Yesterday I was privileged to watch the new documentary film How to Start a Revolution. It’s an exploration of the ideas and real-world implementation of Gene Sharp’s thoughts on non-violent resistance contained in the book From Dictatorship to Democracy.

If that sounds dryly academic, it’s not. The film is fascinating and deeply moving—a wonderful antidote to the shallow, toxic reporting on world events that makes up so much of cable news.

Who is Gene Sharp? I confess I never heard of him before watching this film, but I’ll remember him now. He’s a quiet scholar who’s spent many years thinking and writing on effective, non-violent means to political reform.

If you have a chance to see How to Start a Revolution, please go. I think the DVD is due to be released before long.

I just want to say I love this stamp. Makes you want to send a snail-mail letter to Mayor Bloomberg, doesn’t it?

Also, twitter tells me it’s #buyabooktoday. Who gets to make this stuff up I don’t know, but here are some books that I’ve read and enjoyed in the past months: My Book Raves

It’s a stealth weapon. Its attacks are rare and random. It generally strikes once and is gone. It’s never seen.

Case History: I will feel a sudden, slight prick, generally under clothing, and discover a fresh “bug” bite, but with nothing there that could have caused the bite. The bite will swell into a hard, mildly itchy lump, and will often develop a red halo an inch and a half or more across. If that’s an infection, this little nasty has some very dirty jaws.

Additional Details: There is only one bite. Months, even years, separate repeat occurrences. Geography doesn’t seem to matter. The last time this happened was nine months ago in an air-conditioned hotel room in Palm Desert, California.

Occam’s Razor suggests the assailant is a naturally evolved arthropod—either insect or arachnid—but exactly what it is, I still have no idea.

It’s not a mosquito. I hardly react to those and they don’t get under clothes.

It’s probably not a bedbug or a flea, because they don’t bite just once and then disappear.

I’m guessing it’s a spider, probably a tiny, newly hatched one. I’d really like to know what it is though. I’d like to see it. So I can smash it.

Deep down, I’m not a very nice person.

The stars aligned, the Gods willed it, and suddenly the husband and I found ourselves with a Blue-ray capable Playstation, a young man who could show us how to use it, and a set of Battlestar Galactica Blue-ray DVDs in hand.

We both had vague memories of the nothing-to-brag-about 1970s version of BSG, but neither of us had seen any episodes from the “new” series. So we set out to watch the four (or is it 4.5?) seasons. We finished the series a few nights ago. I’m assuming just about everybody else out there has seen the series, but if not, BE WARNED: there are lots of spoilers after the jump!!

Here are the more memorable comments made as the series progressed:
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This announcement is via Gregory Frost and the Philadelphia Liars Club and is re-posted here to help spread the word. Up and coming writers should take special note of the manuscript critiques offered by professional editors.

Writers’ Bash: Benefit for Author L.A. Banks
Saturday, August 6
7:00pm – 11:30pm
Smokey Joe’s Bar
208 S. 40th Street (University City)
Philadelphia, PA

Join the Liars Club and tons of authors, editors and creative folk at Smokey Joe’s bar in University City on the University of Pennsylvania Campus at this Writers’ Bash, a networking party filled with fun, chances to win raffles and to bid on red-hot stuff like top literary agent critiques!

Cost: $20, $10 for students with college I.D.

Proceeds go toward the expenses of ill author and Liars Club member Leslie Esdaile Banks (L.A. Banks), who is battling a rare cancer.

*Can’t come but still want to donate to Leslie’s medical needs? Go to http://liarsclubphilly.com /?p=1958 and scroll to the donation button*

At the Writers’ Bash, enjoy music and munchies, discounted drinks ($2 beers and $3 wines), and for the adventurous, the bar will be selling a special drink called “The Vamp,” dedicated to Banks and her popular Vampire Huntress novels.

You can also participate in a 50/50, in inexpensive basket raffles, and in our impressive silent auction. This will definitely be one red-hot meetup.

SILENT AUCTION ITEMS THAT WILL BE UP FOR BID:
*for most current list, visit http://liarsclubphilly.com /?page_id=1947

2 premium tickets to Jersey Boys on Broadway, plus a backstage tour and poster signed by the cast.

Manuscript critiques by the following agents:
– Jennifer DeChiara of the Jennifer DeChiara Literary Agency: full ms. read, plus critique given by phone
– Rebecca Strauss, McIntosh and Otis Literary Agency: 45 page ms. critique
– Jenny Bent, The Bent Agency
– Celeste Fine, Folio
– Sara Crowe, Harvey Klinger

Manuscript critiques by the following editors:
– Rose Hilliard, Editor, St. Martin’s Press
– Jennifer Heddle, Senior Editor, Pocket Books
– Ginjer Buchanan, Editor in Chief, Ace/ROC

Signed books by the following authors:
– New York Times bestseller Charlaine Harris
– New York Times bestseller Heather Graham
– New York Times bestseller Sherrilyn Kenyon

Writer’s Conference Scholarships:
– Push to Publish Conference, offered by Philadelphia Stories, Rosemont College, October 15th

Self-publishing Services:
– Convert your manuscript to ebook for Kindle, Nook and Smashwords, and design your Print on Demand interior text, offered by 52 Novels ($650 value)
– Manuscript layout for the internal book for someone who wants to do Print on Demand through Createspace, offered by Cheryl Perez ($200 value)

…and much, much more. So spread the word, bring your friends, and join the Liars Club to hoist a cold one for Leslie. It’ll be a blast. Honest!

Update: L.A. Banks passed away on August 2, 2011. See the article in Locus Online.

