In my effort to zero in on a world class heavy weight champion of a story, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, freewriting, staring blankly, bookshelf reorganizing, etc.

Then I came upon Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies deck. It’s a deck of cards he and Peter Schmidt created in 1975 as a means of solving creative problems. Basically, if you’re stuck, you pick a card out of the deck, read it, and see if it sends you anywhere useful.

Here are some examples and how they were (possibly) useful to me:

“Discover your formulas and abandon them.”

Of course, being an incredibly original writer of deep artistic integrity, I would never rely on anything so lowly as a formula to write novels. Formulas are for people who lack imagination.

Yeah right, my formulas were so obvious they practically jumped off the page and slapped me in the face. Basically I write about outsiders who are morally challenged by circumstances and who are dangerously susceptible to bad influences whom they mistake as positive role models. I won’t break it down for you by book, but trust me, all three novels (and the one I just finished) fit this description.

So what would happen if I abandoned this formula? Or more intriguingly, what would happen if I subverted this formula? I’d have to write about an insider who is inherently morally challenged and who meets a bad influence who turns out to be a positive role model.

So many possibilities.

Here’s another one from the Oblique Strategies Deck:

“What is the reality of the situation?”

Well, being equipped with the ability to see beyond the obvious into the meta-truths at the heart of our collective hallucination, the answer, which I typed furiously into my Between Novels Journal, was clear:

The world is on the cusp of a global economic breakdown leading potentially to widespread hunger, looting, and war. Or as someone once said (I was too lazy to google it) “any society is only three meals away from a revolution.” Also, the entrenched powerful are currently committed to preventing any rescue from this dire economic situation because they fear the loss of their power and money more than the collapse of civilization itself. They would rather cling to their power and money in a decaying, even apocalyptic world, than to cede anything to the underclass. This will not end well. For anyone.

Yeah, I think there may be a story in there.

Or not. Who knows.

Like many medical procedures, there’s a risk of infection, and when the procedure was done-obviously you open up the womb to outside instruments and other things when you have a surgery done. And unfortunately, as a result of that, several days after the surgery she-my wife had an infection in the uterus which caused her to go into labor. And the baby was delivered, and Gabriel was 21-plus weeks old and he was born alive. And he lived for two hours, and he was not old enough or well-developed enough to have survived beyond that. And so we gave comfort care to him for those two hours in which he lived.

It’s possible that the above represents the sum total of the story. It’s also possible, as others have claimed, that once the infection took hold, Senator Santorum and his wife elected to administer antibiotics in order to save her life, knowing that to do so was to bring on labor before the baby was viable outside the womb. In other words, Rick Santorum chose a procedure which would terminate his wife’s pregnancy in order to save her life.

Can you blame him?

Much has been made of the fact that the Santorums later brought the baby, which they named Gabriel, home so that their other children could see him and say good-bye. A mass was performed at their home, which Santorum believed would be more personal than sending his baby directly to a funeral home. I know that some people find this gruesome, but I completely understand it. Clearly, the Santorum’s loved this little baby and were heartbroken at his death. People cope with grief in a variety of ways and personally I have no trouble empathizing with the Santorums in this matter. I hope it gave them and their children some comfort to know that they took care of little Gabriel in the best way they could. And I hope that afterward they were surrounded by loving and empathetic family and friends who helped them mourn his passing.

But clearly empathy is not what Santorum took away from the experience. In fact it is the one thing that seems to be utterly lacking in Santorum’s public positioning on the subject of reproductive rights.

From the moment they discovered all was not right with the pregnancy, he and his wife had choices. They chose a risky surgery, which they knew would endanger their son’s life. Later, if the stories are true, they chose to administer antibiotics, which they knew would end his life. The fact that he was born alive and survived for 2 hours may provide them with some moral cover, but it in no way changes the fact that their choices–the risky surgery and (possibly) the application of antibiotics, caused their baby to be born before the age of viability.

Santorum claims that this experience is what solidified his across-the-board opposition to abortion. He has painted the incident as a demonstration of how a dyed-in-the-wool abortion opponent must inevitably act in the face of tragic circumstances. But this is hogwash. The Santorums could have chosen not to perform the surgery in the first place. The baby might have survived. They admit there was a chance he would have. They could additionally have chosen not to administer antibiotics, something Santorum’s wife, apparently, considered. They also could have chosen to terminate the pregnancy once they discovered the problem in the first place. The point is they had, and made, choices. They made the choices that made the most sense to them. Maybe you would have chosen differently. I think, given the same circumstances, I probably would have made the same choices. If anything, the Santorum’s experience is a demonstration of the dignity and compassion of choice. Biology can be cruel and capricious, thrusting us into horrifying choices we may feel ill-equipped to make. But make them we must. Sometimes they work out for the best, sometimes they don’t.

