the SEC season. And did I mention: No Tim Tebow?

As always, there’s a disclaimer and promise that I’ll include at the top of the predictions. I’m not sure why I’m compelled to do it, but I do. The predictions are totally and horrifically unscientific. In a lot of cases, I’m just making guesses. I’m not sitting down with a schedule and saying “yeah, this team will have X wins.” Me? I’m making mostly-random picks colored by various facets of hate toward the teams involved.

And unless I stop blogging (highly likely), I’ll come back at the end of the season and revisit my prediction, which is something those talking heads at ESPN don’t do, since that would expose them to be completely inadequate at “guessing.” I’m already considered highly inadequate, so I have nothing to lose.

So, without further rambling, the list:

The Ohio State University: It hurts me to say this. It really does. Actual**, physical** pain. Ohio State might — might — have the best team in the country.
As an aside, the tOSU fans I met at the Big Ten* Basketball Tournament were pretty nice.

Okay, but back to the football Buckeyes. The defense should be solid. The offense, and this isn’t a repeat of last year, will depend on how much Terrell Pryor has developed. If he’s done his homework in the offseason, he’ll have a passing game to compliment their running game, and could be the offensive juggernaut that everyone has been waiting for.

There isn’t a game on the schedule that tOSU should lose, but there will be tough tests, to be sure. They have to go to CORN. They’ll have to Jump Around. But outside of those, even the away games might be considered as home games, and the question at the end of the season might not be if tOSU is the Big Ten* Champion, but if they’ll get a shot at something bigger.
Iowa Hawkeyes: Oh, Kirk Ferentz, I once doubted you. You taught me a lesson by finishing about 16 spots higher in the Big Ten* standings than predicted.
For CORN, it’ll be business as usual: Plug a few more corn-fed meatheads into the line, and let a quarterback who will play way over his head for his entire career tear up the opposition. The defense will probably be the patented “bend but don’t break” variety that Ferentz should trademark.

The biggest test on the schedule is the showdown with tOSU, of course. The Buckeyes come into Iowa City, it’ll probably be one of those late-night games with Kirk Herbstreit calling the game as Brent Musburger rambling in the background and the ethanol-fueled crowd in a frenzy. Winning that game could be for a Big Ten* championship, and depending on what’s happened elsewhere, a possible opportunity for a National Champion dark horse to emerge.
Wisconsin Badgers: Like CORN, the Badgers have a formula. Find the five biggest dudes on State Street, put them in front of a quarterback who you never want throwing the ball, and let the country’s largest running back run for 1,250 yards a year. The problem, which is also included in the formula, is that the defense is good up front, okay in the linebackers, and dreadful in the deep secondary.
The Badgers have to play CORN and tOSU in consecutive weeks. While they thankfully get tOSU at Camp Randall, and they should steamroll a lot of teams with their “lets destroy John Clay’s body” offense, the defense might not have the bullets to slow down the more prolific offenses that they’ll see. Unlike the state’s other football team of consequence, they’re not going to be able to simply outscore their opponents.
Penn State “What the hell are” Nittany Lions: Ever see an undertalented team win on determination? Where the scrappy underdogs get a motivational speech, and suddenly every single one of them is Ray Nitschke/Jim Brown/He Hate Me? That’s what you’re going to see from the Lions this year. It’s sad to say that Joe Paterno looked like he was already dead in preseason interviews, but that’s the truth.
The Lions will scratch at the top of the Big Ten* echelon, but scrappy determination can only take you so far up that ladder. Quick! If you’re not a Penn State fan, name five players on this year’s team. See, that’s exactly why they’re not going to the top. But if there’s someone who can coach a team, it’s that red haired guy that’s on the sidelines next to Joe all the time.
Michigan State Spartans: Listen up, MSU, and I’ll give you a bit of a lesson in perception. If you don’t want to be known as a team that has troubles after Halloween, there are two things you can do. You can either stop winning big games early in the season, or you can stop losing cupcake games late in the season. The Big Ten* as a conference would prefer you did the latter, of course. Dropping down to universal mediocrity isn’t in the best interests of the game.
You’d have to think Mark Dantonio is on a hot seat. For the past few seasons, the Spartans have shown greater sparks than before, potential for greater and greater things. Maybe not a return to glory for the program, but something more than getting rolled in the Alamo Bowl by bad Big XII teams.

