I’m not angry at the world, or the government, or large corporations (though I’ve sent large mental lightning bolts towards each of those on numerous past occasions). Not today. Today, I’m simply angry at myself.

That happens frequently, too.

My brain betrays me at every turn. It’s not for lack of intelligence. No, I’ve received my fair share of that. It’s not a paucity of creativity, either. I’ve got that one in spades. It’s a little thing called focus.

Let me backtrack a bit. I’m one of those people who is interested in many, many things. That’s good. I have a curious mind, and I want to find out about things, how they work, what happened when, why this is like that, and why that is like this. It’s all good.

Unfortunately, this has led me to be rather scattered over the course of my life. My lack of focus has enabled a certain penchant for flitting from one thing to the next to the next. And while that’s great for learning new stuff and keeping myself entertained, it’s really not ideal for any kind of sustained focus on meaningful projects.

Take this blog, for example. We’re coming up on its one-year anniversary. When I started blogging, my goal was to blog every day. And I did that. For about seven weeks.

Then, in September, I had what I refer to as my “mental health crisis”. Major meltdown. Big time. I was out of commission for a couple of months. I blogged occasionally, but nothing like before. After that, I had flurries of blogging activity, but it still wasn’t anything close to the way I’d started it off.

And that frustrated me. Because, you see, when you take a tendency to flit and combine it with a second tendency towards depression, you end up with one unproductive motherfucker.

And that’s me. In a nutshell. Well, the unproductive part, anyway.

So, what do I do with this inablility to sustain momentum in projects that I start?

Self-knowledge, I have found, is usually an excellent starting point. I consider myself to be extremely self-aware, and I know my tendencies like I know my address and phone number. Sometimes I’m able to strategize around them, and sometimes I’m not. It can be a bit of a crap shoot, but it’s better than not knowing myself at all.

But I’m getting way ahead of myself here. Let me take a deep breath and get back to the point I was originally going to make before blasting into that four-hundred-word rant I just dashed off.

The original notion for this post came from some musing and cogitating I got up to a few weeks ago, mostly about the aforementioned diluted focus and interest in so many things. The anger came from realizing that I’d been thinking about this post for all those weeks and still hadn’t written the goddamned thing.

Many things intervened. The self-same lack of focus numbers amongst them. As does the occasional mood swing. Not to mention a change of jobs. All perfectly legitimate reasons, but they still don’t prevent me from getting mad at myself for not blogging.

However, in with all the angst and self-blame and depression and chaos and general mayhem, a kernel of a seed of a germ of an idea took hold. And, lo and behold, it’s actually a postive idea. Break out the champagne!

Racoons are generalists as well. And, like my brain, they can be damned annoying at times.

You, see, I have come to realize that I am a generalist. I am one of those people who likes to see the big picture. I like to know how things interconnect, how one area of endeavour relates to another. Nothing delights me more than reading a book about, say, computer software, and finding that the author occasionally drifts into an anecdote about music or some equally unrelated area. It jars my brain back into the real world and reassures me that everything is connected together.

Because, you know, it is.

So my challenge is this: How do I use my generalistic tendencies to their best advantage? How to I take what I’ve regarded as a weakness and turn it into a strength? How do I put my curiosity to good use?

These, and other questions, will be the subjects of much further rumination and cogitation over the coming weeks. The fact that I’ve had this insight at all is fairly auspicious. I may be able to figure something out.

Or maybe someone reading this will comment with an idea. Who knows?

In the meantime, I’ve got my blog’s first anniversary to think about. I can’t believe I’ve been blogging (off and on) for a year now. The blog is certainly reflective of my personality: It covers many topics and takes frequent breaks. Perhaps my new insights into myself will fuel a new period of blog productivity.

Speaking of birthdays, mine is the same as my blog’s, and this year is my fiftieth. It’s hard to believe I’ve put up with my brain for this long, but I suppose it’s also testament to my own tenacity that I’ve perservered for as long as I have. At any rate, I’m going to be celebrating big time.

And reflecting on future possibilities.

Hmmm… I might even do a minor blog redesign. You never know.

Don’t forget to leave that light on.

(And, apparently, generalist is also a term used in 3D computer animation. I found a bunch of demo reels on YouTube, and I particularly liked this one by David Radford from 2008.)

I’ve never heard of anything like this happening in Canada before. One of my tweets on Twitter yesterday read: “Is it just me, or is the world getting a little bit less hospitable every single day?” It’s hard to be positive at times, especially when you see a group of anarchists, who basically don’t care about anything except, well, anarchy, hijacking a protest against a group of politicians who are out of touch with reality and don’t, quite frankly, give a rat’s ass about the people they’re supposed to be representing.

It’s the same all over. It doesn’t matter whether you’re talking about governments, huge corporations, media outlets, or religious institutions. The individual just doesn’t seem to matter any more. It’s all about the institution maintaining itself and, if possible, growing even bigger and more powerful.

Somewhere in its growth cycle, the large institution experiences a shift in priorities. Policies, procedures, and power become more important than people. The entity is too large to be flexible anymore, and the people running it don’t care about anything except their end-of-quarter bonuses.

And keeping their jobs.

I’m a dyed-in-the-wool cynic. I take everything I read, hear, and see with a grain of salt. The media may be telling us what’s going on, but they’re doing it on their terms, telling us exactly what they want us to know. They have to show us just the right images, couch things in just the right terms, so that we’ll keep watching or listening or reading, and they’ll keep getting their advertisers’ dollars.

I don’t watch or read the news much. Not only is it depressing; it’s misleading. It gives us a skewed view of the world, and inundates us with infuriating stories and disheartening images. I prefer to use the internet for my current events. At least there I have a hope of getting real opinions from real people.

And even then, my grain of salt is close at hand.

Because most people really don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.

Okay, are you about ready to click away from this post? Have you had just about enough of my cynicism and negativity for one day? Well, hang on just a bit longer, ’cause this rant is about to go in a different direction.

You see, timing is everything. And just a few days ago, before all this G-8/G-20 brouhaha erupted, I made a conscious decision to try something different with my blog. I decided to try incorporating interviews into my blogging mix. Interviews with real people. Interesting people who are doing interesting things and have interesting things to say.

I think I got things off to a good start. If you didn’t read my interview with Julie Wilson (aka The Book Madam), please go check it out. It’s interesting, it’s fun, and it’s a real change of pace and breath of fresh air in what has been, for the most part, a fairly self-indulgent blog.