I believe the Santorums behaved with grace, dignity, and love under enormously tragic circumstances. And if they were a private couple minding their own business, I would leave it that. But they are a very public couple attempting to foist their absolutist reproductive philosphy on the rest of us. Therefore it is our responsibility to examine what they claim to be the foundation of this philosophy. The Santorums claim that their experience with little Gabriel bolstered beliefs they already had on the subject of reproductive rights. But I believe the experience was actually a direct challenge to their absolutist philosophy. I think they feel guilty for making choices that ultimately led to the death of their baby. And in response they have recast the experience–quite possibly with critical deletions–in order to nullify its guilt-causing components. They want, and perhaps need, to believe that they did everything they could to save their baby’s life and that they did nothing to hasten his demise. But the facts simply don’t line up this way.

To be clear, I do not believe the Santorums should feel guilty about the choices they made. They saved a mother’s life. But the fact of the matter is that simply by exerting their right to make choices which would lead to the premature delivery of their baby, they stepped way out of their pro-life comfort zone. And instead of being honest with themselves about it and allowing the experience to educate them on the bewildering and sometimes cruel nuances of pregnancy in the real world, they have bent the facts to their pre-conceived philosophy.

On a personal level, I can’t really fault them for doing this. It’s called cognitive disconnect and people do it all the time. It’s the reason why the segments of the population most vocally pro-life are the ones having the most abortions. It’s why the segments of the population most in favor of “family values” are the ones getting the most divorces. It’s human weakness, a tendency to bend reason to our emotional needs. I would let it go, were it not for the fact that Rick Santorum is running for president and wants to impose his absolutist philosophy on the entire nation!

I feel for him and his loss. I honestly do. But would it be asking too much for the man to step outside of his own worldview for a single moment to spare some empathy for the people whose tragic stories he can’t possibly know? Right now a husband is struggling with the same kinds of choices he had to make. Somewhere a woman is struggling with another tragic choice he couldn’t possibly understand. The absolutist pro-life philosophy only works in the abstract. When reality intrudes, a whole world of nuance opens up. This is why the most ardent anti-choicers sometimes find themselves making choices they once demonized and why the government has no place legislating such deeply personal decisions.

A little humility, Mr. Santorum. Some respect, please, for the families undergoing painful decisions right now. Some empathy for the women of this country who only want to know that if and when tragic circumstances arise, their fate will be determined by themselves and their loved ones, and not by an opportunistic politician trying to score points.

And incidentally, for what it’s worth, I think you behaved heroically in protecting your wife and I’m glad you had the choice.

But don’t worry if you missed it, because you can read the whole thing here. Or if you just want a recap of the highlights, our friends at Figment have provided that here.

And finally, you can read chapter samples of the latest books by Robin Wasserman, David Levithan, and yours truly here.

Well, there’s your morning settled. What are you going to do for the rest of the day?

Tylenol is available over the counter. It can kill you.

Plan B can’t kill you. But because of Kathleen Sibelius’ massive overreach, and in defiance of everything we know about its safety, it won’t be available over the counter to any one younger than 17.

Not because it’s dangerous. It isn’t. But because parents, notably our Commander in Chief in a burst of deluded paternalism, don’t like the idea of their younger-than-seventeen daughters engaging in sex-related decisions. It implies that sex has been had, and this is something we just can’t deal with.

I completely get this. I wouldn’t want my eleven-year-old daughter to buy Plan B without telling me. I wouldn’t want her to need Plan B without telling me. As a parent, I want my daughter to know that she can always come to me no matter what she’s done. And I’d like her wait a really really really long time before she has sex.

But guess what, parents, Plan B isn’t about you. It’s about the twelve-year-old girls who can’t go to their parents about the fact that they might be pregnant. It’s about the girls who might be pregnant by one of their parents. It’s about the girls whose parents would impose pregnancy and childbirth on them against their wills. To impose a restriction like this is an attempt to legislate a parent-daughter relationship that some girls will never have. You’re not helping these girls. All you’re doing is ensuring that even more of them will be pregnant now. Well done.

If you don’t want your daughter buying Plan B without you, engage with her. Make sure you’ve established a non-threatening open channel through which she can communicate with you about her sex life. But don’t pretend that every girl out there has the benefit of a parent like you. A lot of them don’t.

Until someone proves that Plan B is actually dangerous for girls younger than seventeen, there is no medical reason to restrict it. Note that a boy, of any age, can waltz in to a drug store and buy condoms, Robitusson, and cheap aftershave, which no doubt is the reason why some girls will wind up returning to the same drug store the next day to buy Plan B. You don’t hear anyone trying to move the condoms behind the counter, do you? Or the Robitusson? Or the aftershave? Of course not. That would be foolish.

