Alone in the dark with Absinthe

The power going out the other day put me in a rather rustic state of mind.  I grabbed a stack of bills and used them to blast my face with hot air as I lacked a proper fan, and then proceeded to be a wuss and cheat myself out of the true old school experience by using my laptop as a source of light and music, and my cell phone in a vain attempt to harass the power company.  

The first thing I noticed was that it was dark.  Really dark...  Candles ain't gonna do anything for you in this darkness.  After creating light by pressing the power button, the next revelation that was impossible to ignore was the heat.  I read the weather report that morning--which is rare for anyone to do in my part of the world as the expectation of heat is ever present.  The weather woman noted it was going to be, 'abnormally hot.'  For all I know that is a meteorological term but in practice is means that it was 75 degrees at 9:30 pm when the power went out.  Really Hot.  

How is it old people can say with such ease that the world was a better place xx years ago?  And they always do.  Find a old person.  Ask them.  Be prepared as they may prattle on this topic for hours, whether or not you are attentive doesn't matter.  The dark is temporary and altogether manageable but the heat makes people crazy...  I can't begin to imagine--nor do I want to--the wide host of other 'setbacks' that made things better back in the day.  

"So grandpa, did you actually enjoy walking in the snow to and from school, three miles, both ways, with the wind in your face at all times?  No?  Really?  Well, why don't you tell me of the glories of using an outhouse..."  

I'll grant them ten points and a badge of courage for putting up with the innovations of the time, but it's not like the people who live through this were part of an elite club: the whole planet was affected.  I equate the old people who like to talk about how much better things were back in the day to Europeans living in America who do nothing but bitch and moan about how much better things are back in Bulgaria: take the same person out of their present circumstance and put in in the time or place they want to be in.  Then lets see what they have to say.   

The ice machine may well be the single greatest innovation of all time.  When the AC goes out and it's 75 degrees and raising, Apocalypse or not, you're going to want a cold, tasty, beverage.  I can state with absolute consternation that the separate processes of crafting and creating liquor have been much improved from generation to generation.  I firmly believe the Saint George Distillery of Alamede, California to be one of the premier distilleries today.  That said, despite their best efforts, somethings are universally bad and no amount of time can help: haggis, venereal disease, kimchi, military dictators, absinthe.

It taste horrible… absinthe that is, well, haggis too I should think.  Not to mention that the color is rather disconcerting.  You'll want a cold drink to distract you from the fact that you're alone in the dark, sweating like a slave, but inexplicably not in Hell when your AC shuts down.  Make sure your stash has some better tasting hooch than this because romantic inclinations, nostalgia of that trip to Europe where you'd swear you got 'high' on absinthe (and no, you didn't) or whatever other novel ideas you have of 19th century literary people talking about how much better their work is than everyone else's won't help.  Room temperature, on ice, in the light, or all kinds of dark; this stuff is awful.  

It's a Savage World so beat your children!

I couldn't read this without my own little commentary. I've never been one to listen to Hannity, Savage and their ilk, because I do find the presentation of the their material offensive; I believe that is intentional on their part. While they often talk about news worthy topics, they aren't the only ones.

What I admire about Savage is the fact that he is standing by his words. It would be real easy to flip flop and apologize to appease the public or perhaps save his job if it goes that far. But if he did what would be the point? Imus got put through the ringer for saying something that I thought was pretty mild by today's standards and as a result did all the damage control he could. Where exactly do hypocritical shock-radio jocks fit into todays world?

I would lose respect for the New Yorker if they apologized for the Obama satire. The idea is so absurd to me that it makes my head hurt.

Something else Savage touched on that I've made mild allusions to as well, is with society's current trend of increasing the gray area that obscures 'normal' people, those who 'just ain't right' and 'everyone else.' I know nothing of autism or ADHD other than the fact that I'm 27: not old, and my classmates and I didn't have those excuses growing up... I mean, disorders... medical conditions, or... whatever they are.

Don't call me insensitive. I jest, I jest. Truly, I can assure you that I feel there are a good many people on planet Earth that, 'just ain't right.' However, in this touchy feely world where children can sue you if they don't get their dessert and hippies working for the EPA are licensed to kill because you want to change your landscaping, it seems there isn't much room left for humor; let alone something as subtle and potentially dangerous as satire.

On a mildly related note, isn't it pretty badass to have such a forceful adjective as part of your name? Savage. Not only would it be fun to have a radio show and call it The Savage World, but think of all the expletives you could throw in there.

