Questions are the New Answers

Today marks the return of Lucas. This is his fourth visit, third credited. Please enjoy.

questions not answersHi again, it’s Lucas. I’m just sitting here in class,
considering a conclusion that I didn’t want to pass.

I was diddling some doodles, on my paper with my pen
when I had a little insight that was altogether zen.

The thought was kind of large, at least larger than me,
but it shined a bit of light on the way that things should be.

You may think it silly, but I have some concern
about the way we get our answers and the way that we all learn.

The way our teachers teach us, well it’s based on an old system.
Now that times are changing, I think we should be changing with them.

The methods they use now reward all those who memorize the most.
Learn by rote, take the test and then they’re fit to boast.

But facts and figures fall to fruitless when you’re looking at your feet,
and find that they’re now bopping to a wholly different beat.

It blew in like a cyclone, this redefining shift.
We didn’t catch it quickly. Now we’ve found ourselves adrift.

You see, a system built on answers simply can not grow.
We need creative queries to bring us brand new things to know.

With the Internet inside our palm, answers lose their worth.
The techniques we use to learn deserve to have a brand new birth.

Questions have more value because they teach us how to think;
our thoughts and are behavior share an undisputed link.

Should we absorb the moment of that first shot in a war
or could there be some bigger issues that we could explore?

If we believe that answers shouldn’t come first anymore,
then we’ll develop questions that have not been thought before.

Let’s ponder this example: let’s bow our heads and think.
Take your time, take a breath. Okay, now go ahead and blink.

Let’s flip back in time a while to when Human Beings were new.
Before we had societies, in the dawn of our debut.

We were not committing answers then, with just one thing to solve.
The question we were asking was, “now, how can we evolve?”

First we worked with fire. Then we worked the land.
We had so many questions, and so much to understand.

We created language, art, religion and set Governments in place,
as the entire population spread across our planet’s face.

Now we have computers and answers oozing cheap.
It’s time for the entire race to take another giant leap.

Let’s ask ourselves about our future and discover what is next.
If we start out asking simply, we can soon grow more complex.

The next time that your teacher asks the answer to a question,
raise your hand and say “Excuse me, but I’ve got a suggestion.”

Say, “Answers were for yesterday. I’m looking toward our fate;
a future filled with such potential, I can hardly wait.

Perhaps tomorrow we’ll have a world where there isn’t any war;
no disease, hungry people, or violence any more.

If we start knowing what to ask, our future has no ceiling.
I know that I am just a kid, but listen to my feeling.”

You can be just like my teacher when I told her the word.
She said, “Lucas Bright, that is the smartest thing I’ve ever heard!”

Sean Platt is a dad, ghostwriter, and occassional potty training expert.

Setting the Stage

“Are we not like two volumes of one book?”

~Marceline Desbordes

Hello, everyone.

Happy Monday.

This blog was born in a blended broth of belief and bravado.  I told no one of the undertaking, save Daisy and a family friend.

Mom, Dad, and KittyTown were gathered in the hug on my second Monday.

I expected to be lonely, at least for a while, but I wasn’t, ever or at all.

I knew I would speak, and hoped I’d be heard, but never presumed to be passing words like pastries across a table, toward every other page in the atlas.

Blogging has been anything but hermetic.  For that I’m thankful.  Maintaining a blog has been like building a talk show (albeit much smaller), where every audience member is afforded equal and instant voice .

There are no phone lines to light, or commercial breaks to pause thought in the white space of the blogosphere.

A blog is not a diary.  It’s an alliance between reader and author.

In the fullest relationships, both parties feel as though they’re standing at the best end of the bond.  Yet no relationship can achieve such sure footing without clear, consistent, and honest communication.

So goes this week’s discussion.

I’m penning this post in Pages, Apple’s answer to MS Word; the icon, a svelte fountain pen, inclined against a bottle of ink.  I’ve always used WordPress to write for Writer Dad, never Pages.  Pages is the suite where I edit my novel, or write letters to my wife and children.  It’s where I scribed our farewell, and where I’m writing the words you’re reading right now.

What rendered these words significant?

I’m laying foundation we’ll be walking a while.  Of course, this blog is enslaved to evolution no different than anything else, but I believe  it is time to place the planks of the floor where we will dance.

Penning our pre-school’s adieu was liberating.  I felt like it kicked down all the doors inside an empty mansion.  I enjoyed being Writer Dad, a lot, but it’s nothing compared to being Sean Platt, Writer Dad.

Now I can sing with all of my voice.

I’m not afraid to try new things (except sushi), and am certainly willing to pioneer, especially while the frontier’s fresh.

The internet is gridlocked in repetition.  I’d like to ponder a model that, to my knowledge, doesn’t exist.

Over the next few days, I’ll discuss why Writer Dad doesn’t display paid ads, and why it likely never will.  We’ll further discuss the new Renaissance, and writing for SEO and keywords.  I’ll elaborate on WeeBooks, ask some questions, and hopefully make you smile.