I tend to be suspicious of new parenting trends. And there’s no reason to believe that “free range” parenting will turn out to be better than anything else on offer. When it comes to parenting, I’ve usually relied on two things 1) instinct 2) an admittedly non-scientific survey of my friends and family. Basically, if something worked for my brother and his kids, I’ll give it a go.

My daughter’s only 2 and a half, so there’s a limit to how “free range” she can be at this point. I’m not about to hand her a twenty then set her loose on the London Underground just yet. But there are certain moments when I’m torn between wanting to intervene and wanting to back off.

For example, when we’re at the playground, I find myself constantly on the ready to intervene if and when (usually when) she decides to hit or push someone. I’ve felt the eyes of angry parents whose kids have fallen victim to my daughter’s territorialism. I’ve actually been told off by a parent whose child Addie pushed while I wasn’t looking. So I always intervene now and I’m constantly on guard for the next incident. It’s made playground time a tense affair. I know she’s going to push someone. I just don’t know when. To be clear, Addie never pushes or hits very hard. No one’s ever been physically harmed by it. It’s more like a symbolic tap, her way of letting the kid know that she’s the boss and that the object in dispute (whether a ball, a doll, or the entire playground) belongs unequivocally to her. Do not ask me why she does this. I have no idea. Lots of other kids do it too. I think it’s a toddler thing. It doesn’t bother me if another toddler hits or pushes Addie. If she needs my help, she’ll come running. And she never does. When another toddler hits her, she tends to stand her ground, smirk slightly (I swear to God), and silently challenge the kid to try it again. She rarely even hits back. It’s almost as if the small show of aggression has earned her respect. Weird, I know. I’m trusting that this will all phase out and that she is not on deck to become a warlord.

The fact of the matter is that all toddler’s hit and push. Some do it more than others. They also bite, spit, and in one memorable case I can think of, they even punch ducks. I’m not saying we should encourage this behavior (especially vis a vis the duck, which honestly is just weird). But should I continue to swoop in the second her little hand makes contact to wave my finger in her face and solicit a forced and phony “I’m sorry?” It doesn’t seem to stop her. Should I carry some version of the naughty step with me every where I go? Addie likes the naughty step. She asks for it sometimes. I think she appreciates the peace and quiet.

So I guess my question is this: is it okay to go “free range” with your kids when they’re being semi-rotten to other kids? Or should we constantly intervene? Does leaving them to it allow kids (both the victims and the aggressors) to learn how to deal with each other, or is that the first step toward a Lord of the Flies dystopia? At what age can they learn the lesson that violence gets them nowhere?

Join my anecdotal circle, otherwise known as the Council of Wise Parents, and tell me what you think.

I know. Boo hoo, right?

I won’t ask anyone to shed a tear for these youngsters who still have plenty of time to rethink the trajectory of their professional lives. Besides, looked at one way, the recession is the best thing to happen to this generation of young, ambitious college grads. Without easy access to the lucrative field of magical fairy dust mortgage derivatives, they might actually do something meaningful with their lives.

But the article also forces me to poke a hole in what has become a bizarre misconception about bankers. According to the article, “Being young on Wall Street once meant having it all: style, smarts and too much money to spend wisely.”

I won’t dispute whether young bankers ever spent money unwisely. I’ve seen them plunk down hundred dollar bills for the privilege of having some surly waitress/struggling artist bring them a bottle of vodka and some juice then tell them to make their own drinks–a neat little nightlife mutation called “cracking a bottle” that was meant to allow bankers to feel elite while non-bankers deftly took their money.

But the idea that bankers are widely renowned for their “style” or “smarts,” is, at best, laughable. I lived in New York for twenty years. I knew lots of professionals, both in banking and out of it. Without question, the bankers were not the smartest knives in the drawer. Even most of the bankers I’ve known would confess to a widespread intellectual mediocrity among their peers. The smartest ones, hands down, were the scientists, artists, and teachers.

As for style? Please. Find one person, other than a banker, who emulates the way bankers dress. Oversized grey or navy blue suits? Come on. Find a tailor, gentlemen. And, as for the ladies? Meh. It’s impossible to look stylish when you’re enslaved to a dress code intended to evoke uniform dullness.

