There’s been a little buzz lately about a new e-publishing concept called the Vook, a supposed marriage of video and text. If you believe all the press releases, the Vook is the future of publishing, the salvation of readers everywhere, and the best thing to happen for authors since the invention of movable type. Of course, if you believe press releases, you need a serious reality check.

I wanted to know what this “Vook” thing is about, and after reading several conflicting comments from reader/viewers I decided I’d check it our myself. Within minutes of that decision, I popped $4.99 to download a Vook to my iPhone.

I chose a Romance Novella as my test case, Promises by Jude Deveraux. As always, the App Store made it way too easy to drop five bucks on a whim. The download took a while—at 108MB, this is HUGE compared to most iPhone apps—but it installed without any complication or complaint.

The complaints began shortly after a quick look-see, when I went to the online Vook site and discovered that buying the iPhone edition gave me absolutely nothing if I wanted to read my purchase on the web-based platform. To evaluate the web version of the same book I’d just bought for my iPhone would cost me an additional $6.99. In a world where I can buy an e-book from Amazon and in moments I can read that book on my iPhone while Sharon reads the same book on her Kindle 2, I found that unacceptable and refused to play (or pay). That’s really a shame, because from what I’ve seen, the web-based platform is much more video-integrated and has more potential than the iPhone version. If someone from Vook would like to toss me a comp, I’ll be glad to take a separate look at the online platform–but the inability to read the same purchase on both platforms is a real deal-killer for me.

Exploring  Vook for iPhone

Unlike most of the other e-books I’ve read, Vooks are stand-alone applications (as opposed to reader apps that can select from a library of books). When you launch the app, it displays the lovely title screen shown above. It’s good that it’s a pretty screen, because unless you read the entire vook in one uninterrupted sitting, you’ll get to see this screen a lot. On my iPhone 3G, it takes around ten seconds of this screen before the app loads.

After the App loads, it presents a chapter listing and demonstrates what is, to me, a serious weakness. The Vook app can’t remember what you’ve read, the way virtually every other e-reader app can do. This is a major annoyance, particularly if you’re the type who likes to sneak in a page or three at slow traffic lights or while answering nature’s call. You can’t even fold down the corner of a virtual page.

Once a chapter is selected, the user enters the actual reading interface, a straightforward screen where all the usual iPhone finger movements work to change pages. Vook, however, does not support landscape mode. To view videos (which only play in landscape mode), the reader touches the play buttons when they appear.

Vook uses the built-in iPhone video player, which means leaving the reader to view video, then returning to the reader. The lack of video integration makes for a nasty roadbump that pulls the reader out of the story every time he or she views a video clip. That might be okay for non-fiction, but for fiction, it’s quite disruptive.

The Story: Promises by Jude Deveraux

Promises is a Romance Novella, and like most romances is horribly predictable. I found that disappointing. I expected a story written specifically for a new, cutting-edge platform to be a bit more creative, or even a little outside-the-box.

Promises is written in an omnipotent point of view, meaning that the narrator can see the thoughts, feelings, and reactions of every character in a scene. This isn’t the first romance I’ve read that does this; Nicolas Sparks comes to mind as another best-selling author who’s fond of this method. What I find interesting is that all the modern mentors who are molding the writers of next week spend a great deal of time spanking new writers for doing exactly the same thing (they call it “head-hopping”). I seldom read omnipotent POV, and when I do I find it annoying. I occasionally have to stop and go back a few lines because an abrupt head change has jarred me out of the story. Personally, I think it takes a lot more skill to tell a story one head at a time, but you may feel free to disagree.

The Text & Video Marriage

The big question with which I began this exploration concerned how the video content and story content would merge in a Vook. The video content was well-produced and highly creative, but when married to the text it not only didn’t enhance the story, it detracted from it. Every time I stopped reading to launch a video, it knocked me out of the story. While this may be less the case with the video more integrated into the text (such as the web version), I found another phenomenon: The video images sometimes conflicted with my own mental pictures. I’m a very visual reader (and writer), and I create my own visualizations of settings and characters. Frankly, mine are better than the filmmaker’s, because they’re mine. They reflect my thinking, life experience, and personal creativity. This was my greatest disappointment with the concept.

