WebSTAR Technical Support

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I have an experience that convinces me that it’s time for new Web server software.

Last week, I upgraded my office Internet connection from cable modem to DSL. The new connection has download speeds about 26 times faster than the old connection and it costs less than half the price. Upgrading was a no-brainer. The only thing I don’t understand is why it took me so long to realize that DSL was available in my area.

To upgrade to DSL, I had to lease or buy a DSL modem. Since it only cost $60 to buy, I bought it. I was very surprised to discover that it was also a wireless router. Within twenty minutes of the telephone man leaving, I had the wireless feature up and running and was connecting my network computers to it, thus cutting my Apple Airport Extreme Base Station out of the loop.

Things are never as easy as they seem — not that the configuration stuff seemed easy. It seemed hard. After all, I had to obtain a fixed IP address, then map it into the new router and use port forwarding configurations to point incoming traffic to my G4, which does server duty. If I talked about it in detail with a layman, his eyes would glaze over and he’d pass out. If I talked about it in detail with someone really knowledgeable, he’d know the truth: that I knew just enough about networking to make me dangerous.

I set everything up and, on Friday, had my DNS guy, Dave, make the changes to my DNS records. PGS Internet Services handles DNS for the 19 domain names I host in my office. In the past, I’ve handed over some of my more bothersome Web clients to them. PGS charges more than I do, but they have infinitely more patience. I think they feel like they owe me for the business, so they host my DNS for free. I try not to make changes, but this was a biggie and it had to be done.

By Saturday morning, the DNS had already propagated through to the Cable America DNS server. I access the Internet via wireless cable modem (how’s that for a contradiction in terms?) at home and I was able to connect to all of my Web sites except, for some reason, aneclecticmind.com. That came later in the day. Feedburner and Blogger still couldn’t see the sites, so I couldn’t update my podcasts or the ones I do for KBSZ. But I knew it was a matter of time.

By Sunday evening, everything was accessible from just about everywhere. Mission accomplished. Total downtime: less than the 48 hours I’d expected.

But, like I said, things weren’t as easy as they seemed. Because when I got to my office this morning, I quickly discovered that my production computer was unable to access my server for FTP, e-mail, or Web sites.

I had a lot of work to do — I’m still working on that QuickBooks book and I think I’m supposed to have it done by the end of the week. (Oops.) So I didn’t start troubleshooting right away. But it was driving me nuts that it wouldn’t work. And the fact that I could access it if I connected to the Internet via the Airport wireless network, which was still connected to the cable modem, was driving me nuts. So I went into full troubleshooting mode and spent about an hour banging away on it, trying all kinds of things, before I finally called the DSL modem company, Adaptec, convinced that it was a router configuration problem.

Now Adaptec has a technical support policy that basically says that they’ll help you with easy stuff for free but you have to pay $29 to get help with difficult stuff. Port forwarding for a shared static IP address fell into the difficult stuff category. But it was worth $29 to me to get it working right so I could stop thinking about it.

And that’s what I told the tech support guy I got on the toll-free phone number after about 10 minutes of waiting (their dime). But he said that he might not have to charge me. I should explain the problem.

So I did. And he knew immediately what the cause was. Here’s the simplified version. When you’re sitting at your computer and you type a domain name like www.aneclecticmind.com into your Web browser, your computer goes out to its DNS server on the Internet to find out the IP address for that domain name. In my case, it was learning that the IP address for the site I wanted to visit was the same IP address as the one I was trying to visit from. Adaptec routers don’t like that and they consider it an error so they don’t completely process the request. Apple Airport routers, on the other hand, are much more forgiving and let you visit yourself as often as you like. That’s why I didn’t get the error when I was using the Airport router and I started getting it when I began using the Adaptec router.

“How do I fix it?” I asked.

“You don’t,” he replied. “But there is a workaround. Just use the local IP address of the server computer.”

The local address is the address assigned by the DHCP services in the router, which I’ve manually set on the server computer. I typed that into my FTP software and it worked. Then I tried e-mail and it worked, too. Then I tried the Web browser and bzzzt. It didn’t work.

“It should,” he said. “There must be a configuration problem with your Web server software.”

Since I’d already taken up enough of his time and he’d solved most of my problem for free, I thanked him and hung up. The problem was sufficiently fixed to get my mind off it enough to work. I finished Chapter 6 of my book, then churned through 4 chapters of edits that had arrived that morning. I had to fiddle with my printer to get it to work on the network. I wasted about 30 minutes and 50 sheets of paper trying to get it to clear out a very old IP address so it would accept a new one from the router. No luck. But at least I could print.

Then I listened to my voicemail messages from the weekend, which I’d also put off until I was done working. By that time it was about 3:30, my normal quitting time. But instead of quitting, I dove into another troubleshooting session, this time with the folks at 4D.

4D, which started life as a database software company, bought StarNine, makers of WebSTAR Web server software, several years ago. I’d been using WebSTAR since version 3.0, when an evaluation copy of it had been given to me by Eric Zelenka, WebSTAR’s product manager. Back then I ran it under Mac OS 9 on an 8500/180 with an ISDN connection to the ‘Net. I believe Eric upgraded me to WebSTAR 4 and later I paid the big bucks to upgrade to WebSTAR 5. I’m currently running WebSTAR 5.3.3 on Mac OS X 10.3.9 on a 866MHz G4 with 384 MB of RAM.

Since upgrading to WebSTAR 5, all I’ve had is headaches with the software. The most bothersome thing is its spurious restarts: the software will shut down and restart itself about 100-200 times a day. For several months, I used 4D’s free technical support option — e-mail — to try to troubleshoot the problem. No luck. I gave up. I had to write an AppleScript that would automatically go into a specific folder where WebSTAR kept storing “backup” files it didn’t need every time it restarted itself. I discovered the buried files when I realized that something was eating up my disk space: by that time, there were over 12,000 of the damn files in the folder. Now the folder is cleared out every morning as part of the restart process.