In terms of the cultural life of New York City, bankers contribute exactly one thing: money. That’s no small thing, mind you, and I’m sure quite a few bartenders, waiters, and restaurant owners (not to mention strippers, hookers, and drug dealers) can credit the financial industry with a large portion of their profits. But I can promise you that no New Yorker ever lined up to get into a restaurant because it was popular with bankers. No one ever sought out the latest, hippest bar that bankers frequented. If anything, the arrival of hordes of bankers meant it was time to move on to a new bar. I used to play this cat and mouse game with my friends in New York City at a revolving Happy Hour wherein bankers basically chased us from Tribeca to Alphabet City and beyond.

So, to the young college graduates now being evicted from the financial services sector, I have this to say: thank your lucky stars. As a banker, people would have gladly relieved you of your money in a variety of ways. They would have even allowed you to feel elite as they did so. But they would not have admired you in the process. They would not have emulated you or sought out your company. They would not have found you cool. So if you want to be more than a leaking wallet in the cultural life of New York, or any city, find a job that has some kind of intrinsic value.

And to the former Goldman Sachs analyst who claims that, in the wake of Occupy Wall Street, the banking industry has “lost its luster,” I say this:

It never had any to begin with.

Early complaints about the movement’s lack of specific demands is also falling away as an increasingly focused platform centering on economic justice comes into focus. Poll the former residents of Zuccotti Park or any of the other occupation sites and you’ll hear a variety of ideas, but the most common seem to be the following:

- Regulate banks in a way that disincentivizes the reckless gambling that puts all of us at risk.

- Tax investment returns at the same rate as income.

- Reform campaign finance laws so that we’re no longer being governed by Goldman Sachs.

Of course, there are other ideas, like making banks finance their own future bailouts through a financial transaction tax, but I think it’s fairly easy to see the big idea at the heart of the movement: American capitalism and democracy are broken. The big difference between Occupy Wall Street and The Tea Party is that the latter sees the government as the big evil, whereas the former fingers a reckless and under-regulated banking industry that has captured our government and bent it to its will.

So here’s the question: do we still need a physical occupation? I think not. In the beginning, the physical presence of so many people submitting to harsh living conditions out of an idealistic commitment to a fairer, more just world was inspirational, so inspirational that it created imitators across the country and beyond. But the message is out now. And Zuccotti Park had begun attracting people who were not helping the cause–the homeless, the inarticulate, the multiply-buttoned radicals. It’s important to prevent these physical sites from becoming convenient flashpoints for ideological opponents eager to paint the movement itself as a kind of lifestyle choice for weirdoes. The best thing OWS can do now is to avoid making that easier for them. Absent the physical presence, the ideas themselves can disperse and thrive without the distractions of bad press.

As many of the occupiers have said, “we are the ones we’ve been waiting for.” The occupation was the rallying cry. It worked. And the commitment of those early occupiers should not be underestimated. But now it’s time to get to work on actually creating that fairer and more just world.

TAMORA PIERCE – Mastiff
JOHN CONNOLLY – The Infernals
RAE CARSON – The Girl of Fire and Thorns
MATTHEW CODY – The Dead Gentleman
DELIA SHERMAN – The Freedom Maze
LEANNA RENEE HIEBER – Darker Still: A Novel Of Magic Most Foul

I know Delia personally, and she’s wonderful. I also read recently with Leanna Renee Hieber and she’s a laugh riot.

Time: 1PM
Location: 18 West 18th Street (between 5th Avenue and 6th Avenue)

Come for the readings. Stay for the cupcakes!

NOTE: I previously listed this reading as being at 3PM because I am very dim at times. It’s at 1PM.

As many of you already know, the NYPD has been constructing a major surveillance initiative aimed primarily at the financial district but now spreading to mid-town. Footage from surveillance cameras all over the Wall Street area is being processed in a centralized unit using state of the art face and gait recognition software. With this technology, New York City Police offers can track a suspect (or an OWS protester, for example) from one camera’s range to another, compare his or her face with an already existing database of potentially dangerous individuals (or peaceful protesters), and link it up with whatever other information it has already gathered on the suspect/innocent civilian.

Ok. Let’s just say we want to make an argument in favor of this type of spying for the sake of security. As Mayor Bloomberg recently said: “As the world gets more dangerous, people are willing to have infringements on their personal freedoms that they would not before.”

I’m not going to argue with this opinion right now, because I’m more concerned with another detail of this program, namely the fact that the NYPD has reserved space in this central processing station for high level employees of Goldman Sachs and Citigroup.

Yes you read that right. Goldman Sachs and Citigroup are watching you, with the courteous help of the NYPD.

Let me state for the record as a US citizen and occasional pedestrian in the Wall Street area, I do not give Goldman Sachs or Citigroup permission to spy on me. Ever. Whatever bargain Americans are willing to make for the sake of security, I’m pretty sure the vast majority are not willing to hand over their privacy to the likes of Goldman Sachs and Citigroup.