You see, people are interesting. Governments and corporations don’t seem to realize this. People have things to say, stories to tell, lives to live. We’re not numbers, we’re not database entries, and we’re not blobs of product on an assembly line. Each of us is unique, and each of us has our own, equally unique, contribution to make to the world.

I don’t always remember this. I don’t experience enlightenment every day. Hell, not even most days. It’s hard to ponder an individual’s unique contribution to the universe when said individual is shouting obsenities at the person who just caught them trying to shoplift, or when they’re grumbling at you because they want to pay the American price for a book instead of the Canadian price. On such occasions, it’s hard enough just to keep a civil tongue in your head.

Because people can be damned stupid and inconsiderate a lot of the time.

But we don’t have to get to know everybody we meet. Can you imagine how overwhelming that would be? The world is a pretty overwhelming place on the best of days. Truth is, we don’t even have much in common with most people we meet. And that’s okay. Everyone has their own way to rock and roll. And I have no problem with anyone doing their thing, as long as it doesn’t interfere with me doing mine.

And my thing, as of this moment, is articulating my view of things and trying to make sense of an increasingly nonsensical world.

When I worked for Academic Computing Services at Dalhousie University many years ago, one of the things I did was format and edit the campus IT newsletter, which was called Information Technology Update. While I enjoyed the layout and production process, I also contributed to the publication with the occasional article and, eventually, a regular column, which I entitled “The Human Factor”, in which I made a point of relating all our marvellous technological advances to the reason it all exists to begin with: Us.

Even back then, I was cognizant of the submersion of the individual into an ever-growing miasma of data. I felt it important to poke my head up from the swirls of toxic mist and say, “Hey! Listen! We’re still human beings out here!” The exclamation holds true today more than ever.

I’m glad that BookCamp Halifax happened when it did, because it stimulated my mind and got me talking to a bunch of really interesting people. And that sparked me to revisit the interview thing for my blog. And it’s something I’ll be doing again.

And again.

Because people are interesting.

Don’t forget to leave the light on.

(And, just to add yet another new twist to my ever-expanding blog, here’s my very first video blog entry, embedded from the Faltarego YouTube channel.)

The interview was done via e-mail. All questions were sent to Julie at once, and she typed up her answers and sent ‘em back.

Grab a beverage. This is a long post.

Enjoy.

Julie: I wouldn’t say I’m a visionary, because I’m still of the old school where follow-through is everything. Which is ridiculous, because at some point I learned to start calling myself a writer even if I’m not being published. I’m definitely a dreamer. Maybe a sounder-outer? Anyone who’s talked with me knows I go off a lot. Not the same as sounding off, which I also do from time to time. But like any writer, I suppose, I need to edit. So I sound things out. A lot gets tossed aside. And of late I’ve been incredibly lucky to have found a group of people in, or on the peripheries of publishing, who seem to genuinely appreciate that process.

Photo by Carl W. Heindl

And, of course, my thing is community. Not so much solidarity and all that, but the need for a lot of people to each perform a little task so that together we can mark a larger space. Sometimes, I’m happy to perform that little task alone. In the past year or so, however, I’ve wanted to be at the forefront. I think both roles indicate leadership. But it’s not like once we’re all airborne I have a clue as to how we’ll stay up, or where the landing strip is, for that matter. I was on a Porter flight with Nic Boshart heading to BookCamp Halifax, and as we were landing he started laughing about how bizarre it is that we ever thought we could get, and keep, a however-many-ton craft in air using some fans. Let’s just say that I spend a lot of time cursing once I get my own crafts off the ground.

Oh! You know what I am?! An only child.

Beyond that, I like supporting good people with good ideas. I support action. I support change. I support walking away. I wish more people would.

Or, to answer the question you as possibly intended, I’m a writer and author/book promoter who has managed to secure just enough clients that I get to work only with people I admire in areas of reputation management, visibility, and discovera…

Fuck it, I’m Aquaman. Next question.

Q: Where did the name Book Madam come from?

Julie: I was running an online contest with Indigo, then McNally Robinson. Just a wee thing. I was offering my services as a personal book shopper. The contest ran on Twitter, so I asked entrants to submit a short bio in ten words. From there, I boasted that I’d “hook” them up with a book. I decided to create a separate feed for the contest, and solicited names. A number of people really liked the intimacy of being “hooked up”, so the shortlist was created pretty quickly. Frankly, I wanted Book Daddy. But I think it was Jaime Woo who landed on Book Madam. (No ‘e’.)

At first, it took some time to take myself seriously. But I loved the idea of a Madam learning about your tastes and then guiding you to Door #2 and the hope that the reader would come away satisfied. This is what hand selling is all about. And reader services, for that matter. Listening to a person in the hope that you can help them get what they want. And now that we have The Associates in place at BookMadam.com, with more to come, I really feel that we’ve hit upon something, a place where online visitors can go and pick and choose from a variety of blog posts and personalities to suit your every need. We’re all also quite social beings. We feel very much of this community.

Ultimately, though, in choosing each Associate, I wanted individuals who also had other skill sets or unique identities. I know it sounds silly, but I love, for instance, that Kimberly Walsh knows so much about dachshunds, or that Sean Cranbury knows so much about music, or that Nic Boshart does those insane MS Paint cartoons (not to mention that he’s also a publisher), and so on. Publishing is about stories, and I believe that the things each Associate shares, or even the way in which they share them, echoes that whole idea that it’s not so much the story as how it’s told. And I really dig these guys. I like hanging out with them. They bring a lot to my world. (That’s right! F@ck you, Cranbury!) (Little inside joke there.)

Q: Would you agree with the estimation that you are becoming an internet celebrity?

Julie: Good god, man, for real? I’ll concede that in a wee corner of this industry there are people who know of me and there have been times when I can see something in their eyes when we finally meet that makes me wish I’d tried a little harder with my hair that day. I had that experience recently with an author, and it kind of blew me away. Her face completely lit up and, for a second, I found myself thinking, “Oh, this is awkward. Poor thing thinks I’m someone else.” But, no; she was just really happy to see me. But I’m a person who doesn’t play it very close to the chest in a highly competitive industry. People are constantly telling me to stop sounding out my ideas. But, so far, every time I have has lead to a new opportunity or conversation. So, to that end, I’m not so much a celebrity as I am a person who has had the tremendous good fortune to get to know a lot of people I tend to connect with. Then again, now that everyone knows I’m Aquaman, I may have to change my phone number.