So today, I wasn’t expecting much from 4D technical support. I knew whatever help I got was going to cost me. $40 was the going rate at 4D. But again, I thought it was worthwhile to get the problem resolved by talking to a real person.

I called and talked to a real person after being on hold (my dime) for about 15 minutes. To his credit, he really did try to help. But after going over the obvious — which I’d already done — he was out of suggestions. Time to “escalate” the case. That means time for me to break out my credit card.

He switched me to someone named David and he took my American Express card info. Then he tried to switch me back to the original guy. I was on hold for about 5 minutes when he got back on and told me the lines were busy and I’d have to wait in the queue. Duh. So I waited. My dime turned into a few bucks. On top of the $40 I’d already spent. At least the hold music was better than Adaptec’s.

Finally, a guy who sounded pretty French to me got on the phone. I groaned. Not because he was French, but because I knew I’d have to explain the problem all over again from scratch and he’d try all the things the first guy tried before getting down to real business. So I explained it. And he said, “I know exactly what the problem is.”

I laughed. “I bet you don’t. But I’m willing to listen.”

He spent the next 30 minutes crawling around inside my configuration files by accessing the server as an administrator. He made some small changes. He had me try accessing. It wouldn’t work. At one point, he had it set up so that I could use the local IP address to access one of my Web sites. But I wanted to be able to access all of them.

While he was fiddling around, I was thinking. Something he said gave me an idea.

“How about if we create a new Web site with a default folder that’s the same as the WebServer folder (the folder in which all of the other Web site folders reside). We can set that as the default that’s accessed with the local IP address. Then I can just type in a slash and the name of the folder containing the site I want. That should do it.”

“It won’t work,” he told me, dashing my hopes. He tried to explain why, but I didn’t really understand what he was saying.

I let him fiddle around for another five minutes. I was thinking hard. I couldn’t understand why my idea wouldn’t work. So I tried it. And it worked.

I told him and he had difficulty believing me. But it worked and although it wasn’t the perfect solution, it was a workaround I was willing to live with.

“So tell me something,” I said to him. “You didn’t fix the problem and I did. Do I get my $40 back?”

The answer, after a long story in which he explained that he was actually in charge of technical support, was no.

So I spent $40 plus about 90 minutes of long distance telephone time to come up with my own solution for the problem.

I’m still trying to decide whether I should call American Express and begin a chargeback for the $40. I didn’t, after all, get what I paid for. What do you think?

In the meantime, I’d spent a lot of that time on hold doing research. I discovered that Mac OS X 10.4 Server will indeed run on a G4. And it includes not only the well-respected and highly compatible Apache Web server, but e-mail, DNS, blogging software, streaming audio server, steaming video server, iChat server, and so many more things I don’t have. Of course, it is a bit pricey at $999.

But after my dismal technical support experiences with the 4D WebSTAR folks, I’m ready for a change.

The Importance of Reading Notams

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Mike and I get a surprise on a day trip to Boulder City, NV.

Mike, my significant other, flies airplanes. I don’t hold it against him. Someone has to do it.

He owns a 1974 Grumman Tiger with a partner, Jeff, who also lives in Wickenburg. The plane is in excellent condition, well cared-for and hangared. Mike’s previous partner, Ray, flew it even less than Mike does, so it didn’t get out much. Jeff flies it more often. Mike knows he needs to fly it more often.

That’s what yesterday’s trip was all about. He knows he needs to fly more often and I know I need to go with him once in a while. One of the reasons he bought the plane was so that we could take longer trips than we could by helicopter. Back then, I owned a Robinson R22, which cruised at 80 knots with 2 on board (if we were lucky) and couldn’t fully tank up with fuel so any flight longer than 90 minutes required a fuel stop. It seemed to make sense to have an aircraft that could get us places farther away in less time. The Tiger, I was told, cruises at 130 knots. (I have yet to see it cruise any faster than 120, but I think it’s because Mike doesn’t like to push it.) Of course, in January I took delivery of a Robinson R44, which cruises at 115 knots and can fly more than 3 hours without refueling, so the speed/long trip point isn’t very valid any more.

Anyway, Mike knew he had to fly more and I knew I had to fly more with him.

For the record, I do not know how to fly airplanes. I have a total of 1.5 hours in single engine airplanes and .9 hours in gliders. All of my other flight time is in helicopters, with a tiny .4 in gyros. I have no interest in piloting an airplane. I admit that I’m a helicopter snob.

So yesterday morning, we poured over books, looking for a destination for a day trip. I should probably say that he poured over books; I was busy trying to see whether my Web server had come back to the world after an IP address change. He used the old iBook to log into various Web sites for more information, including weather. I had suggested the runway at Monument Valley, which I visited by car on my long road trip in August. I was pretty sure it was paved. (His insurance prohibits him from landing on unpaved runways.) But his sources of information — primarily AirNav, I think — said it was dirt and showed a picture with reddish dirt to prove it. Of course, AOPA’s Airport Directory, which appears to include more errors than reliable information, didn’t mention the runway there at all, despite the fact that is widely used by tour aircraft and is walking distance from the Gouldings Lodge complex.

After a while, he declared his conclusion. Boulder City, NV.

For those of you who are not familiar with the southwest, Boulder City was built to house the workers who built the Hoover Dam, the first big dam on the Colorado River, back in the 1930s. It’s the only city in Nevada that does not have gambling. It’s a small but growing city, uncomfortably close to Las Vegas and comfortably close to Lake Mead, the Colorado River, and of course, Hoover Dam. It has a nice airport with three runways (although I think the short parallel runway is closed), fuel, and other amenities I’ll get to shortly.

The plan was to land in Boulder City, tie down — that’s what you do to an airplane so a gust of wind doesn’t take it away while you’re not around — and go into town for lunch.