The problem with college football, however, is that time marches on, and those players that got you to your “near glory” have to move on, becoming backups in the pros. That means you’re continually reloading. What does that mean for the Spartans?

In what seems to be becoming a theme for the Big Ten*, it means that the Spartans have holes. Holes on offense. Holes on defense. They’re looking for ways to plug those holes, and have an early season schedule that might work in their favor, since it falls before Halloween.
Northwestern Wildcats: Another typical Northwestern year. No talent on the roster. What talent did emerge last year has graduated, headed off to pursue their careers in jazz music, journalism, and writing the “first great post-modern American vampire social drama.” And yet I don’t think anyone — anyone — would count the Wildcats out. Because, honestly, we’ve done it before.
Pat Fitzgerald seems like the perfect coach for the Wildcats. College football really is about the coaching, when you think about it. Every year, the Wildcats surprise a team that they shouldn’t, and we’re reminded that sometimes that fourth string quarterback with a rocket arm is all it takes to beat a team on a Saturday.
Purdue Boilermakers: Probably a bit of a reach, to be honest, but I’m going for it anyway, both on heart and on “possible.” The Purdue Boilermakers are going to be like the Spanish Inquisition: Not expected, but ultimately a failure. There’s going to be a lot of “could”s in the next paragraph.
The Purdue offense could be explosive. No one knows how quarterback Robert “Not Brett” Marve is going to perform. No one knows if the five or six guys in front of him are going to be able to keep him off is back. It’s hard to say who the breakout receiver is going to be, since teams that can sit on Kevin Smith, will.

The Purdue defense could be atrocious. No one knows how a team that couldn’t stop many plays last year will play this year. No one knows if that “could be explosive” offense will just be able to roll over people and win on the virtue of “points” rather than “defense.”

The Purdue schedule could be fantastic. Nobowl Dame excepted (maybe), their noncon schedule looks easy. They don’t have to play CORN. They get to get crushed by tOSU in the middle of the season, with cupcake games the surrounding weeks. They get MSU during the Spartans’ late season swoon. The Boilermakers have always played Wisconsin tough — except for last year, of course.

That really is a lot of “could”s. One more: A 6-6 Purdue team could be the worst team in a bowl game this year. But it’s still a bowl game.
Michigan Wolverines: Since the Big Ten* will enact their divisional money-grab after this year, so that we can have a Big Ten* Championship Game(tm) in Lucas Oil Warehouse(tm) in Indianapolis(tm), IN(tm), they’re probably going to roll Michigan and tOSU into separate divisions. This means that the two can face each other in the BTCG(tm) — for the enjoyment of the fans, of course — and that their annual game will fall early in the year, in the new “conference but non-divisional” segment of the schedule.
What makes this a shame is that Michigan couldn’t be better for the last “real” tilt between the two hated rivals. I used to go to a sports bar with a Michigan fan to watch the game (in a Purdue shirt, of course). It was great fun. For you SEC fans, it’s similar to Auburn-Alabama. The difference? It’s not just about football, or even sports. People from Ohio hate everything about Michigan. Their football. Their baseball. Their people. The air they breathe. And vice versa.

Hate’s a special thing in college football, and distilling it to two games, or an early season game that decides nothing? Boring.

Also, the NCAA is probably going to clap Richy Rod in irons right there on the sidelines and hit the university with huge sanctions. Which will be entertainment for an otherwise horrific season in La Casa Grande.
Illinois Fighting REDACTED: Remember 2007? When the REDACTED made a magical run to the Rose Bowl, and everyone was like, “OMG Juice Williams is the best Juice,” and, “See, Coach Zook can do more than just recruit,” and, “Sheesh, that orange is obnoxious.”
It’s not 2007 anymore. The Juice is loose. And by loose, I mean, not playing football anymore. And Ron Zook is in a familiar position, which makes all those smug Gators fans smug. The REDACTED are going to stumble through another season, and Ron Zook can form an unemployment support group with Richy Rod.
Indiana Hoosiers: The Bucket rivalry just isn’t any fun anymore. IU has been so bad at football so long that when Purdue wins, it’s “meh” and if they lose, it’s usually because Purdue was a “meh” quality team, as well. Basketball is different.
To their credit, the Hoosiers have spent a lot of money attempting to “modernize” and “legitimatize” their program. “Defend the Rock!” is a stupid slogan for a team’s home field, but then again, I’m sure “The Horseshoe” was met with a fair amount of derision when it came into common parlance, probably to the sounds of people going, “Umm, yeah, duh?”