Jack Webb, age 20, US Army Air Corp

1950s: the cowboy hat disappeared in later years

Fishing off Honolulu

1982

There’s been a widespread discussion on the web these past few weeks about women writing science fiction. Today is Father’s Day here in the USA, so I’d just like to say the person most responsible for getting me interested in science fiction was this man right here, my dad, Jack Webb.

These days I think most dads know they need to encourage sons and daughters both to believe in themselves, to try new stuff, to be smart, self-reliant, and to develop an adventurous spirit. Back in the sixties and seventies, when I was a kid, that was still fairly rare if you were a girl.

My dad though, was ahead of his time. Because he was always looking for the next adventure, I grew up variously on the back of a motorcycle, riding horses, getting ill on fishing boats, hiking, camping, and flying between the Hawaiian Islands in little two and four-seater airplanes. My dad was also always sharing his interest in science and gadgets, and would never bat an eye when I would proclaim that I was going to grow up to be a primatologist, or an aeronautical engineer, or go to the air force academy. Never once do I remember hearing, “Girls don’t do that sort of thing.”

He was also always reading, fiction and non-fiction both, but always lots of science fiction, and naturally I followed along.

So for better or worse I blame my dad for setting me on the path to writing science fiction. It starts at home, guys, as most of you young dads already know.

My dad read all my books. He was my biggest fan and quite convinced I was the best writer out there, as a loyal dad should be.

He passed away five years ago at the age of 82. He lived a very full life.

Comic books didn’t exist in my home when I was growing up in the sixties and seventies. I don’t remember if the exact reasoning was ever explained to me, but I definitely remember my mom’s sentiment that “smart kids” read books, not comic books–and wanting to be a smart kid, I don’t recall ever arguing about it. (We were free to read whatever sort of books we got our hands on. No one ever seemed to pay any attention to that.)

My own kids were allowed comic books, but they went in the direction of Star Wars and various manga.

As a result I grew up ignorant, and remain ignorant, of what seems to be the most common source of movie fodder these days: Marvel Comics.

For example, I just got back from seeing Thor. I had no idea Thor was a Marvel comic. I thought he was, you know, a Norse god. Right?

Reviewing a list of Marvel-based movies I can’t say I’m a fan. (Exception: I liked the first Men in Black & had no idea it was based on a comic). So anyway, I guess my Mom’s devious plan to get me to not read comics worked all-too-well.

A few days ago, motion drew my eye to the window. A bird was hopping around in the butterfly bush. Nothing unusual about that, but this particular bird made me do a double-take:

What was going on? Had I been transported to the Island of Dr. Moreau? Was someone in the neighborhood doing weird experiments on the local bird life? Please tell me that is not really the head of a black finch transplanted onto the body of a cardinal . . . .

A Google search soon informed me I wasn’t the only one who had seen such a sight and wondered about it. The bird in question is definitely a cardinal, but it’s a bald cardinal, with no feathers on its head.

Opinions on what causes cardinals to lose all their head feathers are mixed, but most seem to involve mites and seasonal molting. It is agreed the condition generally takes place after the breeding season, that it isn’t permanent, and that the feathers grow back.

I have to say though, that a cardinal with a head as bald as a vulture’s is a rather disturbing sight.

This is my personal observation on the nutrition/weight-loss wars. To be upfront, I’ve never had much of a problem with weight and I’ve always been fairly physically active, but over time I got to be maybe ten to twelve pounds heavier than I needed to be. No big deal, and I wasn’t emotionally invested in losing the weight, but when I started working out at the gym it seemed logical to think that I would lose some weight— and I did. Maybe three pounds. That was it. And I work out hard. I run the treadmill. I’m the one breathing hard over increasingly heavy weight. Didn’t matter. Two years passed, and I didn’t lose another pound. However, I was only working out two, or at most, three days a week, and continuing to eat as I had for years, which was sort of middle-of-the-road okay.

Then I picked up a terrific book called Younger Next Year by Chris Crowley and Henry S. Lodge, M.D., which can be summarized thus: “Exercise hard one hour a day, six days a week and don’t eat crap.” So together my husband and I cut down on the crap and started working out more, and lo, I dropped a couple more pounds.

Shortly thereafter we embarked on a deliberately low-fat diet, while continuing the exercise regimen, and after a few months I stepped on a scale and laughed, knowing the damn thing was broken. But a second scale concurred exactly with the first. Those twelve pounds I wasn’t worried about losing? They had just gone away.

I credit it to the diet.** Our focus is on low-fat and high fiber/whole grain, and for myself, I think the food is great. I don’t feel like I’m suffering or deprived, but I will concede it’s challenging to eat out and still stick to the rules. Also, meal prep can take longer, but not all that much longer.

It works for me. Just thought I’d share.

** When I say “diet” I mean “what I typically eat” and definitely not “going on a diet.”

Holy crap!

A few weeks ago I picked up a new CD by The Black Keys. I was rather amused to open it and see that the back of the CD was utterly black. I held it up to the light. I looked around the inner rim. Nope. No writing. No song titles. Nothing. Okay, well I guess this is novel, post-modern, whatever.

So I finally popped it into the iMac this morning, imported the songs into iTunes, and popped it out again. To my *shock* the back of the CD was now gray, with all the usual sorts of black writing on it. Oh cool! I thought. First-use reveals the writing!

But as I sit here the CD, warmed up a bit in the drive, is cooling off and the impenetrable black finish is returning, flowing in slowly from the outer perimeter. I’m entertained.

Maybe this is an old trick to you more worldly types. Then again, you more worldly types don’t buy CDs anymore, do you?

Titles can just be seen behind the black finish.