Q: How have books come to be such important part of your life?

Here’s the thing. I’m not well-read. I’m trying to change that. I have a hard time keeping focus. I don’t know if it’s anything beyond the usual response to a fast-paced world, but I still haven’t found the Off switch that shuts out the world, no matter where I am, so that I can just sit with a book for a full day, or days on end. Even as a kid, my report cards all said that I was plenty smart but that my lack of focus was holding me back.

In hindsight, I’d argue that I needed something else to focus on. But that feedback extended into university where I was often told that I’d never get the grades to go to teacher’s college (my original plan) or to pursue my Master’s degree (my fall back plan) if I couldn’t produce papers that showed I knew how to research and respond. I’d hand in these philosophical beasts with, like, five support titles. As long as I can remember, the “real work” has always gotten in the way of “what I want to do.” See the aforementioned reference to being an only child.

Yet, even if I have trouble reading, I’ve always understood that books were legitimate, socially-acceptable method of effectively being alone with yourself. You might stumble across me in a room sitting alone and staring into space. Put a book in my hand and I’m less creepy. Book as prop has always intrigued me.

Secondary to that, I love the idea of book as social object, the thing around which we conduct all kinds of conversations. Book as vessel also inspires me, although I’m personally more taken by recitation, which may be why I’ve taken to recording poets in my spare time and for clients.

Ultimately, I love books because I want to write them. And as a social being who supports the efforts and visions of her peers, it makes sense that I should want to know more about those whose company I wish to keep. And in those rare moments when I’m capable of focus, there are strings of words that have changed my life. Was it Alice Munro who said that writing was the best way she could imagine being alive in the world? I couldn’t disagree with that. But when the words don’t come, just even the knowledge that someone else found them is one of the greatest gifts I can imagine.

Q: From what I know about you, I get the impression that you wear a number of hats. Is my perception correct? What sorts of things are you involved in, and which of them pay the bills?

Julie: I do a lot of one-offs, so the appearance could be that I’m working with or for a lot of organizations. I suppose I wear a lot of hats in that I don’t have a team, so any time I get myself into something, I’m responsible for producing, managing, and maintaining the project. But I like to think (or hope) that most of it’s part of a rough draft for some larger job description or project or community or something I haven’t yet put my finger on.

For instance, a few years ago, I don’t know that I could have pronounced myself The Book Madam without a solid following for Seen Reading, some professional credibility from my time at House of Anansi Press, and even a little bit of notoriety for doing things like getting my publisher kicked off Facebook for creating a friendship profile for a corporation, and, most certainly, for my small ‘s’ snafu with an Indigo bookseller over copyright protection and whether what I was doing at Seen Reading was in violation of that. I got a lot of public support, including from Indigo Corp, which signaled to me that the time was right.

I had no clue what the plan was, but I went after ECW Press to sign a companion guide to True Blood, the savviest thing I’ve ever done, then turned my attention to my relationship. Would it bear the weight of me leaving my job at Anansi? All signs pointed to yes. And I’d say within minutes of announcing my departure, things started to fall into place, including a guest host gig for the CBC Book Club during Canada Reads. That provided me with a huge platform from which I encouraged bloggers and tweeters to get more involved with the book club, which, in turn, increased my visibility, which, in turn, showed a lot of people that I was genuine. I wasn’t selling anything. Cause I wasn’t making anything.

That’s when I started attracting paying clients. I have a few, and it’s enough that I don’t have to accept everything that comes my way, much of which are requests from authors to help with their publicity, which isn’t exactly what I do. One of my clients pays with grant money. That project centres around creating a poetry performance archive and finding ways to disseminate those recordings. Right up my alley. Another client pays out of pocket to tutor in all matters to do with social media and online reputation management. It’s a great relationship. Very organic considering that it sounds so manufactured. But it’s not. There’s a new game in town: How to appear to be in all the right places, still get your job done, and not leave a social trail that would suggest you’ve been on Twitter all day.

All to say, that I liken entrepreneurial endeavors to trying to feel a breeze on a day on which there’s no wind. It’s only going to happen if you put yourself in motion. And as with most freelancers, paying the bills isn’t the problem so much as having money in place when the bills arrive. (Lots of hurry up and wait.)

Q: Are you doing the sorts of things that you’ve always imagined yourself doing? Did you have a plan of attack?

Julie: I don’t know that I knew it would be books, but I’m not surprised that I’m doing things associated with stories and ideas and social experiments. That’s really exciting for me. Certainly, I feel as if I’m being taken seriously. To be perfectly honest though, I’m still waiting for that one job that pays enough and allows me to let my freak flag fly on behalf of all publishers, books, and authors.

I like the energy rush that comes from being able to play around with ideas of book and author promotion, but it can get exhausting when it’s for a number of different clients. In my perfect world, I’m writing part-time and working in a management role for an organization that has a large enough community that we can measure the impact and pleasure of any number of ideas I have floating above my head. And just enough influence that I can keep myself on the Griffin invite list and get myself back onto the Giller invite list. Hell, if I have to write a shortlisted book, that’s what I’ll do. I’m Aquaman!

Q: What are your thoughts on the whole e-book phenomenon?

Julie: Don’t quote me, but I think we’ll buy more books; non-traditional consumers will start buying books (being able to share them freely will be the key, I’d suspect); but I’m not convinced we see evidence that more people are reading necessarily, although I could be persuaded to believe that younger consumers will teach themselves to be lifelong readers on such devices. And while I don’t think the printed book is going anywhere, I’d like to see something on the effect of e-books and e-reading on older generations. Do you know? Will they stop buying books altogether and commit instead to rereading what they already own?

Not sure where I’m going with this, but issues of access concern me. When my grandmother died, we found a drawer of old Walkmans with the play button depressed. She kept buying new ones because she couldn’t see the buttons well enough to know that she was draining the batteries. This was a woman of very sharp mind. Her senses, however, were another story. I can’t even imagine what she’d do with an e-reader, yet at the time of her death she was probably one of the best read people I’d ever known.

For different reasons, I don’t know where this leaves underprivileged people. It’s not to say that e-books will isolate readers to the farthest corners, but I don’t necessarily see them as social glue either. But while you can be certain we’ll continue to top up our landfills with this new gadget or that, and the media will cover every movement, I’d hate to see the disenfranchised left curbside.

