I like to poke a bit of good-natured fun at Amazon, for doing things like being all jerky and offering coupons for people who scan items in someone else’s store, the buying it from Amazon, or for yanking books by people arguing with, or trying to patent reselling used electrons. I mainly do it because Amazon is such an enormous, fat, juicy target, of course.
But lately, between hiring folks with neo-nazi ties to keep German warehouse workers in line, and trying to gain control of the very “.book” domain itself, I think it is pretty clear that Jeff Bezos is just funnin’ us all. Which makes a certain amount of sense, I suppose. If you’ve got a massive organization bordering on monopsony that is somehow still not actually making any money, what else could it be for but a whacky joke machine?
Either that, or it is simply there to create the resources that can be used to track down historic rocket engines.

It may be immediately obvious that
From
All writers are used to rejection (either that or they are dangerously off-balance, sitting in their garrets and muttering about all the people who don’t understand their genius). But I’ve noticed something interesting, lately. Out of all the writers I know who have a fair number of short stories out on the street at the same time (let’s say half a dozen), all of us have had multiple days with two or even three rejections coming within hours of each other.
But I realized that while many of us seem to experience these triple rejection days, none of us seem to have them on the same day. That kind of messes up my rejection party theory, so I have a new one. Now I’m pretty sure that the editors of magazines simply store up their rejections as they happen, and coordinate with one another so as to send out as many to the same person on the same day as possible. So it is sort of like that scene in Saving Private Ryan where the women writing letters of condolence realize with mounting horror that one mother is about to get three letters. Except in this case that’s the sweet spot they’re aiming for. Why would they do this, you ask? I’m guessing that it is to break the spirit of as many writers as possible, so they give up and become editors.
As frequent readers know, I do make an effort to point folks towards
I’ve often argued that the market for fiction is kind of skewed, as markets go, by the number of people willing to write for nothing or close to it. This not only makes it difficult to break into the writing game, it can make life interesting for editors and the like. Imagine what life would be like if other fields were like this–if you could put the word out that you needed a plumber and 200 people would show up willing to fix your pipes for a pittance, only you had no way of knowing which ones knew anything about plumbing.
Now, obviously, square one is where you start. Everyone knows this, but irritatingly,
Ground zero, on the other hand, is not where something starts, it is where something explodes. So in a sense, it is an end point, not a start point. But even 9/11 has not stopped people from conflating it with square one. I’d sort of gotten used to this, until the other night when I heard someone use both phrases to mean the same thing in the space of thirty seconds. That just won’t stand.

Usually, of course, grammar disputes just result in grumpy people
I’m currently on the third book of a science fiction trilogy that has started to drag a bit for me, because we’re in a section involving military battles and things keep happening that make no damn sense. It is sci-fi, and not hard scie-fi, so to an extent one can get away with a hand wave and a muttering about “advanced technology”, but at some point internal consistency breaks down and there just seems to be no reason for the various antagonists in the war to do what they’re doing.