Our plan set, we went to the airport. While Mike pulled out the plane and did his preflight, I made a quick trip to my helicopter, which I’d left parked out on the ramp overnight. I’d been experimenting with video from the helicopter and wanted to see if a cable adapter I had would fit the headset jack so I could run audio right from the intercom system into my camcorder. It did. Along the way I ran into one of Quantum’s flight instructors, who was fueling up on a cross-country flight with a student from Scottsdale. We chatted a long time. Heck, it’s hard not to chat for a long time with a fellow pilot. His student asked me about Glendale. He said he’d seen me taking off and landing all day long last weekend. I told him about the 131 passengers and both of them were suitably impressed.

Back at the airplane, Mike was just about ready to go. I climbed on board — literally — and buckled up. He started up and taxied out to the runway. A while later, we were airborne, heading toward Needles, NV. His plan was to fly to the Colorado River around Needles, then follow that up through Bullhead City and over Lake Mohave before heading in to Boulder City. The flight should take just over an hour. It was probably the same route I would have taken in the helicopter. A direct flight straight across the desert is incredibly boring. Flying along the river is a lot more interesting.

Everything went as planned with the exception of timing. We had a headwind of about 20 knots around Bullhead City. Bullhead City is notoriously windy and I think that’s one of the reasons so few people fly in there. The airport is right across the river from Laughlin, NV, with its semi-cheesy casinos, cheap hotels, and even cheaper buffets, but because 20 knot winds are relatively common, the casual pilots avoid the place like the plague. It’s silly, really. The wind just about always comes right down the runway, from up the river or down, so it’s not like there’s a challenging crosswind. That day it was coming down the river, steady enough to drop our ground speed down to 105 knots.

Past Bullhead City, I switched the radio frequency to Boulder City’s. It was still 40 or so miles away. But as we climbed to cross the mountains west of Lake Mohave, I got my first inkling that Boulder City wouldn’t be as easy as it should be.

“Young Eagle 12, left downwind runway 27,” came the voice.

Young Eagles is an EAA (Experimental Aircraft Association) program that gives free rides to kids aged 8 to 18. The idea is to introduce them to aviation in a fun, safe, and affordable way. Sometimes an EAA member just takes a few kid for rides. Other times, the local EAA chapter will hold a rally where they fly a bunch of kids. Hearing someone say Young Eagle 12 made me wonder if there were Young Eagle flights 1 through 11 out there, too. That would make 12 (or more) pilots out there, flying around the skies of Boulder City, without an air traffic controller to keep them organized.

My fears were confirmed when I heard a call from Young Eagle 3.

I say “fears” and I do mean this literally. I am intimately familiar with the local Wickenburg chapter of the EAA. These folks will meet religiously every month for an EAA meeting, refreshments, and a “program” — which could be something as stimulating as watching a VHS tape of the Reno Air Races on a television — but most members rarely actually fly. It frustrated the hell out of me. I love to fly and I like to fly with others. You know — a bunch of folks start one place and fly out to another for lunch or something. But these people seldom went anywhere. I used to go to meetings just to see if anything was planned, stay through the refreshments, leave a few bucks for the kitty, and head out before they started up the VCR and dimmed the lights. They did arrange a Young Eagles Rally once back in 2000, right after I got my R22 and I took 5 kids for rides. I think they tried again a few years ago, but only one or two pilots showed up. Not a very active group. I dropped my EAA membership and stopped going to meetings. I’m not the only one who wasn’t impressed. Every once in a while, a young, fresh person — usually a guy — would show up for a meeting. I’d never see him again.

So in my mind, an EAA chapter has a membership consisting primarily of people aged 65 or older who rarely — if ever — fly. Understand my fear when I thought 12 or more of them might be circling the skies of our destination airport?

We came over the hills and the airport came into view, still 15 miles away. That’s when the radio got really active. One call after another — pilots taking off, pilots landing, pilots climbing out, pilots flying downwind. And just to really confuse things, there were helicopters flying in and out, too. Papillon and Silver State were both doing tours. But I wasn’t worried about them. I was worried about those darn airplanes.

Mike flew out to the dry lake bed south of the airport, then turned for a 45° approach to a left downwind for Runway 27L, which was the one all the other pilots seemed to be using. Three airplanes took off in quick succession and made left downwind departures right before he got into downwind. I kept pointing them out for him. I also watched the helicopters make their approaches under the downwind traffic pattern. When we were on downwind, I caught sight of an airplane flying below us. I realized with a start that he was landing on Runway 33, which would have him crossing runway 27 while others were taking off and landing. I pointed him out to Mike just when the pilot said he was going around. Going around (to him) meant making a sharp right turn that put him under Mike’s wing somewhere. Mike saw him go there but never saw him come out. I didn’t see anything and I started getting panicky. In a helicopter, I could just stop where I was, turn around, and look for the bugger. Then Mike saw the guy, confirmed he was no factor, and turned base. I closed my eyes for landing — I always do — and felt relief when the wheels touched pavement.

We taxied back to fuel and found the ramp crammed with airplanes and helicopters on display and tons of people. It was a Young Eagle Rally coupled with the Boulder City Airport Open House. And those people at Boulder City really know how to put on a show.

After fueling up — at only $3.39/gallon — we tied down the Tiger on one of the last open spaces on the ramp. Lots of people had already parked their planes in a gravel parking lot. Then we walked over to the FBO to see whether we could arrange for ground transportation into town. Mike still wanted to go with Plan A.

The FBO at Boulder City is run by Silver State Helicopters, which does tours out of that location. The woman at the desk was just handing us the keys for the Courtesy Car when Brent A, who I knew from Papillon, walked up to the counter. He’d left Papillon to work for Silver State. We chatted for a while before he went back to work. I asked the woman at the counter if there was a Notam for the airport event and she told me there was. Mike and I left the airport feeling very silly.