That being said, the Hoosiers have NOT spent a lot of effort getting “talent” and “athletes.” They’re just not to the point where they can compete with the bigger names, so they better hope to beat Kentucky. The question is: Do the Hoosiers can their coach? Or is finishing 10th in an 11 team league “good enough?”
Nebraska Cornhuskers: I don’t think the Big Ten* realizes what they’ve invited into their homes, starting next year. I had to look it up. The 2009 Cornhuskers were good, but because they didn’t have a quarterback named “Tebow,” “McCoy,” or “Bradford,” they weren’t being fed through the WWL Heisman hype-machine all year long. This is a team that got beat by a hot Virginia Tech team in Blacksburg (always a tough place to play due to the ever present smoke of burning couches) and a hot Texas Tech team. Both of those cooled off later in the season. Nebraska then had a hangover loss to Iowa State, most definitely a fluke. They still made the Big XII Championship Game(tm) presented by Dr. Pepper(R), and only lost to Texas in the Big XII title game because of a railing. All with a quarterback with a gimpy shoulder.
Oh, and their defense has a nickname. This is the same defense that took a not-terrible Arizona offense behind the woodshed in the Holiday Bowl and absolutely kicked the shit out of them, to the tune of under 125 yards in the game, fewer than 10 first downs, and, as if the first two didn’t imply it, zero points. In a bowl game. That didn’t matter.

Beware, Big Ten*. You got your twelve team, two division, BTCG(tm) wish fulfilled. What you got might not make you happy.
Minnesota Golden Gophers: Suck.
Tim Brewer, he of “big mouth” and “writing checks his program couldn’t cash,” should just clean out his office now and save the university the cost of shipping his “Coach” DVD box set to wherever he’s conducting his job search.

Bonus Pick: National Title Game
Alabama Crimson Tide vs. The Ohio State University Buckeyes
Roll tide roll.

* May not be accurate.
** Not really.

Content Design vs. Content Creation

Senor Pez — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 10:11:05 +0000

So I started this as a part of my ramblings on why the new WordPress might be hindering my blogging efforts. Like any good unplanned rant, it grew and grew until it was unwieldy and directionless, taking up paragraphs and paragraphs of content in an unrelated post, while at the same time, saying nothing.

So I did what any good author does: Steal the material and stick it in a different book.

So, back to this blogging thing. As I alluded to, back in the day, content creation wasn’t really harder or easier. You had a WYSIWYG editor, or you could use HTML tags, which is pretty much the same way it is now. I’m sure the editor is more stable now, but fundamentally, it’s the same process. Write words. Put tags around words. Publish words.

The difference was in the steps that followed. In many cases, after you’d publish words, your CSS would go crazy, your frame layout would choke, and your lists would end up looking like a blind kid with a paintball gun had placed them on the page. If you wanted something that didn’t look like a Geocities page, you had to put in a few extra steps of effort, tweaking your CSS, modifying the PHP pages that drove the site, and generally cleaning out gunk from the workings of the machine.

I enjoyed that part, too. So much, so, that part of me was compelled to make new posts, just to see how my creations would react to my existing stylesheets and what changes I’d have to make in order to keep things looking fine.

For a huge part, all of that’s a much smaller part of the process. I’ve made some tweaks to the newest WordPress, but most of it’s nothing you’d ever notice. And if that’s too much, you can create blogs through Tumblr, Bloggr, Flickr, and a whole host (get it?) of sites that apparently couldn’t afford that one last “e”.