Chad Hull. I've come to terms with it. But it doesn't really have a lot of presence. Unlike Micheal Savage or Chuck Norris which conjure images of 90's pro-wrestlers or a room full of dead bodies laid low by roundhouse kicks.

Yeah, I'll have another...

Why?

How, could you possibly need more than one book to tell a story? I’m gonna grab two books off my shelf as best I can at random… what do we have; Brandon Sanderson Elantris and Nicolai Gogol Dead Souls; two great, contrasting examples: complete and fulfilling, and not multi-volume epics. In a publishing world that seems to appreciate concise storytelling, the need for book two and three in a ‘series’ seems to be an oxymoron. Naturally, you can have it both ways if you’re making money.

It would seem that some genres lend themselves better to a series than others from the point of view of the publisher (can you imagine Water for Elephants or 19 minutes as a trilogy?) In my mind, the only thing worse than a planned series is a successful ‘first’ that found an audience and then some how turned into a series. Happily, I feel this happens more often than not in film where the revenue gain is higher in both percentage and dollar value (can you recall the sequels to the Matrix or Pirate of the Caribbean?)

Why can’t a complete story be told in 450 pages? 99% of the time that I read book two of three, I always wonder ‘what is the idea/character that is so inflated in this story that it needed more than one book?’ Weak characters that take up pages, plot elements that aren’t essential to the main story and host of other reasons are the main issues.

Gogol didn’t exactly have to end Deal Souls when he did; point in fact he didn’t. The book, ends with an ellipsis and an author’s note saying “here the manuscript breaks off.” But how many sequels did Gogol write? (None) Elantris left me fully satisfied but raised many unanswered questions. It is perhaps begging for a sequel, but on top of not burdening me--the reader--with superficial fluff, I was allowed to make the book my own.

I, the reader, can come to my own conclusion from what Sanderson gave me but perhaps didn’t explicitly conclude. The narrator; in Dead Souls calls the reader out (in that weird fashion that only 19^th century writers could do and get away with…) and challenges you to take up his train of thought. Again, at that point it is my book. I would think it a mark of success to tell a story and have the reader be able to take part in it and not just at the end but all throughout. Anyone can dictate, but to engage is something more subtle, difficult to achieve, and infinitely more rewarding. (I dare you to imagine how brilliant Harry Potter or Robert Jordan’s twelve volume epic--that he DIED before he could complete because it was so long!--would have been in one story…)

There are always exceptions: Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell is all kinds of long as was The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova for two off the top of my head, but they are two very controlled and patient authors (perhaps even too much so for her own good in the case of Clarke; I kind of wanted another 200 pages from Kostova) but these are indeed exceptions and not the norm.

The publishing world has raved about The Name of the Wind for a few years now. The reason I haven’t read it is because it is one of three and only one is out at retail. I like fantasy and generally when that many people say, ‘it rocks,’ it does. But even still, I have to wonder does any one story merit three plus books at 700 plus pages each? I mean, I got bills to pay and life to live, sadly I don’t get to read as much as I’d like. Let’s be real, War and Peace, Don Quixote; both are only one book and 1,200 pages. What does an author have to say that is so important that it demands at least three years of my time and 2,100 pages to say? There are some fantasy series, not to call anyone out by name, that span seven years of wizarding school or twelve volumes of early adulthood ass kicking…

To play the part of Machiavelli, (Wayne, have you read The Prince and The social Discourses? They perfectly explain our: America's--and yes, you are an American!--folly of Iraq) I should say I have no problem with extended world building. I would argue James Clavell didn’t write direct sequels and there are many others that build upon previous settings, history and characters as he did.

Perhaps, I’m not that good a writer yet. Perhaps, I’m lazy, or just not focused enough on the needs of the publishing industry to make money as opposed to superficial 'artistic interest' of the story (which are subjective; I know, I know). Either way, sequels--outside of the bartender asking if I want another-- just don’t do it for me.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to start book three of Gene Wolfe’s series concerning Latro and I’ve heard Sanderson’s Mistborn trilogy is quite good as well...

On the plane with Latro

I’m currently in the middle of the five hour flight to San Francisco.  To keep me company I have Gene Wolfe’s Latro in the Mist, an omnibus of Soldier of the Mist and Soldier of Arete.  I love Wolfe’s writing, but he makes you--the reader--work to appreciate it.  Of his works that I’ve read, I wouldn’t say any were easy to read, nor would I call them difficult but he is far from a conventional storyteller.