Notam, for those who aren’t pilots, is short for NOTice to AirMen. (Sexist, I know, but I don’t really care.) It’s issued by an airport or the FAA and published by the FAA to inform pilots of things they should be notified about. Like the fact that the airport will be hosting an Open House that day or the fact that the airport will be closed to traffic from noon until 1:30 PM for aerobatics.

Pilots are supposed to read the notams for an airport as part of their flight planning. I usually read them with the weather info I get from Duats.com when I prepare for a cross-country flight. The problem is, there can be dozens of notams in a typical Duats report and it’s all too easy for your eyes to glaze over while you’re trying to figure out which ones actually apply to you. (Most don’t.) I would use that as an excuse for Mike on this particular trip, but it doesn’t apply. He admitted that he didn’t even look at the notams. Bad Mike!

I don’t want to give you the idea that I always look at notams when I fly to another airport. Although I usually do, I don’t always. For example, if I’m just going to fly up to Prescott and hop in my Toyota to go to the pet store or Home Depot, I’m a little light on flight planning. I usually peek at the weather, especially if it looks questionable, but I all-to-often completely skip the notams. Prescott has a tower and if there’s something going on, it’ll be on the ATIS (a recording of airport conditions) that I listen to on the way in.

I guess the reason we’re so lax about notams is because there’s seldom anything in them that affects us. Okay, so the PAPI lights for runway 21R are out of service. I don’t use PAPI lights. There’s going to be a laser light show at 0400 zulu 5 NM west of the such-and-such radial of the so-and-so VOR. I’m not flying that night. Taxiway Echo is closed from 1500 zulu through 2000 zulu. That’s on the other side of the airport from where I land. Get the idea?

We’re definitely not the only pilots who don’t read notams when we should. Last week, when I flew down to Glendale for my first Thunderbird meeting, I couldn’t get the ATIS. I just included the words “negative ATIS” when I called into the controller and he gave me the airport condition information. But when another pilot specifically asked the tower for the ATIS frequency, assuming that what he had was wrong, the tower told him the ATIS had been notamed out since Sunday. Four days. Oops. And I can’t tell you the number of airplanes that tried to land at Glendale when the airport was closed that weekend for the Thunderbird event. Airport closures are always in notams.

But Boulder City taught Mike and me a good lesson: Always read the notams.

While we walked around Boulder City, taking in the sights, I asked Mike whether he would still have come to Boulder City if he knew about the event. He admitted that he might not have. He’s a relatively new pilot and sharing the sky around an airport with dozens of other pilots in an uncontrolled environment was not something he enjoyed. (It isn’t something I enjoy, either.)

We had lunch at the local golf club, then went back to the airport. By that time, it was just after noon and the aerobatics were starting up. A lot of formation flying and loops and rolls. We wandered around the ramp, looking at the helicopters and airplanes on display. There was a lot to see. We passed the EAA hangar and realized that not all EAA chapters are like Wickenburg’s. The Boulder City Chapter is young and active, full of pilots who fly more often than just enough to keep current with the FAA. I ran into a few more helicopter pilots I knew and made some inquiries about getting stick time in a Brantly.

When the airplane aerobatics were over, the RC aircraft aerobatics started. One excellent RC aircraft pilot did tricks I’d never seen before. Excellent demonstration.

(You know, Wickenburg could learn a lot about putting on an airport event if it got advice from folks who know how to do it. Or maybe if they talked to a few real pilots about it and get them involved. But that’s just a thought. I’m sure Wickenburg will continue to do the same old airport car show and advertise with its tired old flyer every year.)

The airport reopened for traffic and Mike and I headed out. It was an uneventful flight back, mostly along route 93. For some reason, we still had a little headwind. We landed at Wickenburg at 4:30 PM local time. We’d spent more time out than we’d originally planned, but we’d had a great time.

Yes, I did say we. Even I had a good time on an airplane trip.

NaNoWriMo ’05

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Maria Speaks Episode 17: NaNoWriMo.

My comments about the National Novel Writing Month project and the NaNoWriMo ’05 Podcast by Darusha Wehm.

Transcript:

Hi, I’m Maria Langer. Welcome to Maria Speaks Episode 17: NaNoWriMo

I’ve been listening to the NaNoWriMo 05 Podcast by Darusha Wehm. And I’m really sorry if I just mangled her name.

NaNoWriMo — that’s capital N – A – capital N – O – capital W – R – I capital M – O — is short for National Novel Writing Month. The idea is new to me. The goal appears to be to write a 50,000 word novel during the period of November 1 through November 30. It’s an interesting idea, a sort of forced deadline for procrastinators who don’t have an editor reminding them of a deadline as it approaches.

I subscribed to Darusha’s podcast to learn more. You can subscribe, too, at nanorwrimopodcast.blogspot.com. I’ve found that after each episode, I have some comments I’d like to add. That’s what this podcast is all about. I’ll record it and send it to Darusha and she can decide what she wants to do with it. She did, after all, ask for comments in MP3 format. I’m not sure if she expected them from such a cynical realist. But I’ll try to behave myself and be gentle with everyone listening.

First, let me tell Darusha’s listeners a little about me. I write for a living and have been doing so since 1992. That means I write stuff and I get paid for it. I’ve had over 60 books and literally hundreds of articles published in the past fifteen years.

I mostly write computer how-to books and articles. I make a good living doing what I do, but there’s no rest for the weary. Every time a new version of a software product I’ve written about comes out, I have to hit the keyboard to revise my book. I don’t earn royalties on out-of-print books, and most of my books have gone out of print. After all, the average life of a computer book is 12 to 18 months.

I’ve worked on a number of novels over the years but have never finished one. I think it’s because deep down inside, I fear the rejection of something that’s near and dear to my heart. You see, fiction comes from your imagination and soul. Having an editor say he won’t publish it might hurt. Having an editor turn down a new computer book title, on the other hand, doesn’t faze me in the least because there’s so little of me wrapped up in it.