Q: How many of the Canadian BookCamps have you attended, and what sorts of experiences have you had with them?

Julie: I’ve been to the first two camps in Toronto, and the inaugural camps in Vancouver and Halifax. Hey, is that all of them so far? Have I collected the set?

All of the experiences have been great. I go with very low expectations. I don’t rely on the panelists to go for gold. If just one person says one thing that gets me thinking, I’m ecstatic and won’t stop talking about it until I’ve found a release for the idea.

The first year in Toronto was electric. I don’t know that that was repeated this past year. I think that’s a reflection of how far the industry has come in terms of knowing one another online, in person, and what each of us is up to. Last year was like trying to catch fire flies in a jar, there were so many faces to connect with names. It was also much less corporate. Again, I see that as a sign of the success of last year’s camp that the industry understood it had to have a face this year. Where do they go next year? Not sure, but I suspect the way the panels are organized has to change drastically.

That said, people are still talking about the geolocation seminar, a good ol’ fashioned brainstorm session that was led by Ashleigh Gardner who is exceptionally good at knowing how to keep a room enthused and on track. The Toronto team has a really hard task because its demographic is a gong show of personalities and expectations. A big, happy family, mind you. But it must be like trying to plan a wedding. How could you possibly please everyone? They do a tremendous job. I was joking recently that I think the key to future success is to take us out of our comfort zones. In Toronto, that means off the transit lines. Dare we?

Vancouver was a whole other vibe. I was an outsider, so I barely knew anyone by face. I knew Sean Cranbury and Monique Trottier quite well, but had never socialized with them. And I got to see Deanna McFadden from HarperCollins facilitate for the first time, something that I’ll cherish when she’s pulling in $80,000 to speak at annual AGMs about how to stay passionate in the industry.

I feel the same about the first time I saw Sean speak at the first Toronto BookCamp and thought, “Who the hell is this Richard Branson character?” No one knew this guy. Yet he flew in, all chill, and wearing his shorts and shit. I had no idea he was taking as big a chance as I was. Going it alone. He’s such a good guy and a close buddy now. That’s what BookCamp does; it brings the right kind of characters together who otherwise just can’t find the time or opportunity to land on each other’s radar.

It happened again this year in Halifax when I realized just how on the ball Meghan MacDonald is. It took flying to Halifax, out of our comfort zones, for me to see that there could be a way to work together, even if our professional paths don’t collide. And, of course, the lovely Kimberly Walsh proved to be only lovelier, billeting me in her house.

This might all sound airy-fairy, but it’s kind of the point in publishing. Connecting is one thing; but how we connect will determine the future of the industry. There are people who connect just fine on the level of tech and production. I’m not one of those people. So I absolutely need platforms like BookCamp to perform outreach and sit in the same rooms with my peers long enough that if they start out thinking I’m a wing nut, I have time to change their minds by the time we hit the pub. I see it this way: I can’t fish worth shit. Can’t read the waters. Can’t touch a worm. But if you drop my line, I know when to set the hook. That’s all I got! That’s it! I can’t even get the fish into the cooler. So gatherings like this are not only fun, they’re key for people like me with this niche skill set.

Q: I’ve just finished a book called L:and things come apart by Ian Orti, which is like a painting made of words. The way this book is put together, both in terms of the writing and the physical production, make it, to my mind, an objet d’art, something both to read and to hold. Do you think this sort of book is in danger of disappearing, or do small publishers like Invisible have a necessary place in our culture?

Julie: Not only do I think books like this have a place, I think they’ll become hugely popular. As I type this, I’m looking at a chapbook, part of The Pocket Canon Revue put out by Misprints Press, a series that ended a few years ago. The Revue published anonymous authors and was created in part in response to writers who had works that were either deemed unsaleable or fell outside the identity the author was building for him/herself. There may have also been some sexy bits. *titter*

Each edition was launched with a cool party and embodied a real sense of celebration for both product and process. There are books you want to own because they come with something extra. Not hyperlinked text or book club questions. In person, community-driven value. When every bookstore, provided they still exist, is fit with a Print-On-Demand machine of some sort, the consumer will never leave empty-handed, because the bookseller will always have what the consumer wants or needs. To my mind, this means that booksellers will be able to get back to the business, actual business, of selling the books they love, support, and know something about.

That said, while e-readers and e-books will continue to get cheaper, my one concern is that, like Polaroid film, once a staple item in every household, ink and print production materials will become more and more expensive. That said, Invisible is one helluva publisher to watch. I defer to them. I plan to work with them in some way, some day, not only because I think they’re smart and sassy, but because as an author, I’d feel supremely confident that they know how to produce and tag books in ways that will make sure the author’s work is locatable and discoverable no matter what its format. (Pay up, Boshart!)

Q: In your experience, is technology really helping us as much as the pundits tell us it is? Or is everything just moving too fast nowadays?

If I were to look at how many devices I own, I’d be tempted to say that technology is moving too fast. But we know that not to be the case. For instance, I’m sure we’ve already figured out time travel, but now we have to find a palatable way to make the consumer pay for it in increments. The only reason they haven’t released the iCapsule is because, unlike poor battery life or DRM, no developer wants to see, “Thanks, loser! My head is stuck in South Miami!” in their reviews. So I’m hesitant to weigh in because it’s probably all worked out.

My goal is not to fall for it every step of the way and to try to find ways to implement organic, community-driven projects that force technology to make space for as many individual stories as possible. Also, see aforementioned reference to access. What technology will provide is more opportunities for more people to create and disseminate their stories, a very real concern for those who won’t have access to the tools or trade.

Q: Finally, if you can, would you sum up the Book Madam Way? That is to say, what’s your philosophy on life, the universe, and, well, everything?

Is Shamon! an answer? It’s tough. Can you poll some people? There’s my answer! Crowd source!

It’s just that over the last year or so, I haven’t been reading as much as I usually do. I’ve been noticing that I don’t have as much fresh material to recommend to customers lately. I just keep recommending the same books to whoever asks my opinion.

And that’s lame.

So, volunteering to help organize BookCamp Halifax was just the thing. I didn’t realize it was going to be just the thing, but it turned out that way. Not only did I meet a lot of great people (many of whom I knew online but not in-the-flesh), but I also learned a lot about books, publishing, book-related technology, and this little concept known as “community”.