The Verdict

Pros:

• Pocket size
• Colorful and pretty
• Lots of potential for non-fiction application

Cons:

• No interplay of iPhone and web-based formats; you have to pay twice for the same product to use both readers. Vook claims it’s because the two use different selling platforms, but Amazon seems to have worked this out with the Kindle.
• No capability to bookmark last read page.
• Lack of video integration jars reader from story
• Videos pull reader out of the story and conflict with reader’s imagination

The Vook is an interesting concept, and I can see its application for non-fiction, particularly in how-to, travel, and history books. For fiction, it’s a flop. The web-based version may be better (I haven’t experienced it), with text and embedded video displayed on the same screen.

Hmm… text and embedded video on the same screen. Interesting idea.

I think Vook may have invented the web page.

I suppose it would have been appropriate for me to post about Father’s Day a little earlier than 7PM on Sunday, but frankly I didn’t plan on writing a Father’s Day blog post this year. Then two things happened to change my mind.

First, my Pastor read something from the pulpit this morning. Then, I stumbled on this great Father’s Day picture and just had to share it with y’all.

While the casual observer might think this hilarious photo is out of character with the rest of this post, in a weird and wonderful way the two go together like steaks and charcoal. I’m quite certain that when my daughter Sara sees this she’ll roar, because she and I have such similar senses of humor that we usually can just look at each other, instantly think of the same punch line, and burst into simultaneous laughter while everyone else is wondering what’s so funny.

Sara, who is now 30 years old and just finished her eighth year teaching German to elementary school kids, is fond of saying that she is a fascinating study of nature versus nurture. The interesting thing is that when people who know us learn we are a blended family they always assume she’s my blood and Sharon adopted her, when in fact it was I who adopted Sara on December 18, 1992.

Which brings us to the second part of this post, the part that happened first. This morning, my Pastor read something from the pulpit. I recognized the piece before the first sentence reached the back row—a 500 word essay Sara wrote last year when she nominated me for the Arkansas Baptist News Father of the Year award. Here is what she wrote, without a single jot or tittle edited by me:

Even though I’d read this before—more than once—I will admit to shedding humble tears. I am so very blessed, and so thankful for God’s amazing restoration and grace in my life, that I’ve found it difficult to find words to express myself. If you know me, you know that anything that can shut me up so effectively is a mighty big deal.

I love you, Sara. Thanks for a wonderful Father’s Day–and for the privilege of being your father.

Today is the day!

It’s here!

The big shutdown of Analog Television has arrived!

(Yawn.)

Okay, be honest: Are you ready for the digital television conversion?

Yeah, I thought you were.

Anyone who doesn’t know that by midnight tonight all full-power analog TV transmitters will be shut down has to be Amish—and I have it on good authority that the Amish are sick and tired of the DTV transition, too.

Still, on Wednesday of this week, the Nielsen Company released research showing that 2,8 million American households are “completely unready for the transition.” While 2.8 million might seem like a lot, it’s only 2.5% of TV-equipped households. After all those months of annoying crawls, PSA’s and special programs, can they still say “we didn’t know” with a straight face? Perhaps they’re waiting for President Obama to personally deliver and install their converter box.

One explanation for at least a part of that 2.5% is that Low Power TV (LPTV) stations aren’t required to shut down their analog signals yet, and some of those unconverted households might be in rural areas served only by LPTV. They could also be in larger markets but prefer to watch only their favorite LPTV channel. They could also be waiting for the change so they can claim discrimination. There are also those who believe those converter boxes are “the government trying to spy on us.” Seriously, I’ve heard people say that!

For me, there is a sad aspect of this historic day. People are so sick and tired of hearing about the DTV transition that they just want it to be over. Many have missed the great historical significance of the day, the great and honorable tradition that is being laid to rest. When the first round of analog shutdowns occurred here back in February, I watched some of them and was horribly disappointed. At the appointed time, they just flipped the switch. No ceremonial moment, no salute to the generations that brought television to this historic milestone. Just a quick cut to snow and a licensee who’s delighted to lose that chunk of the electric bill.

I wonder what the true poineers of television would have to say about this day?

Philo Farnsworth, the man who, at 13 years of age, conceived the concept of image scanning and reconstruction upon which analog TV is based, went on to develop the first working electronic television system. Farnsworth didn’t get the credit due him because he was an ethical man, a genius who didn’t have the deep pockets (or lack of integrity) of David Sarnoff’s RCA. When fellow inventors from RCA asked to tour his laboratory and see his device in operation, it never occurred to Farnsworth that they might illicitly copy some of his technological developments. Farnsworth and RCA spent years in court over those infringements, and eventually Farnsworth won.

