Bernie Madoff, our greatest writer of fiction?

Bernard Madoff, whose $65 billion investment empire has been described as "fiction" may be one of the greatest literary geniuses of the Twentieth Century.

Eclipsing Scheherazade with her promises of more to come, Maydoff convinced hundreds, if not thousands, to keep their assets with him year after year and to return for each quarter's unbelievable fiscal reports that were complete fantasy. The sustained financial world he created must dwarf (no pun) even the worlds that contain Mordor or Hogwarts.

Investors suspended disbelief for nearly two decades. How many literary series can boast that following? With an ending that is still being written, ...or ghost-written.

Google makes me a paid author.

I've only been paid money once for something I wrote. The Miami Herald (newspaper) gave me $50 for about a dozen words sent in for a contest. And even then, AND EVEN THEN, I used a fake name. So when I got my check in the mail made out to "Elmo Lincoln," I had to go back to the Herald building and ask them to make out a new check in my real name.

But thanks to Google's defeat in a class action lawsuit, Google now has the opportunity to digitize every book that's ever been, or ever will be published, for about $75 per title (more or less, I'm bad with math, even addition). Wait, did I say "defeat"? Without this class action case, each publisher or author could negotiate for more money.

My book (Oh, did you know I have a book? Here's a copy right here.), F-words, is priced at $1,000. Based on that, I could have asked Google for $200 to digitize my book. And they would likely have counter-offered $0, which I would have gratefully accepted.

But now we are all stuck with the settlement. Even you, if you ever publish a book in your life, will be bound to this same settlement.

But the good thing is, that I never expect to sell any copies of anything I write. Did you buy a copy of my book? No. Would you ever buy anything I put up for sale? Of course not; neither would I. Why do you think I'm getting rid of it? I didn't want it in the first place.

But Google will pay me for it. Regardless of what I write, Google will pay me to digitize it. Sight unseen. I just have to fill out this six-page form. And I have to find my way to Minneapolis, MN and get them to change the name on the check from the.effing.librarian to Elmo Lincoln.

We will miss you, Michael Crichton.

I'm not a big reader, apart from circling typos in every issue of Juggs magazine:
To the editor, really? two "G"s in Juggs? In Mother, Jugs & Speed, Raquel Welch was Jugs and she only earned one G, and she was Raquel freakin' Welch.

In fact, after my BA in English Lit, I didn't want to read anything, anymore, ever, and I didn't read any fiction for over a year. But it was Crichton who broke that streak with Jurassic Park. I had avoided reading it because everyone recommended it. Oh, it's so exciting, you will just plotz. You will love it.

But eventually I read it, and yes, I loved it.

But still, I'm not a big reader. So I watch movies. And Crichton contributed to some of my favorites: The Andromeda Strain, Westworld, Coma, Looker. He had a way of making science fiction fun AND educational. Even the movie version of Jurassic Park is fun despite its T-Rex ex machina ending which bothered me initially, but doesn't so much any more. I have each of those movies on DVD (except for Looker which I only have on VHS), so it'll be a marathon this weekend in his memory. And I really like The 13th Warrior for its humor and tons of action, so I'll add that one to the list.

Somewhere on my bookshelf is a copy of Crichton's computer book from the early 1980's, so I'll take a look at that tonight to remind myself of how far ahead of the curve his mind was, how he explained the complex while entertaining us. I don't know anyone (me included) who had any grasp of cloning before Jurassic Park, and when we finally do perfect humanoid robots, for many of us, it will be memories of Westworld that keep us suspicious or paranoid and sleeping with one eye open and focused on that cueball-headed bastard who never sleeps, who never stops, who hunts us forever.

An Open Letter to Everyone I Will Ever Piss Off.

It's difficult for me to make a joke without making it seem like an insult. Recently, I posted something on LISNews about, well, read it:

"Who else got "Colleen" drawn in their Unshelved book? at least, I think it's Colleen. it's sort of a cloud or lake landscape with the twin setting suns of Tatooine... no, wait, it's Colleen.
Did anyone else order Frequently Asked Questions to get the bonus drawing and autographs (it looks like a "G-something" and "B-something-with-a-dot")?
Just wondering if Bill varied what he drew and what the distribution might be and how rare each drawing is and how collectible and which mylar bag should I use and how much will it be worth in five years and does anyone ever read my blog?"

For those who don't read Unshelved, the authors are Gene Ambaum and Bill Barnes. And after I wrote that, I tweeted Bill the link to the question, and he replied:

Yes, that's Colleen. As a rule each book has a character and catchphrase that I scribble in it when signing. That way we don't have to think about it, which is good when we're signing hundreds and hundreds of books. For FAQ it was Colleen and the catchphrase was "Don't ask us!". But anyone who asked for something specific got it.
Some cartoonists offer "artist editions" of their books for an additional dollar amount, with real took-some-time drawings. I don't pretend that this is what we're giving you for being nice enough to preorder. But then we didn't charge you for it either :-)

I didn't mean sound ungrateful for the drawing and signature. But as a consumer, I feel I always have a right to criticize, even when the product is free. I'm sure if I ever get to Heaven, I'll complain, "You mean I obeyed three of those Commandments for this?"

You could argue that the drawing and signature wasn't free, since it was a bonus offered to induce a purchase. But still, Bill doesn't need to cramp up his drawing hand to sign a couple hundred books in order to get people to buy; he could have produced a limited edition postcard or mini-poster or bumper sticker.

When authors and artists offer these gifts (I also purchased a copy of Little Brother by Cory Doctorow through the mail for the signature and inscription and free shipping offer that Borderlands made), we should be polite and say "thanks" and not be assholes. Otherwise these authors will discontinue these practices, and we will have to wait in long lines at boring conventions just to get something signed.

So, thanks Bill. I will cherish my scribble. Until I sell it. Tomorrow.

Good. That's done. I don't need to be adding more names to my other blog.