Is it okay today to ask a reader to, ‘work’ or do we expect to pick up a book in the same passive manner we do the remote control?  The work that Wolfe ask of his readers (and I’m sure there are many other who write in much the same style) is not so much work in the sense of a murder-mystery, who-done-it sort, it is the expectation that the reader really take an active role in the story: making inferences about events, characters, and supposition about untold things based on what is known.  Is there a regular audience for such writers?  I’m wondering if a book can be written today where the reader is the detective and not the main character doing all the work for the reader, or would today’s book buying populace shy away from such effort.    

What I don’t want to digress into is, what is ‘commercial’ and what is ‘literary.’  I have no idea what the real or perceived connotation of those words are and as a matter of principle I wouldn’t accept an explanation from anyone that dared to tell me.  

Soldier of the Mist was written in 1986.  Writing trends, publishing trends, and the all-mighty consumer trends have changed since then.  In a time where it seems that all things are becoming increasingly streamlined and ‘commercial’ and vendors adhere to the ‘give what’s proven to sell’ ideology it seems that their is a distinct opportunity for true originality to be obscured and forgotten, or deemed unsell-able and never truly ‘discovered.’  Happily, I’m not an agent nor editor but that “unique voice” (oh, how I hate the phrase!) that is so highly sought after probably hasn't been proven at retail and logic would lead me to believe that such a voice probably wouldn’t be a successful retail endeavor.  (I feel it necessary to say that I am not that ‘voice.’  To indemnify myself--if you will--from being portrayed as the jaded wannabe author.  I’m speaking in generalities, not personal specifics.)  

Returning to Wolfe and his work, the main character is named Latro and the Mist is a reference to his memory.  He forgets everything upon going to sleep and writes down as much as he can when he is able in a book.  (Latro only remembers this fact as the first chapter of his book--Wolfe’s novel--is called “read this each day.”)  

The book is written in first person and while Latro isn’t exactly a standard unreliable narrator he certainly has his flaws.  Who is manipulating him, to what end and how far can I trust Latro in terms of how he spins things?  This is complicated by the fact that Latro is trying to figure out all of the same issues while trying to keep some manner of focus on what he thinks is his objective.  On top of which, a great deal of what Latro recalls, and thus writes, is given to him second hand; as in he forgot and someone else told him about it.  How believable is this information?  It is an interesting story mechanic to be sure, but makes for anything but a casual, light-hearted, ‘fun’ read.  

Is that okay?  Most great books are dictated to the reader more than a little bit and I don’t just mean 19^th literature where everything was ‘told’ to the reader.  Sure authors employ more ‘showing’ than ‘telling’ but it still comes down to giving a reader something that will make them turn the pages really fast. 

I compare this kind of literary work to The Godfather and The Godfather Part II (obviously, I’m speaking of the films.)  In the first as the moviegoer you sit there and enjoy what is given to you.  You get a fairly simple story, phenomenal dialogue, and brilliant acting.  Everyone leaves the experience understanding what went on.  You can’t sit and watch Part II in the same way.  You’ll probably hit pause a few times and ask yourself: “Why are they in Cuba, who is this Jewish guy, and when was it okay for Corleones to kill family members?”  I don’t think the experience is any less enjoyable than the former--in fact I think it’s better on all levels--but at almost all times I would rather watch the first over the second.  

Is it okay to write books today in the same manner as Wolfe has, and still does?  Well, obviously he can.  But a first timer?  I doubt it.  I don’t know that such a ‘unique voice’ would be accepted on any level without a preexisting a fan base.  

So which do you prefer, the easy road of, take what’s given no thought necessary fiction or do you enjoy reading for some unknown ‘beautiful and lofty’ pretentious reasons that I’ve alluded to here?  As for me, I can say a little of both.  

Wow, I surprised myself.  I almost made it through a post concerning Gene Wolfe without mentioning The Book of the New Sun.   

Where do literary agents hide their horns and other demonic attributes?

To all those as yet unpublished first-time novelist out there this is meant to be funny. However, the same crowd has undoubtedly asked this question before with a straight face and a serious demeanor. I can say truthfully, I know the answer to the title question.

It would be easier to drop-kick God in the face than to break into publishing. To achieve the former all you need to is faith; then die and possess willpower unknown to any living mortal to follow through with said drop-kick. To achieve that latter perseverance, patience, a computer, some degree of ability: dare I say ‘talent’ and a drinking habit seem to be mandatory but won't guarantee results.

In the publishing world, rejection is part of acceptance for all but the most sensational of first time authors. Rejection is out there waiting for you. Go ahead, try to get published; rejection hit you right between the eyes with astounding alacrity, didn't it? But how do you make sense of it and possibly learn from failure, or at bear minimum console yourself?