Example: If I hadn’t volunteered with BookCamp, I would not have met my co-organizer Robbie MacGregor and would not, then, have been introduced by him to a little book called L:and things come apart written by Ian Orti. As a consumer of a lot of what most folks might call “mainstream fiction”, this was a foray into literary territory I hadn’t visited for a long time. I think the last time I read anything this artistic, imaginative, and thought-provoking was, oh, back in 2004, when I read The Dreamlife of Bridges by Robert Strandquist and wrote a review of it for The Antigonish Review.

My brain needs more of this kind of stimulation. I need to step away from the Dan Browns and Michael Crichtons once in a while. That’s not to take anything away from the pure escapism of Dan Brown and the meticulous research and vivid imagination of Michael Crichton (who I will sorely miss, may he rest in peace), but it’s refreshing to read a book that is Art rather than one that is a movie-on-paper.

Yes, yes. I know. All authors are artists. It’s just that some are a bit more… um… artistic than others. To my mind, there’s a big difference between spinning a good yarn and crafting a piece of written work that steps beyond story and actually starts to spread itself through the reader’s mind like a fine web. It settles there, fastens itself to your neurons, and makes you pay attention.

I love a good yarn. No question about it. I appreciate a tale that will whisk me away and get me turning those pages. Sometimes I just want to be entertained and told a story. That’s the kind of writing I do myself. I have no delusions about my style. When it comes to allegory, allusion, and analogy, I’m all thumbs. I like to get characters talking to each other and seeing what happens next.

But as a reader, it’s nice to challenge myself once in a while, read a work that is not an obvious A-to-B-to-C narrative. Throw my preconceptions out the window and look at the world through a different set of eyes. It’s called expanding one’s horizons.

So, yes, the BookCamp experience has juiced my brain up a bit for the literature. But it’s done something else as well. I was so stimulated by the discussions at the event, and so intrigued and impressed by the people I met there, that I began to revisit a notion I’d entertained back when I first started this blog.

And that is the notion of interviewing interesting people. It’s not something I’ve ever done, and I have no training in journalism, but the concept is intriguing, and because I’m a curious person with a slightly skewed view of the world, I’m pretty sure I can come up with an interesting question or two.

So, I’m doing it. It’s a done deal. I’m taking my rediscovered literary zeal and my rediscovered fascination with people and setting off into the hinter-net with my binoculars and compass to track the species known as “interview subject.”

So watch this space. In the next day or so, I’ll be posting an interview with my first victim, book maven and publicist extraodinaire Julie Wilson (also known as The Book Madam), whose generosity of spirit has given me a tremendous shot in the arm in terms of getting this new aspect of my blog started.

What can I say? I’m excited.

Don’t forget to leave the light on.

(Here’s a brilliant stop-motion book trailer for L:and things come apart, put together by the author, Ian Orti.)

There are ninety-one countries on the list I looked at, and every last one of them publishes some number of books, either large or small, every single year. The top four countries (U.K, U.S., China, and Russia) each publish more than 100,000 books each year. Forty-seven of the ninety-one countries publish more than a thousand books per year.

What I’m saying is: That’s a lot of books.

Hundreds of thousands of books. Millions of pages. Tens of millions of paragraphs. Hundreds of millions of sentences.

All written by people.

In our flashy, souped-up, high-tech world, it’s easy to forget that actual human beings are the source of just about everything we take in. It’s especially easy to forget this when you look at all the technology involved in producing most of our entertainment.

Take something like Iron Man 2, for example. You know, that movie I blogged about for a whole week before I dropped off the face of the earth for a month or so. There is so much technology in that film and so many people involved in its making that it’s hard to see the trees for the forest. Each of the names listed in the (very long) credits at the end of the film represents an actual living, breathing person who is probably passionate about the job he or she does in the film industry.

But let us return to the humble book. Not nearly so many people involved in its production. Yes, there are editors and printers and typesetters and graphic designers and all the trappings of mass market manufacture. But at its heart, the book is the product of one mind. One heart. One person.

The author.

As I mentioned in a previous blog post, I was involved in organizing a little thing we like to call BookCamp Halifax, which took place on June 5th. It was a remarkable day, for a number of reasons. First off, it was the very first BookCamp ever to be held in Halifax, which is in itself cause for a good bit of cheer. Secondly, the feeling of community of was so palpable through the event that most of us didn’t even notice how small a group we were. Small but mighty, is how I called it. And thirdly, I got to meet some very fine folk from Toronto who were headed to the AGM of the ACP and managed to swing down a few days early to grace our little shindig.

Now, I don’t mean anything pejorative by my use of those diminutive adjectives. Far from it. Sure, we organizers were a bit skittish for a while there about the low registration numbers, but those Toronto folk I just mentioned set us straight in short order. They’d been to the BookCamps in Toronto, and big as they were, they liked our size and energy just fine, thank you very much.

It’s all about people, and it’s all about having something to say and having the space to say it. One of our Toronto visitors, Meghan MacDonald, who’s a project coordinator at BookNet Canada, posted a blog entry about BookCamp Halifax, in which she stresses how important a sense of community is at events like these and how much more inclined people will be to participate in the discussions if they feel comfortable.

I love technology. I love gadgets. I love the internet. But I also love communication. And interaction. And you need fellow human beings for those last two. It’s all about the humans. It’s really the only reason any of us do anything. You can’t even make money if there’s no one around to either give you a job or pay you for your product or service.

Some people get so focussed on the thing they’re doing or the object they’re creating that they lose sight of the fact that there’s very little value in it if they’re the only one who can appreciate it. We write books because we want people to read them; we make movies because we want people to watch them. We make art not for art’s sake but because we want to take a piece of ourselves and put it out there on display, for better or for worse, and hope against hope that somebody out there will get it.

It’s called sharing the human experience.

There’s a certain energy about holding a book in your hand. It’s a made object, put together in the grand tradition of the good people who first discovered how to make a writing surface out of wet reeds. It’s tangible, it’s portable, and it contains the energy of the author.

I’m not dissing e-books, not by a stretch, but I don’t think anything will ever replace the feel of a paper book in your hand, nor the satisfaction that comes with that little thud you hear when you shut the back cover after reading the last page.

BookCamp Halifax was a wonderful experience, and I look forward to putting it all together again next year. I get the feeling that my co-organizers—Kimberly Walsh, Ryan Jones, and Robbie MacGregor—feel pretty much the same way.

Don’t forget to leave a light on… so you can read that book in your hand.