Philo Farnsworth would be fascinated with the new technology. Ever the inventor, he’d be in it up to his eyeballs and be having a blast seeing it in action. He’d probably improve on it, too.

Another big name in early TV development was Dr. Vladimir Zworykin, a Russian-born scientist who worked for RCA and developed much of their early television technology (including the parts based on designs “acquired” from Farnsworth). I believe that Zworykin’s reaction to today’s television might be found in an interview some time after his retirement in 1954. What follows is not a transcript, but it’s mighty close:

Interviewer: “Of all the many inventions to your credit in the world of television, what invention gives you the most satisfaction?”

Zworykin (heavy Russian accent): “Da Svitch.”

Interviewer: “What?”

Zworykin: “Da Svitch.”

Interviewer: “I don’t understand.”

Zworykin: “You know, Da Svitch, so I can turn the damn think off.”

I hope those engineers who use “da svitch” today will do so with reverence and respect, because without Analog TV, the world would be a very different place today. Whether better or worse is a never-settled debate—but it would definitely be different.

Rest in Peace, Analog.

There are books you read.

There are books you devour.

Then, there are books that devour you. The ones that you can’t put down even when you do, characters and scenes so vivid your mind can’t focus on anything else. You can’t wait to open that cover again. Sneak in a chapter in the bathroom at work. Sneak in a page waiting for a red light, only putting it down when the guy behind you shouts obscenities while honking his horn. Sit up until the small hours of the morning, because you’re not going to sleep anyway—not until you’ve read the last page.

Beware! Exposure by Brandilyn Collins is one of those reader-devouring books. You can’t say you weren’t warned.

I downloaded Exposure to my Kindle for iPhone over the weekend, and started reading it analytically—one writer analyzing another writer’s work, looking for things I could learn and add to my craft toolbox. I’m not sure when it happened, but the last analytical thing I recall was not far into the book, commenting to Sharon that some of the chapters were really short. The next thing I knew, I was at Chapter 20 and I could smell the blood. And as much as I didn’t want to, I had to put it down for the night.

Yesterday, I was handed a golden reading opportunity. I had to babysit some tower climbers at one of my sites, and with that iPhone burning a hole through my side, I just had to read a chapter or two. Well, one more won’t hurt. They’re short, right? Somewhere around chapter 50, the crew interrupted me to deliver the data they had been sent up to gather. I dropped the iPhone in my truck’s charger, finished my business with the crew and spent a few minutes compiling the data while it was still fresh. Necessary tasks complete, quarter to five and an hour away from home. Time to hit the road.

A little voice called to me from my iPhone, charging in its cradle on my dashboard. I was in mid-chapter when reality interrupted. I needed to get to the chapter break so I could start clean when my next reading opportunity came.

Riiiiight.

An hour later, I finished the epilogue.

Brandilyn Collins’ “Seatbelt Suspense” branding is thoroughly appropriate. Exposure is a wild ride, full of surprises and multi-layered subtleties. I recall bursting into laughter at one thoroughly-not-funny point, struck by the hilarity of a particular word choice for that situation and the subtle layering that resulted. Exposure is a true suspense story with some dark and gruesome (but not vile and graphic) moments, but it is so much more. While I’m by no means going to reveal how the story ends, I will admit to you that at more than one point in the last couple of chapters I wept. Sitting in the driver’s seat of my big, honkin’ GMC pickup truck. At the bottom of a big, honkin’ radio tower. In the woods. In Jefferson, Arkansas. I’m really glad I had those paper towels with me.

The underlying theme—that comes through in every character in both overt and subtle ways—is the crippling effect of fear in our lives. If you’ve ever struggled with managing your fears (and who of us hasn’t?) you ought to read Exposure by Brandilyn Collins.

Let’s make this clear right up front: I am not a Mac basher. Whether your computing platform of choice is Windows, Mac OSX, or an ancient Radio Shack TRS-80, what’s important is that it be the platform that best fits you, best serves you, and best protects your interests. I even have close friends who don’t own a computer and don’t use the internet at all. Do what works for you.

What I’m not a fan of is deceptive advertising, particularly the kind that misleads people and could cause them harm. I understand that every ad is biased, but there’s a difference between saying “our car is safer” and saying “Our car is so safe you don’t need to wear a seat belt.” That’s one area where I have a problem with Apple and their advertising strategy. Their ads are biased, as you’d expect—but they are also deceptive. Take this recent example:

Cute, isn’t it? A brilliant piece of advertising propaganda. There’s just one small problem:

This ad is only half true, and Mac users who believe Apple is telling them the whole truth are setting themselves up for a nasty, eye-opening day of reckoning.