Thus begins a really long blog post.

So far I've queried nine agents; six passed after (supposedly) reading my query letter, and the other three teased with the read the query, read the partial, read the full manuscript and then pass in the end with the sure-to-be-classic catch all line, 'it's just not for me.'

The first form letter (rejection/FAIL letter) I received was beautiful. At the time I didn't know it was beautiful because I didn't have anything else to compare it to. Tragically in my despair, I threw it away when it should have been framed and put on the wall as the standard of excellence that all have since failed to achieve.

For reasons that are not in my best interest to get into until published (and perhaps this post isn't in my best interest), agents--as a whole--strike me as funny: wildly contradictory and very hypocritical. Of the four that I've met in person, only one of which I've queried, they have all shown themselves to be wonderful people: anything but contradictory hypocrites. But it's so much more fun to talk/write about the exceptions in life as opposed to the standards.

Professionalism is the word agents love to harp on when giving advice in the query process, be it on their blog, a Q & A panel, or any books they might have written on how to get their attention. "Be professional. Treat the query process like you would if you were a prospect for a new job." So you drop sensational references in the first sentence, pitch a lovely story, mention your prior publications in closing, your formating is perfect and you even spelled the agent’s name right; now when you're rejected let us inspect the professionalism of the form letter.

All agents want a self addressed stamped envelop (SASE) so they can reject you at no cost to themselves. That’s fine by me, it makes complete sense. A few are going green and do things by email. That's fine too but what you can't do is both. If you ask for a SASE respect my resources and use it, don't send an email saying, "No," then trash the SASE. Happily that has only happened once.

The second nicest form letter I've gotten was separated from the one I wish I'd framed only due to the slight difference in the quality of paper: the all-star form letter had a percentage of cotton linen in it. Outside of the paper, it was personal preference that endeared me to one over the other. They both had my name and address in the top left corner. The address line on both read , "Dear Mr. Hull." The name of my book was mentioned and at the very end, the unthinkable happened: the agent (or someone on their behalf) signed it. As in, someone picked up a pen, (oh the effort!) and wrote (or forged) the agent’s name. I'm aware both of these letters were templates, but templates exist to be modified, unlike form letters that are preprinted for everyone.

On to the not so professional form letters...

One was printed on super budget paper bought by the ream from an office supply store. Expect the letter wasn't printed, rather badly photocopied: blurry and hard to read, with a scanned in signature that looked awful--not the actual handwriting but the scan and the copy combined made it all but illegible.

One, was a nicely preprinted, "note card." Presentation and print were very well done, but it was equally impersonal and felt 'cold.'

The absolute worst--or best for the purposes of this post--form letter I got was a super budget piece of paper cut into thirds. But I didn't even get a full third, because whatever Yossarian was stuffing envelops that day awarded themselves bonus points for the rare achievement of rounded edges with the paper cutter. I could read most of it--the gist of which was, "No"--but the crown jewel of this form letter was the grease mark and tomato seed: someone's lunch was dropped, or dare I say, placed on my form letter and then without second thought shipped out to me at my cost. Very professional and a great way to present yourself to potential clients, wouldn't you agree?

I understand that I'm in agents debt for allowing them to reject me, but if that is how they communicate with me, how am I to assume they communicate with their peers, editors and other people in the profession? Next time you get a thank you note from a friend for attending their wedding, study the note. If it looked like the above form letter see if you don't re-evaluate your thoughts concerning this friend and if going to their wedding was really worth it in the first place.

See what agents don't understand (and I can write this because agents and their underlings are too busy mailing me a form letter to read my blog) is that professionalism is not a one way street, it's a revolving door and I can prove it.

Imagine a job opening at a great firm: well established, having a wonderful image, and the best benefits. Your references couldn't be better, your experience over qualifies you, and it is generally known that a Ken Starr led inquisition would be in order if you weren't offered the job. You go to the interview and things are decidedly different: the people you meet don’t bother with personal grooming and smell strongly of hot feet. A young lady on the phone alternates between nudging her screaming infant on the floor with their foot and yelling at a client, and the guy doing the interview is nothing more than a hippie--complete with dreads and a burning bowl of hash on his desk. Nothing about the firm, particularly the image, is what you expected. After seeing the inside you may not be so keen on accepting the job when it's offered.

Infer what you can from form letters because the old adage about first impressions still holds true. In fact, rejection is pretty easy to take. Imagine my horror if the Lunch Stain Agency offered me representation.