On Saturday, June 5th, 2010, readers, writers, editors, publishers, educators, and technology-type-folks will gather at the Sobey School of Business at Saint Mary’s University for a full day of listening, talking, discussing, suggesting, thinking, mulling, considering, and brainstorming.

It will be awesome.

Yes, that word is overused. Someone just mentioned that to me today, as a matter fact. Still, the fact remains.

The way information is delivered to us has been changing rapidly over the last few years. Longer than that, actually, but we’ve really started to see a shift in the publishing paradigm over the last decade or so: blogs, e-books, magazine and newspaper websites, RSS feeds, smartphone web browsing, and netbooks have all made their presence known and have made information both easier to grab and easier to publish.

Everyone can be their own publisher now, it seems.

So what about the venerable book? Is it doomed? Will it have to change? Is there room for the dear old thing in this whiz-bang, breakneck world in which we live?

Come to BookCamp Halifax, and let’s talk about it.

As one of the organizers of BookCamp Halifax 2010, I’m particularly excitied about the event, as I’m seeing it come together first-hand, watching the registrations come in and the session leaders step forward. My co-organizers—Kimberly Walsh (East Coast by Choice), Ryan Jones (Clear Mirror Editorial), and Robbie MacGregor (Invisible Publishing)—are all pumped to meet everyone and hear what discussions emerge from this confluence of content creators and consumers.

If you haven’t registered yet, go to our Eventbrite registration page and grab a free ticket now. Seating is limited, so don’t delay. Call now. Operators are standing by. Offer void where prohibited. Some restrictions may apply. This is not a solicitation where prohibited by law.

Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.

Okay, sorry. Back to the topic at hand.

Just ignore that last bit. There aren’t any restrictions, really, but we’ve had to limit attendance to three-hundred. So, yeah, the “don’t delay” part is right.

Just to give you an example of the types of things that BookCamp Halifax has in store, Kimberly and I will be leading a discussion about on-line writing communities. There are a ton of them out there, and as my readers know, I’m an active member of Protagonize.com, which is a collaborative writing site for creative writers. I’m looking forward to talking about this whole concept and how it affects writing and publishing.

This should be a fun, interesting, informative, and social day. We hope to see you there.

Okay, back to the planning.

Don’t forget to leave a light on.

(Here’s a clip of my friend Nick Bouton talking about his baby—one of my favorite websites—Protagonize.com at BookCamp Vancouver back in October 2009.)

This is no mean feat for me. It’s forever been a challenge, and I’m one of those people who always seems to have six zillion things bouncing around in my brain and never enough time to focus on any of them.

I’ve often thought there was something wrong with me, because I never seemed to be able to focus on any one thing. My interests are many and varied, and I’ve just never managed to narrow things down to my One True Passion™. Writing has always been there, but so have music, videography, web design/programming, and a whole host of other stuff, mostly creative, partly creative with a technical bent. Again with the “both sides of the brain” thing.

Annoying.

But lately, I’ve been rethinking things. I’ve begun to wonder why on earth I can’t do all the things I want to do. Why can’t I have my cake and eat it too?

It’s just a matter of getting organized.

If I can break projects down into bite-sized chunks, manage my time better, and keep track of what I’m doing, there’s no reason I can’t have half-a-dozen projects on the go at once. It still sounds kind of daunting, and maybe I’ve got a streak of the crazy bouncing around with the creative juices, but if I really stop and think about it, it seems doable.

But back to this “organized” notion. It’s always been a bit of a sticky point for me. I can’t keep track of things in my head, and the software tools I’ve tried have either lacked in some important area or simply imposed too many restrictions.

I need a to-do list, but it has to be more than a to-do list. Sort of a to-do list with a mind-map attached and a bunch of links to documents and websites.

Yeah. I hear you. Where on earth am I going to find something like that?

Well, it’s funny. The tool I’ve been looking for has been right here, right under my nose, for months now.

It’s called Google Wave.

And no, it’s not exactly like what I described above, but it’s pretty damn close. (Actually, now that I think about it, it does have a mind-map extension. Haven’t tried it yet, but it sounds cool.) I already check it every day, just to see if any of the waves I follow have new items in them, and even though my project list is not a collaboration, the structure of a wave is pretty close to what I need.

In case you haven’t tried Google Wave yet, I’ll give you a brief description of how one of these puppies is set up. Inside a wave, you create things called “blips”. A blip is really just a block of text with a green rounded rectangle around it. A top-level blip is called a “wavelet”, and wavelets can have blips added to them, either as replies tacked on the end and indented, or as in-line replies embedded inside them.

Blips can also have links, images, YouTube videos, and all manner of other strange and exotic beasties embedded inside them. And the text inside a blip can be formatted in a myriad of ways. This makes the tool incredibly versatile.

The thing that got me hooked on trying this approach was the fact that, if you add your replies to a blip by embedding them in-line, you get the option of collapsing the in-line replies by clicking on a little minus-sign inside a tiny speech balloon icon. This allows me to use Google Wave as a sort of rudimentary outliner, collapsing the “to-do list” inside each project so that I don’t have to scroll through the entire wave to find what I’m looking for (although there is a search feature, if push comes to shove).

So this is what I’ve been doing the last couple of days. I’ve created a wavelet for each project I want to work on, and then added the “to-do list” for each project as in-line blips inside the wavelets. And because each blip is like a tiny word processing document unto itself, the whole thing lends itself to being really free-form and unstructured, even though there is an underlying structure (a method to my madness, as it were).

This appeals to me enormously. I love writing, and I love expressing myself, so even though I’m the only one who will see this wave (at least for now), I will still let myself be verbose, humorous, clever, or silly, even though I’m only laying out a series of tasks that I intend to perform. Traditional to-do lists are as dry as dust, and I find them deathly dull and boring. They don’t inspire me in the least. I need a bit of elbow room, space to expand and expound, if the mood so strikes me.

Google Wave allows me to play.

And playing is what unleashes my creative mind.

Now that I’ve got the initial structure nearly complete, I’ve started adding some depth to the wave. I’ve put in some links to websites I need to reference for particular projects, I’ve inserted a link to a Google Documents file that contains further notes related to one project in particular, and I’ve even inserted a Google Map (thanks to the maps extension) to plot the locations where I want to shoot footage for that documentary I’ve been saying I’m going make for several years now.

You already knew I loved Google’s stuff. I wrote about it at length in a previous post. Now I’m going to put my money where my mouth is and make some really good use of some of the stuff I’ve just dabbled with so far. If I use Google Docs to store important information related to each project, then I can access my entire project “library” from any computer, anywhere I happen to be.