The “Macs are Immune” claim isn’t new. I had this debate 4 years ago with an avid Mac evangelist with great creative gifts but no technical background. Apple said it, he believes it, that settles it. Unfortunately, there are a lot of Mac users in that camp, good people without a lot of technical savvy who love their Macs and trust Mac’s maker to tell them the truth.

What urged me to write this entry is an alarming online comment I saw recently, posted by an intelligent and highly competent, tech-savvy CEO whom I hold in high regard. He was installing the recently-released Windows 7 Release Candidate on his Intel-based Mac using Parallels, a Virtual Machine application for Mac OSX. The red-flag phrase that caught my attention was his bemoaning the fact that he also had to install anti-virus software, since he’s installing Windows, “an OS that, unlike Mac, is vulnerable to viruses, spyware, and malware.” It’s the Apple company line, but I was surprised to hear it regurgitated by someone so well-informed. As an IT Professional, I have to tell you with all due respect that it’s simply not true.

Yes, unprotected PC’s are susceptible to viruses and malware, but unprotected Macs are just as susceptible. Any computer operating system is susceptible to such attacks, regardless of the operating system, if attackers have targeted that system.

There are fewer viruses and malware threats targeting MacOSX. That’s not surprising, since the goal of such threats is to infect as many machines as possible as quickly as possible. According to data released by Net Applications, as of May 2009 MacOS has a 9.81% share of the computing market, while Microsoft Windows still leads the pack with 87.75%. If you want to infect the largest number of machines and do the most damage, it only makes sense to target the operating system used by the largest number of people.

Macs by no means have automatic immunity. There are, and have been since 2006, active viruses and malware threats in the wild targeting MacOSX. Apple routinely generates security updates (patches to fix security flaws) for its products, just like Microsoft does. Apple just doesn’t like to talk about it as openly. Apple’s market share is slowly creeping upwards, and as it grows the likelihood of Mac-targeted attacks will grow as well. If you’re relying on that Apple logo to protect you, you’re in for a rude awakening one of these days.

I’m by no means a Microsoft evangelist. My day job includes technical management of around 200 machines in a broadcasting facility, and all but one use Microsoft Windows (a mix of Windows 2000, 2000 Server, XP Pro, and 2003 Server. The one non-Windows box is SCO Unix). I’m quite familiar with Microsoft’s shortfalls. There is no such thing as a perfect computer with perfect software and a perfect operating system. I have great respect for Apple’s OSX. Underneath that well-crafted user interface, OSX is based on BSD Unix, one of the world’s oldest and most revered computer operating systems. If Apple sold it as a stand-alone product to run on non-Apple hardware, I’d buy it—but I’d protect it with good antivirus software.

If you are a committed Mac lover, I’m glad you have something you love that works for you—after all, these things are tools, not life partners. The Apple logo on your computer is not an Immunity Idol. Protect yourself with the two things every computer should include: good anti-virus software, and good sense on the part of the user.

Whatever the operating system, remember that most security threats are basic gullibility tests. Be careful what you click!

We have covered patio behind our office building known as the Smoking Deck, so named because it is frequently inhabited by the tobacco addicts who work in our non-smoking building. It’s a simple structure; metal lap roofing on a framework of steel “C” channels, supported by posts at one end and the building on the other. Not fancy, but functional—and even non-smokers appreciate it as a staging area perfect for gathering one’s nerve before bolting across the parking lot to your car on rainy days.

About five years ago, we  acquired some new tenants on the Smoking Deck. A tribe of Barn Swallows moved in and set up housekeeping, having found the inside of those steel “C” channels to be a perfectly wonderful place to nest. We didn’t mind at first. Most of our folks, both smoking and non-smoking, found the little family a charming addition—until the day someone mentioned the possible health ramifications of all those bird droppings collecting on the concrete deck. After enough people complained to outweigh the bird-lover vote, we decided to encourage our little friends to nest elsewhere the following spring by removing their little mud nests after they had been vacated.

The following spring, the nests reappeared one day, in exactly the same locations, occupied by egg-sitting mama birds and guarded by a team of highly protective attack swallows. Over the protests of the anti-bird-poop coalition, I allowed the nests to remain until their purpose had been fulfilled and they were once again vacant. On that round of bird-bomb prevention, we installed heavy-gauge 1/4″ wire mesh over the open channels to prevent the birds from entering their nesting zone. Problem solved—or so I thought.