Am I being petty? Do I look like the guy that cries about the system while screaming, “It’s not fair!” I don’t think so, because there are some agents out there that invest--both time and money--in rejecting potential clients for no other reason than class and perception of image. While substance is greater than both, I assume a level playing field from all those I query as I do the best I can to, ‘check them out.’ The attention to detail shown by a few validates my concern. And if by chance any agent is reading my blog, has gotten this far, and disagrees (all of which are highly unlikely) feel free to drop your lunch on my form letter.

Where do literary agents hide their horns? All riddles are easy after you learn the answer: the form letter is where to look. Rejection is really easy to take, especially when you learn that it could be preferable to acceptance.

Who reads books anyway?

With such high-profile literary folk in the publishing industry offering their opinions on the digital revolution and how it will affect publishing, being just as cool as they are, naturally, I feel obligated to offer my own two cents. Jonathan Lyons wonders if Kindle will kill publishing, Nathan Bransford muses on the E-Book era and Celeste Fine offers Steve Jobs her thoughts on the perfect E-Reader. So what do I have to say about the matter?

The future is digital and no one needed me to tell you that. Movie rental stores will be a thing of the past sooner than later, I still raise my eyebrows at the small percentage that actually buys CD’s considering iTunes doesn't involve leaving your house and only cost$9.99 Even interactive games--an inherent technologically advanced industry--has seen large success with downloadable content.

That said, I can’t believe that DVD’s, CD’s, or physical software disk will truly go away in my lifetime. After all, vinyl records still have their niche (even that makes me wonder about the advent of the eight track…) I believe there will always be a need for physical books, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Kindle. It’s all the rage: taking a lot of flak and perhaps garnering even more praise; let me add to the flak. While digital is the future Kindle is not. It’s the first attempt--a very good first attempt, but a first nonetheless. Do you remember the first iPod, the original Nintendo DS, or, dare I say, the first cellular phone? Yeah, well, most people don’t either because the manufacturers of those products have done all they can to make the public forget. Consumer electronics go through phases and hardware is updated regularly. Kindle’s first problem has nothing to do with its capabilities or perceived weaknesses, rather the fact that it’s just not cool.

Sounds shallow doesn’t it? Imagine you’re on a metro city train and you see two people sitting next to each other, one with an iPod Touch, and the other with a Kindle. You also notice a creepy, twitching, Amy Winehouse looking girl that you could swear is going to snatch something and run as soon as the train stops and the door opens. Which do you think she’s gonna grab?

The Kindle will get better and who knows, one day it may grace the threshold of, “cool.” But I doubt it, because cool is defined by a generation that doesn’t really buy books. (Sadly, I’m speaking of my own generation. I don’t have any figures or demographics to back this up but I’m willing to bet the average book buyer is not aged 18-35 and if anyone has info to prove me wrong I’m open to seeing it, and would in fact would welcome the opportunity.)

So since Kindle will never be cool--and the decline of interest in reading in today’s ‘youth’ is so well documented that I won’t harp on it here--who is Kindle, an expensive consumer electronic device, marketed to?

My grandmother, in her middle seventies, reads a lot. She will never buy a Kindle. If I bought her one she wouldn’t use it. She will always have a ‘book’ in hand when she reads. My mother, whose age I’m not allowed to mention, goes through about fifteen books a year in her book club and probably twice as many on her own. (If only I had that much time dedicated to reading; oh yeah, that’s right, I have a job.) She, nor any of her book club members, will ever buy a Kindle. It’s not that they’re all technologically challenged but Southerners become easily set in their ways and as a Southerner I don’t say this as a flaw. She’s not going to change for any of this new-fangled-Kindle nonsense, nor any other half-witted gadgetry. She is a book buyer.

As for me and my generation; as I’ve already said we--sadly--don’t read many books. When we do, it’s an event, something to talk about over dinner: “I just finished this new novel,” pretentious jerk ‘A’ says to impress ditzy girl ‘B,’ pausing after the comment to sip his merlot. (Actually that guy might be inclined to buy a Kindle…) When you’re not dealing with that crowd it actually gets worse.

There’s me. Chad Hull. I like books. I like them so much I own four--an all-time low--that I haven’t even read yet. I like the way they feel in my hands, the smell of the paper and all that other tacky sounding stuff. (And no I don’t take sunset walks or play fetch with Fido, my Cocker Spaniel, on the beach.) Specifically I like hardback books and I’ve even become the Master at buying them for less than seven dollars.