And that’s just plain cool.

(But I still use WriteMonkey to type the first draft of my blog posts. Because it’s cool, too.)

Organization, here I come!

Don’t forget to leave the light on.

(This clip has nothing to do with getting organized, but it’s one of the best uses of Google Wave I’ve ever seen. Not for the faint of heart, to be sure, but full of the awesome.)

I’m about to wade hip-deep into frothy pond of self-indulgence. It’s something I’m good at, as you’ve no doubt discovered if you’ve read this blog at all, so I’m just giving you fair warning.

You may want to avert your eyes.

I’m not the most careful person in the world when it comes to backing up files. My backups are infrequent and tend to consist of sending myself an email with an important document attached to it. I love GMail for many reasons, this being but one of them.

(Side Note #1: Using GMail in this manner is quite inefficient. I need to graduate to using Google Docs more. The cloud awaits.)

Needless to say, I counted my lucky stars the other day when I suddenly had the urge to find an old file from a few years back. It was actually still there, on a backup DVD set that I burned back in 2004. I don’t know when I deleted it from my system, but it was there on the backup, and I rejoiced. Well, I smiled, anyway.

(Side Note #2: The file in question is a description of a fantasy/gaming world I was developing back then. I’m going to ressurrect it as a world-building project and invite others to join in. But that’s a blog entry for another time.)

"Sherman, set the Wayback Machine for Halifax, Nova Scotia, 2004."

Examining the backup index, I noticed a few other files that I thought I’d restore while I was at it. Being the sentimental type, I always enjoy a good trip down memory lane (see my earlier entry on a similar topic), so this afforded me a tremendous opportunity to suspend my current activity and lapse into a comatose-like state of reverie about the wonderfulness of things and times past.

Ahem. Well. Yes. I mean, no. The time period in question was not really all that stellar, but I did have a pretty nifty web site at the time. And I found said website in its entirety on said backup. So I got to thinkin’…

Okay, I’ll get back to that in a minute. But first, a bit of history. Back in 2003 and 2004, I had an account with a handy little service called NetIdentity. They basically had a whole whack of surnames registered as domain names, and for a quite reasonable price, you could have your little parcel of one of those domain names. For example, they owned “rountree.com”, and I was able to secure “eric.rountree.com”. I also had a corresponding email address, which was the same as my domain name, except with an “@” sign instead of the first dot.

(Side Note #3: Since those days, NetIdentity has been acquired by Tucows, which also now owns ItsYourDomain, DomainDirect, and Hover. The webmail interface has changed numerous times, and service interruptions due to hardware/software migration have been massive and headache-inducing. In my opinion, the service is now utter crap, and I’m glad I no longer have an account.)

At that time, I was using the Macromedia suite of tools for web design—Fireworks, Flash, and Dreamweaver. Again with the acquisitions: Adobe acquired Macromedia in 2005 and now publishes all three products, which have been updated numerous times in the intervening years. Since I’m in reminiscence mode, however, I will comment upon how nice those products were to use at the time. They integrated seamlessly, allowing me to create a fairly intricate roll-over side menu without a lot of HTML tweaking, JavaScript coding and Photoshop slicing. It was downright enjoyable.

I’m sure it’s even better now, but Adobe stuff is really pricey.

Anyway, it was nice to revisit the old site, and despite the passing of the years, I still think it looks reasonably cool. But, of course, simply having the files on my computer was not enough for me. No, of course not. I had to go the extra distance, grab the electrodes from the other side of the room, and bring the creature back to life again.

Yes, I’ve uploaded the whole shebang to a subdirectory on this here website. If you’re even remotely curious, you can check it out. It’s basically the same as it was back in the day, but with some obsolete links removed and the media files embedded differently. There’s flash, there’s video, there’s MIDI, there’s rollover menus. Something for everyone. Fun for the whole family.

Like I said, a big ole pool of self-indulgence.

But this little exercise served to remind me that I am fully capable of using both sides of my brain. I’m creative, I’m technical, and I can make stuff.

Makes me want to pursue all manner of creative/technical projects. Hmmm… Maybe I will…

“It’s alive! It’s… alive!!”

Don’t forget to leave the light on.

(Let’s keep the Wayback Machine pointed at 2004 and have a listen to “This Love” by Maroon 5, which reached Number 5 on the Billboard charts on April 24th of that year. Yeah, I know. This is real stretch. The song has absolutely no relation to this blog post except for the year. But it’s a great song. The video is admittedly really cheesy, and the lyrics are so explicit that they really didn’t need the naked bodies on the screen, but hell, the beat is infectious.)

It’s been a month since my last entry on this blog. On February 28th (which was also a Sunday, because that’s just the way February rolls), I wrote a blurt about the Olympics and how my attitude towards them changed dramatically over the course of their seventeen-day run.

Seems like a long time ago, now.

Since then, I’ve started a couple of new posts—one on the remastered CD of the Beatles’ Help! album and one on the closing ceremonies of the Winter Olympics—but both of them seemed a bit flat upon rereading. I just wasn’t feeling it.

So, what have I been doing, then?

Well, sometimes it feels like I’ve been sitting around with my thumbs in a strange place, and sometimes it feels like I’ve been exploring the mysteries of life, the universe, and everything (but no, I haven’t been reading Douglas Adams).

Being in the place where I am right now is kind of a paradoxical thing. On the one hand, there are financial pressures and the constant need to increase my income so that ends can meet and the day-to-day can carry on normally. On the other hand, there’s a tremendous opportunity to really figure some things out if I just don’t give in to the tempation to rush things along.

I wish my mind were this crystal clear.

I’m in the process of reconstructing myself after a serious piece of demolition. 2009 was The Year of the Fuse, and the last third of it was The Detonation.

Shit went down.

It wasn’t all bad. I started this blog, I wrote a NaNoWriMo novel, and there were day trips and mini-holidays and movies and friends and family and all the rest of the normal good stuff that happens in the run of a year.

But in the end, something had to give. And, unfortunately, that something was me.

Or maybe fortunately, because now I’m in a place where I can step back, survey the wreckage, and start putting Humpty back together again.

I’ve begun to examine what’s really important to me and to consider what it is that I really want to do with my life. I turn fifty this summer, so I guess this might be a good time to really get a handle on things.