Maybe I need NaNoWriMo to get my latest work in process novel done. I don’t know. I have some thoughts about the 50,000 words in a month deadline that I’ll get to later on in these comments.

And now my comments about things I’ve heard on Darusha’s podcast.

NaNoWriMo gear?

Darusha mentioned that you can buy NaNoWriMo gear on the NaNoWriMo Web site. That raised a flag. And I may as well start these comments with a bang by pissing off some people.

I visited the nanowrimo.org Web site and maybe I’m just dense, but I don’t understand why they need to raise $110,000. I’m also trying to understand why would-be novelists should be so interested in building children’s libraries in Laos. I’m not trying to say that children’s libraries aren’t a worthy cause. But why do NaNoWriMo writers need to support it? And why not support libraries in their own countries?

Okay, so I’m a cynic. It’s hard not to be one when you’re born and raised in the New York City metro area. It just seems to me that the NaNoWriMo gear you can buy at the Web site does more to serve the people selling it than the people buying it.

You want to write a novel in a month? Do you really need a t-shirt to do it? I don’t think so.

And who are the people running the NaNoWriMo web site anyway? It looks to me like some kind of scam to get wanna-be novelists to fund annual vacations for a bunch of Web programming geeks. There’s no indication on the Web site of any real writing organization behind it.

Sorry.

Supporters

Darusha’s episode 3 talked about the importance of supporters. I couldn’t agree more. And I have some comments to add.

I agree that you cannot write a novel or anything else in your spare time without the complete support of your significant other or family. If you just require support for this one month, it’s easy. Ask for it. Explain how important it is to you. Make them understand that by supporting you, they’re helping you achieve your goal. When you achieve your goal with their help, it’s a team effort. But the ball is in your court: if you get the support you need, it’s your responsibility to succeed. Failure would let down everyone and make it just a little tougher for them to support you next year.

Remember, you can’t completely neglect your responsibilities. Do your best to fit your regular chores into your schedule. Rearrange your schedule if you have to, if you can. Just make sure you fit in the things you absolutely must do — like have dinner with your family or go to work — with enough time to get your writing quota done each day.

If you’re trying to write a novel outside of the NaNoWriMo one-month deadline, getting long-term support from your significant other and family might be a little more difficult. One word of advice: be reasonable. Locking yourself up in a room every evening or morning or whatever and neglecting your responsibilities because you’re writing a novel month after month, year after year is just plain irresponsible and stupid. Don’t do that to the people you love. Don’t do it to yourself. Make a deadline and stick to it. And take off enough time during the writing process to keep your life alive.

Novel writing software

Episode 4 talked about tools. Darusha specifically mentioned the phrase “novel writing software.”

I’m sorry, but isn’t any decent word processor an appropriate tool for writing a novel?

This reminds me of an e-mail I got from a guy who wanted to start writing computer how-to books. He asked me to recommend some book proposal software. I told him to try Microsoft Word. That’s what I use and it hasn’t failed me yet.

Here’s the point. There’s no special software that’ll make you a better writer — unless it comes with a creative writing teacher who can critique your work and offer tips for making it better. You can fool around with writing software all you like and it all comes down to your own capabilities. Either you can write or you can’t. Either you have a good idea that you can form into an interesting plot or you can’t. Either you can write realistic dialog and good descriptive prose or you can’t.

That’s not to say that you can’t get better. The best way to be a better writer is to read more, write more, and listen to feedback about your work by people who know what they’re talking about. That doesn’t include your spouse, aunt Tillie, mother, or fellow writing club member — unless one of these people has already had his or her fiction published or works in the industry.

But novel writing software? I looked at CopyWrite, the software package Darusha suggested. It doesn’t look like something you could pick up and start using effectively without a lot of experimentation. So don’t run out and start playing with it now, especially with the NaNoWriMo clock ticking. Use your favorite word processor to write. It has a word count feature built in. And take notes on index cards. Big ones or small ones — your choice. They’re easy to sort, modify, and read. That’ll help make your downtime — like the time you might spend on a bus or train on your way to work or the time you spend at lunch — more productive.

And that brings up something else. Writing a novel is more than just typing words 2 to 4 hours a day until you’re done. It’s planning and plotting. It’s creating backstories for your characters so they’re real. It’s including little details that make your work come alive. When you’re not sitting at your desk, typing away to meet your NaNoWriMo deadline, open your eyes and look around you. Take notes about what you see. Use the index cards. You can put them in your purse or a jacket pocket. Make the most out of all your time, not just the predefined writing time you’ve set aside for this project.

NaNoWriMo forums

Darusha’s Tools podcast also mentioned the NaNoWriMo forums. I visited those on the Web site, too. And here’s my sad report: There are literally hundreds of thousands of posts. My question: why aren’t these people working on their novels? I know from experience that fooling around on the Internet is a great way to procrastinate. Cut it out! Get to work!

If you feel you absolutely must participate in these forums, set a time limit for yourself each day. Something like 15 minutes. Remember, if you type 50 words a minute — which is probably pretty average for someone who actively participates in Internet forums, in those 15 minutes, you could have typed 750 words in your novel. If you wasted an hour in a forum, that hour could have been spent meeting your word count quota for the day.

The good thing about podcasts is that you can listen to them while you’re doing something else. Like driving the car, taking a shower, or working out. So if you must get an Internet fix, do it with podcasts. That’s another way to make the most out of down time.

Backup plan

Darusha also talks about having a backup plan — that is, a plan to backup your novel files. This should be a no-brainer, but I’m sure it isn’t. Most people probably don’t even think of backing up important files — until those files have been wiped out by a hard disk crash, virus, or fire.

Back up your important files. Period. It doesn’t matter what kind of files they are: accounting records, contact databases, or word processing files containing your novel. If you’ll miss it when it’s gone, back it up so you won’t lose it.