I’ve come to the conclusion, then, that I’m more than just a content creator. A content creator is the one that writes the blog post, pens the novel, creates the chewy center of the carmel cashew turtle that you want to eat. Content designers, conversely, create the containers that hold said content. Blog structures, book layouts, that strangely shaped chocolate around the carmel cashew turtle.

A Venn Diagram indicating content creators and designers, because the Internet loves Venn diagrams. Also, it's not really based on any science, but no scale is given, so the overlap is perfectly accurate.

I’m right there, in that strangely-purple area between the two circles. I enjoy content creation and content design. I loved tweaking things on the blog to make it look good, to make it adaptable, and make it stable as much as I liked actually ranting about issues and thoughts that I once felt mattered. I enjoyed doing layout work with FrameMaker EDD’s at work. And in those moments when I’m feeling not-that-creative, sitting down and creating a print mockup of my novel provides hours of entertainment. (Sort of.)

That purple slice isn’t for everyone, though. There are folks out there who couldn’t care less about creating containers for their content. It’s there, it’s available, and that’s all that matters. They’re the ones focused on getting those words out of their brain, or the carmel out of whatever type of container one uses to store carmel. Conversely, there are those people who enjoy the content design. Choosing a font to use in a book? Figuring out what the headers and footers should look like, or what tab leaders to use in the Table of Contents? Heaven. They’re concerned with getting that content to market or the chocolate to whatever shape turtles are in.

I couldn’t live outside the purple.

Somewhere along the line, it became ingrained in my psyche that content was more about what was in the content, but also about that presentation aspect. Don’t get me wrong: There is often a part of me (usually around the month of November) when I wish I could just ignore layout aspects and focus on putting words to a page and getting maximum throughput. But even in those instances, I’m thinking, if only a little bit, about how I’d design the content, not just how I’d create it.

Where Did August Go?

Senor Pez — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 21:16:52 +0000

It’s been a month since I last blogged here. My bad. Just another failure, on some level, I suppose.

The real question is: Where the hell did August go? Is it really the end of the month? Am I really asking questions that have obvious or no answers? Why did time pass by so quickly?

Let’s take a look at what I did in the month of August.

Didn’t blog. We’ve covered this. Get over it. But more on this in a bit.
Went to the Wisconsin State Fair. It was really underwhelming this year. My parents and I have made a tradition of going in the morning, before it gets hot and crowded, to eat breakfast, wander around, and finish up in the “gadget tent.” Usually, it’s fun. While I wouldn’t say this year wasn’t fun, it lacked a certain oomph that it had in previous years. The deals and products in the gadget tent were just not as impressive. I blame the economy.
Tailgating at the Madison Half-Marathon
Tailgated at a mini-marathon. Truely awesome. And no, I don’t have a goal to tailgate at a mini-marathon for each Big Ten* school. I’ll stick with Madison, thanks.

So, back to this “not blogging” thing, because I was thinking about it instead of blogging. I think part of the problem, per se, is how easy it’s become to blog. I’m currently running WordPress. Back in the day, WordPress was a bear (and not one of those friendly bears you see in cartoons) to get working correctly. Sure, out of the box, it worked, but it sure as hell didn’t work well.

If you didn’t want lists to completely break your layout, you had to tweak CSS and PHP. If you wanted images to be something other than massive rectangles of graphical content that broke flows and frames, you had to tweak CSS and PHP. If you wanted to customize your layout? Hope you had hours on end.

I loved all of it.

The new WordPress is spectacular. When I decided to relaunch (twice, does this count as three?), one of the first things I did was get my current version of WordPress up to date. I was amazed at how easy it was to configure, and how good everything looked, straight out of the box. Sure, I did some CSS tweaking here and there, but there was nowhere near the level of effort involved in the “good” old days.

That’s part of the problem. Which I’ll explain later, because it got longer, and touched on a different subject.

I’m sure the post will appear within a month or so.

Today, I Failed

Senor Pez — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 04:30:32 +0000

The Sausage 5k was today.
I was signed up for it.

I didn’t go.

I wasn’t prepared to walk or run 5k. I’m that badly out of shape. I had plenty of time to train for the event, and I did not do that.