It should be noted that I’ve never handled a Kindle (and to those who have, how do you hold it without your thumbs hitting the page forward or page backward buttons?), but I know it can’t replicate my favorite aspect of reading. I have eighty pages left in Robert Graves, I, Claudius. (Just buy it, I promise it is more than worth your time and money regardless of your preferences in literature. Thanks for the suggestion Wanye!) Much as I like finishing a great book I love nothing more than starting a new one. I can see the pages dwindling down and I can quite literally feel the book’s progress toward a climax. I have no doubt Kindle tells you that you’re on page 388 of 468 but it’s not the same. And what’s to come of all my affection and lusty feelings for a physical book? Furthermore, am I the only person that thinks it would be cool to have a library--with actual books and not a hard drive or catalog of SD cards--in my house? Wait, scratch that. I referenced myself and buying a house at the same time, just ask Maura and she’ll explain that humor to you.

In each of the three generations I outlined there will be exceptions, but reading for pleasure is becoming a dying hobby. If you offer today’s sixteen year old $350 for a Kindle or an XBOX, I think their choice would be clear to all of us.

It only took me a little more than a thousand words to say this, but in part due to Kindle, reading a novel and reading a book are no longer the same thing.

I won't go so far as to say, Kindle = FAIL, but I will say that Kindle Version 1.0 for $350 is a pretty high price for so much EPIC FAIL.

For what it’s worth, I plan on refuting my argument and all points made very shortly…

Girls who work out are hot

I'm not only referring to the sure-to-be models in gym advertisements (and sadly none of them go to my gym) nor am I talking about your gym's resident Amazon, bodybuilder, or eighty year old grandmother.  Specifically, I'm referencing the women around my age--regardless of whether or not they are physically attractive--that spend time on physical conditioning for no greater reason than selfish desire.  

Allow me to explain...

I work out, Monday thru Friday at seven in the morning.  I am not a morning person.  I love to sleep; it is one of the greatest human past times and the single area of life in which I excel.  No one has to go the gym and anyone who goes early in the morning isn't necessarily vain but I would argue that they are making a commitment to satisfy their ego: there is no other reason to be awake and putting yourself through such physical stress at that hour.  

I know many women who say they are going to start or, "start back" working out.  Most of them never get around to it and the few who do are so irregular that they shouldn't even bother.  I saw a new girl at the gym last week.  When you work out this early faces tend to become familiar and newcomers are treated with silent skepticism.      

Only she wasn't new.  She usually worked out in the evenings but her schedule at work had changed and her grad school classes demanded she work out in the morning.  She wasn't happy about it, but there she was, and even more striking , there she has been everyday since.     

The gift of my generation seems to grow weaker with time.  We were the kids that set our parents VCR's to tape their shows at the appropriate hour and straightened out the Rubix's Cube because if left unfinished our failure would present us with a headache.  We didn't innately know how to do either of these tasks (and in the case of the VCR we couldn't always read and/or understand the instructions), but our generation is blessed with a stick-to-it-till-it's-done gift that wouldn't let us walk away.  Perhaps the obstacles were smaller and less significant as children but today overcoming greater challenges only makes the success more satisfying.  

Today, I feel we give in too easily and acquiesce to the psychological excuses that our parent's generation make for our short comings.  Instead of persevering through the pain and achieving what we really want, we revel in mediocrity and consolse ourselves with society's lowered expectations.  It would be a terrible crime to waste our unique gifts on the preceding, and quiete literally dying, generation that came before us.  Surely we owe them a debt of gratitude but this is too much.  

As to the girls at the gym who wake up at six-thirty to be there by seven...they're sexy.  Most of them unknowingly exercise the same devotion and zeal to a given project that all of us utilized as children.  Their determination refuses to allow them to give up on an established routine, even if it's only maintenance of their body's status quo; just like a younger sister I have that wouldn't get off the couch until she was certain our mother wouldn't miss any of her soaps for the week we were on vacation. 

Pride and ego aren't always bad things.  

The obstacles that keep an adult from what we really want to do get even more complex than work, and school as we grow older, but if it is something important, we manage to find time.  It's the people who tell you what they did, or are presently doing--not those who speak in future tense--that we, as a people, admire most.  Those who sit around musing upon doing, "this and that" we generally have no patience with because we can muse in much the same light.  It's hard to tell an interesting story about something you haven't done. 

As for me and my character, say what you will, but in a way the attributes of at least this particular girl in the gym, are more attractive than today's supermodels and infinetly more enduring.