Darusha makes some good suggestions for backing up. The main idea is to have an offsite backup. That means backing up on a computer or other device that isn’t sitting right next to the computer where the data lives and breathes. What good is copying your important files to a CD once a week if you store the CD next to your computer? When the burglar steals the computer, don’t you think he might take the disks with him? When the fire breaks out because your superfast, undercooled computer processor got too hot for its own good, don’t you think everything around the computer will burn, too?

Okay, so it isn’t likely. But it is possible.

It’s odd because I was sitting at my desk finishing up for the day while I was listening to Darusha’s podcast in iTunes. Just as she was talking about backing up, I was setting up a folder on my publisher’s FTP server to back up my current work in progress. That folder is accessible by me, both of my editors, and my indexer. I made sure my editors knew why it was there. You see, I’m also a helicopter pilot and there’s always the possibility that I might not match successful landings to take-offs. If something happens to me, I want my editors to be able to get someone else to finish the job without reinventing the wheel.

Check with your ISP. Chances are, you have space on your ISP’s server for your own Web site or something like that. Use that to back up your important files. All of them.

Well, that brings me through Episode 4 and I’ve already said nearly 2,000 words. (Hmmm, if I were writing this for NaNoWriMo, I’d already have my quota met for the day.) But I do have one more thing to say, and that’s about the whole idea of NaNoWriMo.

If you’re participating in NaNoWriMo because you see it as a great way to meet the challenge of writing a novel before a specific deadline, great. You must know what goes into writing a novel and see that it’s more than just the challenge of getting words down so they can be read.

But if you’re participating just to see if you can write 50,000 words in a month, stop and think about it. Are you writing 50,000 words that someone else might want to read? In other words, are you crafting a novel or doing what 100 monkeys at keyboards could do?

My point is this: if you want to be a novelist, it takes more than just saying you’re one and typing 50,000 words as a way to prove it. It takes planning, creative genius, writing skill, and a lot of hard work. NaNoWriMo is one way to see if you can meet deadlines. But there’s more to being a novelist than meeting a deadline.

Do I think it’s possible to write a publishable novel in a month. Yes. The people who do it regularly are referred to in the industry as hacks.

Heck, I’ve been referred to as a hack. But there’s something magic about seeing your name on the cover of a book in a bookstore. Even after the 60th time.

Good luck!

131 Passengers

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Maria Speaks Episode 16: 131 Passengers.

This episode is straight from my blog, Maria’s WebLog. It discusses how I spent the last weekend in October. It wasn’t a typical weekend.

Transcript:

It all started during a conversation with Tom at Gold Coast Helicopters in Glendale about 10 days ago. He mentioned that they were going to be giving helicopter rides at the Thunderbird Balloon and Air Classic. That’s a huge annual event that includes balloons, warbirds, aerobatics, rides for the kids, and all kind of vendors. The event usually draws over 100,000 people and it lasts from Friday afternoon through Sunday afternoon.

“You flying the JetRanger?” I asked.

“No, just the R22.”

An R22, as you may know, is a 2-place helicopter. I owned one for about four years. It’s a great little helicopter, but it has one big drawback: it can only accommodate one passenger. That’s the main reason I sold mine and bought an R44, which can accommodate three passengers.

“You’re going to lose a lot of business to couples and families who want to ride together,” I warned, knowing this firsthand. It was a frustration I used to deal with regularly.

What followed was me suggesting that I bring my R44 down and fly with them to take groups of 2 or 3 passengers. I had already tentatively planned to spend Saturday of that weekend in Congress, doing rides at the Trading Post there. But that was tentative and could be easily changed. Tom and I talked money and decided on a reasonable number. Then he told me he’d ask Bill (the owner) and get back to me.

He called the next day. I was up at Howard Mesa, waiting for the gas guys to arrive, and my cell phone battery was getting low. So we kept it short. Bill had said yes. I should come down and meet with them Thursday before the show.

I flew down to Glendale on Thursday and met Tom face to face for the first time. He let me fly their R22 to the other side of the ramp to reposition it — the first time I was at the controls of an R22 in nearly a year. (I didn’t embarrass myself.) We talked business. We talked people in the business. We knew a lot of the same people and a lot of the same stories that went with them.

He told me to come back on Friday for a meeting at 1 PM. The air show was starting that afternoon. I should tell the controller I was with the show. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t let me land on the ramp.

I was back the next day with my banners and signs and scale. I wasn’t sure what the GC guys had, so I brought along some of my gear. I had two yellow banners that said “Helicopter Rides” in big letters and some plastic signs that said “Helicopter Rides Today.” I also had my original A-frame sign that said “Helicopter Rides” with an arrow on both sides. I didn’t bring the flags.

I didn’t need the flags. GC had an excellent location for selling tickets. Their JetRanger and their other R22 was parked right in front of the terminal on the ramp. They had an EZ-Up set up between them with a table. My yellow banners decorated two sides of the EZ-UP and my A-frame sign went out in the aisle between booths, pointing in. It was a nice setup.

The airport was packed with other static displays of aircraft, as well as booths for food, aviation-related items, and a few simple rides for the kids. On the north end of the ramp was a parking area for the warbirds that would be participating in the air show. Beyond that was a ramp where 2 F-16s waited for their turn to fly.

There was some confusion, at first, over where we would base the helicopters. The place we thought we’d use was inside “the box” — the area set aside for aerobatics use. But we hopped in Tom’s car and drove around the airport, looking for another place. We found four. The best of the possibilities was right next to the F-16s. We went back and asked all the necessary people — five of them, I think — if it was okay to operate there. Then we talked to the Air Boss, who would be running the show while the airport was closed to traffic, and told him what we’d do. He assigned us call signs of Ride-Hopper-One (me) and Ride-Hopper-Two (the R22) and told us all he wanted to know was when we were departing and when we were returning. “Otherwise, I don’t want to hear anything from you.”