This is the point of course, where I should go off on how it’s not my fault. How my family didn’t raise me right. How my gym doesn’t have convenient-enough hours. How I’m working long hours and commuting long hours.

That’s not what I’m going to do.

I failed. I failed badly.

It’s through failing, and recognizing that I failed, that I can improve. Sticking my head in the sand and ignoring the problems that led to this failure won’t allow them to be fixed. Not coming up with a new goal won’t give me something else to shoot for.

And there’s a chance that I’ll fail that new goal. At which point I’ll have new lessons to learn, until there are no more lessons to learn. Failing is the best way to learn. I’d rather fail than not try.

So, what are you going to fail at next?

Nine-Tenths

Senor Pez — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 02:00:38 +0000

Diablo 2′s Hardcore mode remains fairly unique, especially given the modern trend toward MMO gaming with invincible characters. The concept of a character that only gets to die once makes for an exciting game — the knowledge that you’re going to lose both your items and the time you’ve invested makes every battle a razor’s edge.

Instead of eulogizing my characters, I decided to write stories about the unfortunate deaths they’d encounter, whether by my failings as a player, bad luck, or a battle for which they are not ready. This is one of those stories. And this was definitely due to my failings as a player!

Nine-Tenths
Lacerian, Level 9 Necromancer

Gaeleon was angry.

No, not Gaeleon. Brikok. His name was Brikok. He was still Brikok. Galeon was never angry. The momentary slip of his name made him even angrier, and a braying snarl escaped his lips. His axe flashed through the air, its rusted edge carving a slow arc through the air. He wished he could simply twist his elbow, change the flight of the blade, and carve a fatal chunk away from his own body.

Gaeleon wouldn’t allow that. He couldn’t even will himself to hit one of the curving horns that sprouted from his head.

Brikok grew even angrier at the fact that he couldn’t hurt himself, and another snarl began forming in his throat. But before it could escape, the sound choked off. Gaeleon wouldn’t allow that, either. Gaeleon had sensed . . . something . . . approaching, and forbade Brikok’s second snarl.

Brikok’s past was nothing but fading memories that seemed an eternity long past. A young warrior of the Blood Clan, he had been raised with on tales of glory and the oaths of fealty. Elders told him tales dark labyrinths long forgotten beneath the earth. Warriors told stories of might adventures capable of cutting down hordes of their best, but who carried treasures that the goatmen clans had never dreamed of once finally defeated. Brikok had practiced and trained, aimed to be the pride of his clutch.

His reward had been Gaeleon.

Brikok could vaguely remember the disgusting, vile feeling he had woken up to, like a waterfall of grease pouring down his throat, splashing into a midden heap piled in his belly. That memory was fading from Brikok’s mind at Gaeleon’s request, though, like all of his memories before that morning. He had no idea who or what Gaeleon was. The spirit in control of his body never spoke.

A skeleton appeared in the doorway. There were many denizens in these dank passages, hidden beneath a long-forgotten and crumbled tower, but this skeleton was different. This skeleton was a threat. Brikok still urged his body forward, but was a hair slower than Gaeleon’s urging. Brikok wanted to wretch at the feeling of being a passenger on one’s own limbs, his trained and conditioned body being used as a puppet.

His large axe came down hard on the weapon the skeleton held, knocking it askew. Next to him, another member of the Blood Clan stabbed hard at the skeleton’s midsection, axe clattering through exposed ribs. Brikok wondered if he’d known those Blood Clan members before Gaeleon. Were they similarly trapped by spirits, or provided other “gifts?” Had they been drawn to this forsaken place by their own will, or the will of some overriding force they could not fight against and win?

Brikok’s adversary slashed back at him, cutting a wound deep into Brikok’s side, but the damage barely slowed him. He was able to take wounds that would have felled others, the only gift he could really thank Gaeleon for. The skeleton crumpled to the ground at Gaeleon’s . . . Brikok’s . . . return strike, and the other Blood Clan member slid to his left to engage another skeleton that had appeared through the door. Before Brikok, the battle parted like a crowd of insects. Standing directly in front of him, he saw the tall, gaunt form of a human. Recognition from tales learned as a child appeared hazily in Brikok’s mind: A Death-Walker!