I’ll smear my ideas across the week.  On Friday, a surprise.

My favorite so far.

More than ever, I’d love to swap thoughts as the cement dries around our blog’s identity.  Please, for the next five days, ask questions, link, and stumble as much as you’re willing and able.

Thanks.

Writer Dad

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The Great Equalizer

This is perhaps the most beautiful time in human history; it is really pregnant with all kinds of creative possibilities made possible by science and technology which now constitute the slave of man – if man is not enslaved by it. 

~Jonas Salk, Polio slayer

Good morning, and happy Monday.  It’s an exciting week, good stuff on tap.

Today I’d like to talk about the new great equalizer by taking two previous posts from other writers and cook them up into a delicious Writer Dad dish.  First off, Hunter Nuttall previously discussed the varying values of an Ebook. Second, a few weeks ago, Men With Pens were discussing Real Authors.  Harry said, “If you write, you’re a writer. If you have a blog, consider yourself published. If you create an ebook, you’re an author.”

Harry, you’re dead on.

Though I know it seems like we’re already drowning in a sea of Ebooks, we are really only at the foot of the mountain, eyes turned skyward, searching for a peak that, at present, is only a suggestion.  And as the world keeps shifting, traditional publishers will find themselves on the fault lines of the new great equalizer.  

In the middle (dark) ages, information was controlled exclusively by the church.  People learned only what they were allowed, and things were generally pretty grim.  In 1439, Johanas Gutenberg invented movable type.  By doing so, he diverted the traffic of information between the overlords and the masses creating the first great equalizer of the written word.

Tomorrow’s history isn’t much different.

The internet took the ordained from our living room, and dropped them in the ring with intelligent men and woman around the globe who had nothing but opinions and an internet connection.  The same will happen to publishing.  

Here’s the math:

I’ve got a pile of children’s stories sitting on an agent’s desk.  They are now on their sixth week of an eight week stay, where at the end, I may not get so much as an email saying, “Thank you, but no.”  I do not take this personally. They accept five new clients a year, and they get three-hundred submissions a week.  

Best case scenario?  

We sign, and the ball starts rolling.  I’ll get partnered with an illustrator and the book will go into production.  A year later, I’ll see it sitting on an end cap at Barnes and Noble with a jacket price of $16.95.  10% of it mine.  

Now before I move to the future, allow me to clearly state.  I love traditional books and always will. They will be here forever and I will buy them as long as they are. They are beautiful and romantic and absolutely perfect in design.  Even if I’m rejected by the agency’s deafening silence, I have nothing against them or the industry in which their gears must turn.  

But I can smell milk when it’s starting to sour.

Okay, back to the future.  

We have the internet – the great equalizer, standing stolid against an industry of saber rattling, in a war that’s already over.  It makes me think of the battle between Blue-Ray and HD DVD.  

Either victor is the last of his tribe.

My kids aren’t going to be carrying around hard media; their world will be digital.  They’ll have versions of their favorite books in whatever media boxes we’re all carrying around in another five years (remember, technology years to regular years = dog years to human).  

When I was a kid, my sister plowed through every Babysitter’s Club book there was.  She loved them.  By the time Mia is reading her version of the same, she’ll be carrying her collection around in a digital format, like charms on a bracelet, even if she has a dog eared copy sitting on the shelf at home.  It’s difficult to imagine that within a few years of our immediate future, we won’t be seeing digital copies included with every hard purchase.  

This goes for all media.  It’s simple to do and makes perfect sense.  Fox, wisely, already understands Internet as equalizer and does this with many of their films.

If I want to write what I want to write, then I’ve entered the perfect situation at the perfect time.  

I’m sure that at some point, I’ll have books that go the traditional route.  I am simply too big a romantic to discard the notion of finding my work pulled lovingly from a shelf, purchased, then traded from one lover to the other, or handed from a mother to her son.  

My Grandma used to say, and she was right, “There’s a place for everything, with everything in it’s place.”  

When I leave my day job behind, I want to write. Chapter books and picture books; children’s adventures and long winded novels; short essays and long works of engaging non-fiction.  Some of these books will lend themselves very well to downloads, some of them would serve better as POD books, sold through a company like Lulu or Amazon.  

Yes, the price for the hard product is more if I do it myself, but there is no risk because there is no inventory, and I’m catering to my own audience that I can speak to everyday.  To me, that is a remarkable situation that has not been possible before.  How often do you think great writers have simply fallen off because they’re either trying to duplicate a prior success or hitch a ride on the perfect ebb of the current market flow.  

With the Internet as our new great equalizer, a writer can build a small but loyal audience who will be happy to see what he or she might pull from their brain next.  

I love this model: deliver a new project to a loyal fan base frequently, and keep the creativity dancing.

As far as value, I’ll try to find a price point that balances how involved a project was from conception to delivery, with value to the reader.  Some projects might be worth $2, others $20.  Right now, I’m toying with the idea of charging $100,000 for my novel, once it’s finally finished.  I see it as win-win.  I’ll only need to sell a single copy, and I will not be to open to ridicule.  