I know that writing will always play large part in my life. It’s always been there, I’ve always gone back to it, and I’ve always striven to express myself creatively and to make myself understood.

You have no idea how important it is for me to be understood.

Okay, so I know I have the skills. I’m the grammar guy, the punctuation pundit, the spelling shark. I know how to string a sentence together, and I know how to say things in an interesting way.

Fine. Great. Fantastic. But what the hell am I going to do with that?

Well, I’m going to get my novel published, for one thing. That much I do know. Because, even in third-draft stage, I think it reads pretty well and has some great stuff in it.

But beyond that… What am I going to do in the long run with my writing skills? How am I going to use them?

This is where the reconstruction of my beleaguered self comes into play. I have the chance to be my real self and chuck off all the shackles of expectations and conventions that have been placed upon me over the years. I have the chance to come out of the basement and step into the light of day.

I don’t want to screw this up, people.

So… mixed in with the writing and the musing and the day-to-day living, there’s been the occasional consideration of a little thing called “meaning”.

Basically, I’m starting to wonder why I’m here, what I’m supposed to be doing, and what the point of it all is.

This has nothing to do with religion. I’m going to brace myself here, screw my courage to the sticking place, and finally own up, right on this blog, to the fact that I don’t believe in God, and that I think that organized religion is one of the most dangerous and destructive forces on the face of the planet. It has no place in my life, and if that offends you, then there’s really not a whole lot I can do about.

I’m not going to go on and on about it. I’m not one of those atheists who feels they have to argue about everything and stick it in your face. I’m not like that. I just don’t believe in God.

It doesn’t make me a bad person.

I am, however, a thoughtful and contemplative person, an inquisitive and curious person. I want to know where things come from, why things are the way they are, and what else is out there. I look at the world as a wondrous place, filled with marvels beyond imagining. Nature is amazing, the universe is amazing, and the human mind is amazing.

So why am I here?

Questions like this have brought me back to my Philosophy for Dummies book. I bought it a couple of years ago and read a bit of it, but the time has come for me to delve deeper and see what all those great minds of the last few centuries have been going on about all this time. I want to challenge myself and explore what it is to be human, what it is to have self-awareness, and what it means to be able to think about such things at all.

It’s a starting place, anyway.

I feel that this blog is about to transform, just as I am. I’m starting to figure out my place in the world and what I can do in it. I suppose, like most of us, I want to leave my mark here on this planet, but I think it might be better if I thought in terms of how I can improve things while I’m here.

And at the heart of it, when you get right down to brass tacks, there’s this little concept that has always been important to me, and which is now emerging as a defining force in my life.

It’s a little thing called “respect”, and there’s not enough of it in the world right now.

And I’ll be writing a lot more about that in the days and weeks to come.

Stay tuned.

And don’t forget to leave the light on.

(Okay, just to bring a little levity back to the proceedings, here’s some Deep Thought for you. This still makes me laugh.)

I embarked on this blogging thing back in August with guns blazing and pedal squashed to the metal. I wrote a blog entry every day for seven weeks without so much as a hiccup (a couple of cheats, but no hiccups). I was on a roll, baby. I was smokin'. I was in the zone. I was—

You get the idea.

And I was professional about the whole thing. I wrote movie reviews, music reviews, book reviews, superhero reviews, and the occasional thoughtful or humorous blurt.

Life was good.

Or was it?

Looking back on it now, I see that I had all my ducks in a row (well, most of them, anyway) and a plan of attack. I was ready. I was willing. I was able.

But I wasn't honest.

What a kicker that is.

I wrote a post about honesty in writing a while back, in which I went on at some length about putting your whole self into a project and making it real. What I didn't realize at the time was that I was not practicing what I was preaching.

Cue the dark organ music.

Remember the times when I said I wasn't going to get personal on this blog? Yeah, there were few of them, and it finally got to the point where I realized that I protested too much. I began to reconsider the whole notion.

And then, the inevitable happened: I started missing days of blogging, and then I started missing whole weeks. I knew that it would happen; I just didn't know when.

I remember also stating early on in the life of this blog that I wasn't going to discuss my depression here. I was going to save that for my personal blog. Well, funny thing is, I haven't been doing anything with my personal blog since I started this "professional" one. I think I've written one entry on the personal blog in the entire time this "professional" blog has been in existence. And it wasn't a particularly noteworthy or memorable entry, either.

So, here I am, on my so-called "professional" blog, mentioning my depression.

Because it's the reason for my lapse in blogging. I had a sort of meltdown back in late September, and things started going a wee bit Pete Tong. I managed to rescue the last bit of September, but October was a write-off (literally) with a total of four blog posts.

Then came November, in which our hero began to feel a bit better about things but was kidnapped by the NaNoWriMo Monster and kept chained to the wall of a cavern with only breadcrumbs and bats for company. And a computer, of course; otherwise the NaNoWriMo Monster would not have gotten its daily offering of words.

Let me be perfectly clear on one point: I am extremely pleased with myself for the accomplishment of finishing the first draft of a 66,000 word novel in twenty-eight days. I do not in any way diminish this feat. I set out to do it, I did it, and I'm bloody well going to crow about it.

But I still feel bad for ignoring the blogging.

This is a transitional time for me. I'm reevaluating my priorities, my beliefs, my goals, and my behaviors. I'm taking a good, hard look at myself and starting the long and arduous process of figuring out what I really want from life. Not easy stuff, but necessary. I need clarity, and I need purpose.

Neither comes without a bit of sleeves-rolled-up work.

I love this blog. I've put a lot of myself into it, and I'm starting to mold it into something that I think I can be proud of.

What I have to do, however, is stop writing stuff just for the sake of writing. For the sake of filling a screen with words. I have to write for me, first and foremost. I have to start putting more of myself into what I write and not worrying whether or not people will read it.

Because if I'm true to myself, I'll write the things that are important to me, and if there are people out there who connect with those things, then I'll have my audience.

But the honesty comes first.

So, enough namby-pamby shuffling of the feet. I have opinions, and I'm bloody well going to share them. Not everyone is going to agree with me, and that's as it should be. If we all agreed about everything, this would be a pretty boring world to live in.

I've been thinking about drawing up a "Faltarego Manifesto", and the more I think about it, the better the idea sounds. I think it's time to shit or get off the pot. Make my stand. Make my principles known to the great "out there."

Let there be honesty and self in the writing on this blog henceforth.

Sounds like a plan.