F-16sWe had no problem with that. I repositioned my helicopter to the north end of the ramp and set it down beside the two F-16s.

Heritage FlightThe airport closed at 3 PM and the Air Boss took over. A bunch of the performers took turns practicing their routines. It was mostly aerobatic stuff. The kind of flying that makes you wonder why people think helicopter pilots are crazy. These guys, purposely inverting their aircraft and letting it go out of control in tumbling dives are the ones who are crazy. But it was pretty cool to watch, as long as you didn’t try to think yourself into the cockpit. There was also a bunch of tight formation flying, including a flight with the F-16 and two other fighters: the Heritage Flight. (Not a bad shot with my new camera, huh?)

The gates opened to the public at 4 PM.

I did two flights that afternoon with 2 passengers each. The route was about 12 miles round trip. I’d take off from the ramp and follow the power lines between the Glendale and Luke airspaces. Then I’d either go northwest along Grand Avenue to Bell Road or continue north toward Sun City (which is laid out in a bunch of circles that look pretty cool from the air). Then I’d loop around to the right or left and come back pretty much the same way I’d left. The ride ranged from 8 to 12 minutes. GC helicopters was selling them for $45 per person, which I thought was a little high. (I was eventually proved wrong.)

We did rides while the air show was going on. Since we never crossed into the performance area, there was no danger. It was really weird to see a performer’s smoke trail on the return flight to the airport. We also did rides during the brief period when they reopened the airport to regular traffic. One time, on the second day, the Spitfire, which had to make a right traffic pattern during performances, flew over us. My passengers loved it. Late that afternoon, the GC guys brought their R22 over and I think they did a bunch of rides, too.

Balloon GlowThen the sun set and the balloon pilots started setting up for the big evening event: the desert glow. By 6:30, 19 balloons were floating right over the taxiway, using their burners to light up the night. The ramp was open to the public and thousands of people were wandering around right beneath the massive envelopes. It was magic.

I flew home in the dark, disappointed by the amount of work I’d done. Four passengers was not enough to even cover my transportation costs.

The next day — Saturday, October 29 — was distinctly different. Mike and I blew out of Wickenburg at 5:30 AM to arrive at the airport by 6 AM. It was dark in Wickenburg — especially dark since a power outage had affected the airport and none of the lights there worked. But I took off into the dark and soon saw the glow of Phoenix ahead. At 6 AM, I was three miles outside of Glendale. I made a radio call, which was answered by airport management. They told me the airport was closed. I told them I was part of the show. They told me to use caution when I landed.

I set down between the R22 and 2 F-16s again. The rent-a-cop the Air Force had hired to watch their birds overnight was standing exactly where he’d been the night before.

The balloons were already inflating for their morning flights. This was when the balloon owners actually made money — they sold hour-long rides as part of the show. Mike and I had taken a balloon ride back in New Jersey at an event like this years ago. It was expensive but something everyone should experience at least once.

Balloon ClassicI started flying at 7 AM, when the balloons were just lifting off. They drifted to the west-northwest, toward Luke Air Force Base. My pattern was a bit more north, so although I flew between a few of them, most of them were to my south. The view on the return part of our loop was incredible — dozens of balloons hanging in the early morning sky.

I flew on and off throughout the morning. The R22 did, too. Then somewhere around the middle of the day, things got busy. I flew nonstop for several hours, taking a break for fuel and another break when the F-16s flew. (For some reason, they didn’t want us in the air while the F-16 were flying.) Just after sunset, after finishing my last ride for the day, I consulted the tiny notebook where I’d been ticking off the passengers. 84 passengers. Wow.

I had a little excitement just after that last ride. The show had included a pair of rocket powered cars that sped down the runway, drag-strip style. I was still in the helicopter, listening to the radio, when someone told the Air Boss that one of the rocket cars had gone off the runway. The Air Boss acknowledged his words, but said nothing else. The other guy came back and said, “Well, can’t you send someone down there to make sure he’s alright?”

“I have no one to send,” the Air Boss replied.

“Ride-Hopper-One is spinning with no passengers,” I said. “Do you want me to go down and take a look?”

“Could you do that?” the Air Boss replied.

“Will do.”

I took off and sped down the taxiway while thousands of spectators watched me. It was dark and my navigation lights and landing lights were on. I probably looked like a blur of lights to them. I got down to the end of the runway around the same time as a pickup truck. The rocket car was pointed on an angle to the extended centerline, about 100 feet past the end of the runway. It was upright. Someone who looked like he could have been the driver was walking around. I reported all this to the Air Boss, along with the information that the pickup truck was there to help.

“We’re sending a fire truck down there,” the Air Boss said over the radio.

I started back along the runway. “The car is upright and there’s no smoke or flames,” I added.

I came back to my parking space on the ramp, set down, and shut down.

Mike and I watched the balloon glow together, walking among the balloons. It was still going on when we climbed back into Zero-Mike-Lima and went home. The next day, we arrived at the airport at 7 AM. Some of the balloons were already lifting off. The day got off to a slow start for us. But by 11 AM, we were cranking. I flew nonstop for several hours, then sent in the word that I was getting seriously tired and that they should stop selling tickets. By the time I finished at about 2 PM, I’d flown another 43 passengers.

I should say here that two things really amazed me. One was that folks thought nothing of spending $45 per person to take every member of the family for a ride. Mike thinks at least a dozen of the people I flew were kids under the age of 5. How many of those kids will remember the ride? A bunch of them were really excited and happy. One little red-headed boy had a smile bigger than the Cheshire Cat’s. I’m so accustomed to people balking at $30 or $32 per person for a flight that the idea of them lining up to spend $45 on multiple family members really surprised me.