A year later, the Barn Swallows returned in force. One of the several resulting nests is pictured on the left. In exactly the same spots where they were born, the returnees built new mud nests using the 1/4″ wire mesh for support the way a plasterer uses wire lath. Birds three, humans zero.

No matter what we do, we can’t get rid of these blasted birds. After years of trying, I’ve officially surrendered. Those threatened by bird by-products are using either denial or a different door during bird season, and after the Barn Swallows complete their task and move on, we break out the pressure washer and thoroughly sanitize the concrete deck. It needs a little tar-and-nicotine scrub once in a while, anyway.

Shake, Rattle and Write.

The Barn Swallows remind me of the story of Elisha and Elijah in the Old Testament book of Second Kings.  The Prophet Elijah is about to be taken up into heaven, and Elisha is determined to be his successor. Elijah tried to shake him off three times, but each time Elisha stubbornly refused to be shaken. Three different groups of prophets tried to tell Elisha to give up, but he paid them no attention.

Moments away from being caught up to heaven in a whirlwind, Elijah asked Elisha if he had any last-minute requests. Elisha upped the stakes by asking for a double portion of Elijah’s prophetic spirit, to which Elijah replied, “Kid, do you have any idea what you’re asking for? You’re going to need a mighty big vision to get that.” (My paraphrase.)

Elisha still wouldn’t be shaken off, in spite of his mentor’s repeated attempts, his peer’s discouragement, and a goal grown larger than his wildest dreams. When his vision test came, he passed—and because he wouldn’t be shaken off, he became what he new God intended him to be all along: Elijah’s successor.

How does this apply to us as novelists? If there’s one thing I’ve learned on the road to publication, it’s that there are plenty of opportunities to be shaken off. Rejections. Critics. Discouragement. The interminable wait for what could be the world’s slowest moving industry at times.  We think we’ve had a breakthrough, take a giant step forward, then stand there for months unable to move a single inch further.  I used to think that selling my first novel would end the shaking. I’ve spoken with enough published novelists—even best-selling authors—to know better now. For most authors, the shaking never ends.

If that’s the case, why do we keep on writing?

We’re Barn Swallows. We’re Elishas. We’re Novelists. We write because we have to, because we need to get these stories out of our heads and onto the page. Try all ytou want, we won’t be shaken off. This isn’t just what we choose to do, it’s what we must do.

Published or unpublished, old pro or neophyte, here is a simple test you can take once and for all to determine if you’re a true novelist: Try to stop. Go ahead, I dare you. Take a month off. Try to live one full month of your life without seeing a situation and thinking, “Hey, I can use that in a story.” See if you can live for one month without hearing a unique name and envisioning a character with that name. See if you can go for a month without waking up at night with a storyline in your head. See if you can watch a movie or TV program without brainstorming story ideas, or commenting on a character’s development, or seeing flaws in the plot that make it implausible. See if you can go a whole month without writing one single word of fiction, whether in your head on on a page.

If you can really quit—if you can be shaken off—then by all means quit. You’re not a Novelist. If you can do something else, then do it with all your might.

If, however, you can’t quit no matter how hard you try, then welcome to the family. You’re a Novelist, a victim of the writing disease called Novelism. There’s only one known treatment: Write, Rewrite, Repeat.

For the record: I tried to quit, and I didn’t last a full day. How about you?

One of the artistic joys in my life is playing cornet in the Natural State Brass Band, an award-winning brass band in the British tradition. I’ve been a member of the band for about five and a half years, and have seen the band grow tremendously in musical quality and depth—and as a result, I’ve grown as well. Without a doubt, joining NSBB is the best thing I’ve ever done for myself as a musician.

Yesterday, NSBB was honored as the “Arkansan of the Week” by Little Rock TV station KATV, in recognition of the band’s recent victory, taking first place honors in the Challenge division at the 2009 North American Brass Band Association Championships.

Check out this video from yesterday’s KATV 5PM newscast. If you watch carefully, you might just spot my smiling face and shiny head in the back row of the cornet section.

Interested in attending an NSBB concert? We’re playing tomorrow afternoon at 4PM at Pulaski Heights United Methodist Church, 4823 Woodlawn Drive in Little Rock. Admission to this concert is free, so come on out and enjoy a great program from a band that’s done Arkansas proud!