Reading: SFWA Bulletin #157
Music: Utopia's "Anthology" (1974-1985)
TV/Movie: West Wing (kick-ass episode)
Link o' the Day: Astral Avenue

I came across this post on the PulpMags mailing list:

".... Here's the thing. The book has something interesting to say about every whole number up to, as I recall, 37, about which no-one can find any point of interest or distinction whatever. "

Number 37 is of prime importance to me. When I was a wee lad I lived in an orphanage, which used numbers instead of names for quick identification. My number was 37. It made a life-long impression on me.

= Bob Tucker

[quoted with permission]

Now this simply floored me.

Depending on who I've had to identify myself to, I've needed numbers. A great many numbers. My social security number, phone number, license number, insurance number, account number, membership number, license plate number, house number, and zip code. People aren't people unless they have a number. Now this naturally follows a society as computerized as ours. Numbers are easier to sort than names, and unique numbers can be handed out whereas there are plenty of people out there with my same exact name. (This is nothing new, however. Recall Jean Valjean in LES MISERABLE and his designation 24601.)

But it's still a little dehumanizing when you stop and think about it. I won't even go into the dangers of identity theft. Fortunately I don't have the sort of money to tempt identity thieves and my credit is so bad I sometimes need to show ID when paying with cash, but you never know, which follows (in a way) to yesterday's topic du jour regarding the amount of personal experience is related in weblogs.

But what about Bob? For those who don't know, Bob's a fairly famous person in SF circles. His very name has even been the basis for the term Tuckerization where authors will sometimes use the names of real people in their books for (usually) innocuous reasons such as egoboost. Worldcon usually has a few Big Name Authors auction Tuckerizations in stories. (And yes, Bob Tucker is also known as Wilson Tucker--Big Name Author in how own right--it's the same person). But the point being, here is an individual who was once known as a number for mere convenience. Now he's a name whose name has become a word unto itself.

Pretty nifty, eh?

Maybe we don't have so much to fear after all.

* * *
I still can't seem to figure out how to fix my wrotten plot device from the Tecumseh story, so I'm desk-drawering that for a few more days and working instead on that odd little horror/slipstream story, "Lucy" and continuing with the hammering of "Interworld Truck Kings Artist Collective" back into proper shape. Long before I started this blog, many months, I wrote a juvie short called "Walter Gibson's Mechanical Cat" and submitted it to the folks at Cicada. Does anyone out there know what their turnaround is like? It's been longer than the usual market reports suggest and now I wonder if it isn't time to query them. I just hate jogging the elbows of an editor who is still mulling it over in the "maybe" pile. Actually, while I'm at it, Drexel Online Journal has had a story of mine for several months now as well. They turned down some poems within a month, but I'm wondering what the status is of my story submission. I note that Ralan.com has them as a "slow responder" now. Dang.

I really wish these markets had quicker turnarounds. I hate risking a simultaneous submission, but the waiting it a real pain in the posterior.

* * *
I'm given to understand that Jean Porter herself loves the work I did on Edward Dymtryk's HOLLYWOOD'S GOLDEN AGE. Things like that are always good to hear. Someplace around here I have a letter from William Nolan praising the work on HAVE YOU SEEN THE WIND? Now if I can just figure out how to wrangle these into endorsements to send to some Big Money publishers.

* * *
I've finalized the arrangements for my attendance at Worldcon. I've been seeing a few people sprinkled about here and there who are opting out or cancelling their plans because of the SARS virus scare. The way I see it--we have months to go. It could get worse, but it could also get better. Presently the WHO and CDC have only issued travel advisories--and these are not organizations who downplay things. I'm willing to risk investing on Worldcon attendance now even if it turns out the whole thing is going to go bust come September, although Torcon could well become a replay of Boccaccio's DECAMERON. Imagine the stories we'd tell.

* * *
Today's Link of the Day goes to a collection text file ezines from the 80s--a fanzine called Astral Avenue by fellow Rhode Islander Paul Di Filippo. It's entertaining in spots and the spots that are less-entertaining can be easily scrolled past. Some interesting names show up. My favorite piece is "How I Almost Spent My Summer Vacation" found in Astral Avenue #2. My next favorite bits are the two editions that rip into Stephen King's style. (You can look for them yourself--it'll be worth it. I respect King as a Writer's Writer, but he's not someone whose fiction I can barely stand. In any case, Di Filippo has quite a bit to say on the matter.

Enjoy.