The man was looking away from Gaeleon, watching one of his skeletons and what appeared to be a mass of earth battle three more of his companions. Gaeleon raised the axe above his head and crossed the distance with three great, lunging steps. The man never saw the axe that cleaved his head in two, crumpling him and his creations to the ground.

Brikok wondered for a moment if the Death-Walker might have had the arcane knowledge required to free him from Gaeleon’s grasp before the spirit completely took over. The only response he got was silence, and Brikok knew that he was doomed.

“Progress” Was Made

Senor Pez — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 12:00:26 +0000

I’ve had a 50,000 word novel* hanging around a while. One of my editors got back to me with great feedback, and the other has been drafted into the armies of the damned, and they don’t have cell phones. I’m sure he’ll get back to me with edits on my draft just as soon as their campaign against the Falkland Islands wraps up.

* There is actually great debate in the NaNoWriMo community with regard to the definition of “novel,” especially since, by “modern” publishing standards, 50k words tends to be a bit on the short side. However, I side with the NaNo philosophy on this issue: “If you think you’re writing a novel, you’re writing a novel.”

That little snafu not withstanding, I’ve been attempting to transform my “first draft created in a blur throughout the month of November for my first ever NaNoWriMo win” into a “second draft that isn’t quite so horribly crafted and might have a semblance of value.” The eventual plan is to have a draft that someone wants to pay me some sort of sum of money for the publishing rights, after which I can be those filler books in the bookstore that serve to fill the small niches of the shelves not covered by books dealing with Star Wars, Twilight, Harry Potter, or Saint Louis Cardinals fans.

This is turning out to be harder than I thought.

When you’re writing a first draft, everything is new and exciting. Every word you put down on the page — in addition to getting you closer to the glorious goal of 50k for NaNoWriMo — is the next flick of a wrist, move of a hand, word of a mouth in your characters’ universe. Everything drives the story forward, by definition. Symbolism be damned. Foreshadowing be damned. Coherent clothing for your characters be damned. (Seriously, I had a character spontaneously change from jeans to a dress between lines of a conversation. Oops.)

Rewrites? Those are hard. First, there’s a lack of motivation. I had made the mistake of advertising my NaNoWriMo participation to my general [Facebook] public, and there was a screaming banshee of [Facebook] public humiliation and [Facebook] public scorn should I fail. She was always there, hovering over my shoulder, reminding me that while Caribou Coffee was usually terribly busy on a Thursday night and I was tired from a whole day of not doing anything, I had to go there. If I didn’t put 1500 more words to paper before I passed out from exhaustion tonight, I’d be behind the curve, and the banshee would get closer.

Second, there’s the operation inside the established framework. You’ve already written the scene, but now you’re rewriting it. There are even two distinct classes of the rewrite, and I’ve found both to be handcuffing. Handcuffing not in a sensual, “Oh, this is going to be a great Friday night,” sort of way, and not in a frustrating, “This is impossible, this is going to be a terrible Friday night,” sort of way, but in a way that erodes your WPM.

The Perspective Change: Writing a scene from a different perspective. I’ve already had to do this three times (more or less), since my reviewer (rightfully) found the first draft’s structure confusing and stupid and, I quote, “not worth the virtual paper Adobe PDF is putting it on.” Okay, some of that’s hyperbole. But sitting down and rewriting from a different (and in this case, less-informed) perspective makes things harder than I’d like them.
The Actor Change: This one’s even harder. Rewriting a scene without a character being present, because you’ve decided not to introduce him until a bit later, makes for tedious work. In practice, I just scrapped the original scene altogether, but the chicken-and-bailing wire construction of the first is still present in my brain, so I continue to drift toward the (now-(sometimes)-nonsensical) original flow of action.

Therein lies my biggest hurdle, then. Where the original novel was a flurry of words appearing in FrameMaker (fist bump to my large document management brosefs) and steadily driving the word count higher and higher, the rewrite is harder to measure that elusive beast of “progress.” A few nights ago, I had the opportunity to make “good progress on my novel.” And in retrospect, I did.

Even if the end result was only one page of rewrites completed. “Progress” is funny sometimes.