The other thing that amazed me is how good kids are at buckling their seat belts. I don’t have kids and never had. I don’t spend much time at all with kids. But every once in a while, Mike would sit a kid in the front seat beside me for a flight. I’d tell him (they were mostly boys) to reach over and get his seat belt. He’d immediately locate the buckle (not just the strap), adjust it in the strap, and fasten it. Kids did this better than adults! I even watched one sharp 6-year-old untwist the belt before buckling it. Mike says it’s because kids that age are geniuses. They absorb everything they’re taught. I wish they could stay that way.

We managed to escape from Glendale right before one of the F-16s fired up for its part of the show. I called the Air Boss as I hovered into position for departure. “Ride-Hopper-One departing to the northwest.”

“Ride-Hopper-One, proceed as requested. This will probably be your last flight until the F-16 lands.”

“This is my last flight for the day,” I told him. “I’m going home. You guys have been great. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” the Air Boss replied.

On my way back to Wickenburg, I pointed out the small herd of bison I’d spotted in a pasture less than a mile from Glendale Airport.

There Are Billions of Stars

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I know because I look at them.

Last night, after a busy day that included 2 hours of physical therapy for my shoulder and six hours in the office polishing off two chapters of my upcoming QuickBooks book revision, I came home and spent some quality time on the back patio, just hanging out.

Lately, when I get home, I retire to the room we call the Library. It’s the second guest room, the one with the futon and the desk and a whole bunch of books. I sit at the desk and type what I like to think are words of wisdom into my PowerBook. Sometimes it’s the novel I’m working on. Other times, it’s a blog post. Still other times, it’s e-mail to friends. And once in a while, when I have question, I’ll surf to find the answer online.

But last night I decided to celebrate my first full day without painkillers. You see, I did something to my shoulder/neck last week and things came to a head on Sunday. I was in so much pain, I went to the hospital emergency room. The doctor there told me I had a pinched nerve and gave me a few prescriptions. The prescriptions helped me sleep, which did more to make me feel better than anything else.

Of course, when you’re on painkillers, you can’t drink. Not if you want to keep your brain matter in decent condition. I’m not a big drinker, but I do enjoy a glass of red wine in the evening, with dinner.

Last night I opened a fresh bottle and had my first glass of wine in nearly a week. Ah. And what better place to sip it than on the back patio, watching the sun set?

And while I was at it, why not hook up my new iPod to the stereo speakers Mike put out there? And play some nice native American flute music? Some R. Carlos Nakai, perhaps?

So that’s what I did. Instead of cooping myself up in the library and not even noticing the day’s end and the evening’s start, I went outside to experience it firsthand, with a peaceful soundtrack of flutes and chanting and, later, crickets.

The sunset was not terribly impressive. It usually isn’t when there aren’t any clouds to illuminate from below. But the sky went through its usual ritual of changing colors. Venus was bright, high in the sky — the first star of the night. Then, as the light faded away, the stars came out, one by one. More stars than a city slicker could imagine. And beyond them, the glow of the Milky Way.

We see the Milky Way almost every night here. It isn’t a big deal. But I remember living in the suburbs near New York City. With all that ambient light, it was tough to see the stars at all. But here, out beyond the lighted streets, beyond the end of the pavement, tucked behind a hill that blocks the glow of Phoenix, we can see every star of the Milky Way. It’s a glowing band, a flowing path of densely packed stars.

We used to pull out our telescope once in a while and look into the Milky Way’s depths. If you’ve never seen it for yourself, you just can’t imagine. The entire lens filled with more stars than you can comprehend.

I watched a handful of airplanes, off in the distance, flashing their lights as they sped through the night sky. I remembered the night of September 11, 2001, when there weren’t any planes in the sky. We’d sat outside together that night, Mike and I, still shell-shocked by the events of the day. But it was the absence of airplanes at night that really put things into perspective for us. We — the American people — were afraid to let the planes fly.

I thought for a while last night about the people in homes around us. It was after 7 PM and many people had probably finished dinner. What were they doing? Watching the stars? Or watching their televisions? Did they know what they were missing?

I remembered when I was a kid, growing up in northern New Jersey. I remember summer nights at my grandparent’s house. I remember stretching out on their thick lawn watching the sky, trying not to think of the night-crawlers wriggling around in the moist earth beneath me. There were street lights, but I remember seeing the Milky Way. I remember my grandfather pointing it out. I remember him explaining that the sun rose in the east and set in the west. And knowing, even when I was very young, which direction was east and which was west.

Do kids sit out at night with their parents or grandparents just looking at the night sky? Do they get their first astronomy lesson at home? Do they even know that the Milky Way is something other than a candy bar?

Things are different now. But I’m not convinced that they’re better. People seem more concerned with what they see on television and what goes on in the lives of the rich and famous than their own lives and families. Mike sees this firsthand. He goes to work and he hears his coworkers talking about the shows that were on television the night before. They try to get Mike involved in the conversation, but he has no clue what they’re talking about and wouldn’t care if he did. We haven’t tuned into a prime-time network television show since Seinfeld went off the air. We don’t need television escapes to keep our lives interesting.

Are you reading this? Scoffing at me because of my nose-up attitude toward television and television-based values? That’s okay. I forgive you. You probably don’t know any better.

But do this one day. Go outside in the early evening with your significant other and kids or dog. Find a dark and quiet spot. Settle down on the grass or a lawn chair. And just listen. Listen to the animals, the sound of the wind, the birds, the traffic in the distance. And look at the sky as it changes from evening to night. Look at the stars. Find the airplanes. If it’s dark enough, you’ll see some satellites, too. If you’ve got the kids along, tell them about the stars. Tell them the stories that you remember from your childhood. Or make something up, something special and meaningful. Ask them questions, make them tell you what they think about things. Make them think.

An evening away from the television can be magic if you let it.

At about 7:30 last night, Mike’s car turned the corner to come down the hill toward our house. But I wasn’t watching it. I was watching a shooting star as it sped past Venus and faded into the night.