I’m sure someone could afford it, and the guy who does will declare it as genius, just to keep himself from looking like an idiot.

Anyway, this coming Friday, August 15, I’ll be announcing the title and release date of my first project.  I’m pretty excited.

Writer Dad

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A New Renaissance

The New Renaissance

We have indeed found ourselves amidst the first undulating waves of a brand new Renaissance.  Last Monday was the first time I’d made any effort to get my words beneath the eyes of anyone other than Daisy.  Good communication cannot exist in isolation; it was time to clear my throat and step to the podium.  

Now, I imagine that to do this blogging thing well, you have to be at least the teeniest bit geeky.  

Check, no problem there.  

Throughout the week, I spent a few moments here and there, studying my feedburner numbers, more out of curiosity than anything.  I’m still trying to figure out how all this works, and I know I won’t improve if I don’t absorb as much information as well as I can.  So, I started looking through the stats.  On Monday and Tuesday, I saw pretty much exactly what I expected to see – a bunch of random looking hits from across the United States.  By Wednesday, Canada was saying, “Eh.”  By Thursday, the United Kingdom was saying, “Cheers.”  

By Friday, I was looking at evidence of a new Renaissance.

Feeds from The United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom, along with Australia, Russia, and (I kid you not) Uraguay.  

Wow.  A new Renaissance indeed.

I don’t want to kick a dead horse in his teeth, but the internet is a spectacular space.  In fact, the web runs right by amazing while he’s off staring into the ether, then rockets around the world in an internet instant, so he can sneak up behind amazing and slap him on the back of his head.  Saying that, I don’t think most of us even realize how primitive it still really is.  

Not since Guttenberg introduced movable type has there been such a quantum leap in communication.  Now, anyone can have a voice.  Someday, probably, everyone will.  When Andy Warhol said that in the future we’d all have our fifteen minutes, he couldn’t have had any idea how right he’d turn out to be or that a new renaissance was waiting right around the corner.

With so many views screaming for attention, one might argue that the odds of having a single voice make the impact of Martin Luther with his 95 Theses, or Thomas Paine with Common Sense are slim.  

I strongly disagree.  

History works in cycles.  Always has.  Truth finds its voice, and then power starts to shift.  Right now, power is shifting.  If someone has something new to say, relevant to moving us all forward, and they articulate it with enough truth and clarity, people will listen.  

Art and ideas have never been exchanged so efficiently.  We’ve never held so much potential.

Our world is at the brink of a brand new Renaissance, but it’s only ours if we demand it.

Writer Dad

Swallowing Without Chewing

 

Yesterday, Vered from Momgrind made a comment that got me thinking.  Of course, that’s not hard.  The wind whistling past my ear will detour my thoughts, as long as I think it might be saying something different than it did the day before.  

But if something’s bouncing about my brain without much intention of leaving, than I have to believe that there’s something there worth considering, and Vered’s comment was rattling around for a while.

She mentioned that it’s pretty natural to scan articles while reading online.  

She couldn’t be more right.  

When I first started doing a lot of online reading, I allowed my eyes to float over every set of syllables.  Now, I swallow them as quickly as I can, as if they were the last hot waffles coming from a kitchen that’s closing in five minutes. 

I can’t imagine reading a book this way. 

Can you? 

Really? 

For me, it’s day and night.  A book isn’t something to race through, it’s a first date; slow and thoughtful and considerate.  The internet is like coming home and decompressing at the end of the day, after you’ve been married for twenty years:

Just the facts, Ma’am, just the facts. 

When I crack a spine, I want to be lost in a story, but when I lift the lid of my laptop, I want INFORMATION, and I digest it like a hungry alligator, chewing without swallowing, bouncing from one website to the next, in some insane race with myself to see how much I can consume, and how quickly I can do it.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not condemning the behavior.  I love to learn this way, and a large part of why I go online thirty-seven thousand times each day is so that I can go to sleep slightly smarter than I was when I woke up, but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t sometimes get a chill wondering about the information overload my children will be facing in another ten years.

Look how much the internet’s evolved in just a few short years.  This September, a good percentage of kids going off to college have no memory of life before the ubiquity of the internet.  What’s it going to be like for the pre-school set now?

My hopes are sky high.

For now, I choose to believe that some major sea change is right around the corner.  Our educational institutions are going to have to wake up and realize that they’re teaching in a way that was out of date back when I was sitting behind the desk making up funny limericks about my teacher.  

The internet’s still in diapers, and together, we share the task of raising it.  But as we shape that alternate landscape, so we shape ourselves.  My children see me on the computer a lot, but I make sure that at least once a day, they also see me with an old fashioned book in my hands and a quiet smile on my face.  

The internet is amazing, but we must never forget what got us here.

Writer Dad

Check out the updated post on reading online.  See if you can spot the changes.