Last December, I did a Toastmasters speech about setting goals, and I thought, as the year winds down to a conclusion--and won't we be glad to see the back of it?--that I would reprise this entry from last year and expand upon it a little.
To recap that post, a goal has three parts, and those parts can be equated to the making a sandwich.
First, you set a goal. This is equivalent to deciding you are hungry and NEED a sandwich.
Now, you may not NEED to set a goal, but if you WANT to focus your efforts, it is where you start. You can see from that earlier post that my goal in 2015 was to submit something everyday for the year. In 2016, it was to make $5000.
Your goal can be simpler: write 100 words a day; submit to 5 new markets; find a writing group.
Or, it can be even more ambitious: get a New York publishing contract; land an agent; write 5000 words a day.
The important thing is to set a goal in the first place.
Secondly, you work to make that goal happen. Make the sandwich.
It was hard work to make that submission a day goal a reality--but I did it. In fact, I actually made over 400 submissions that year. Some days, it was a tiny submission--like a haiku sent to Haikuniverse. Some days it was a novel. The important thing was to submit something.
Getting to $5000 this year...didn't happen. But I got to over $2700...which was over a thousand more than my best year since I started keeping track.
Pushing for a goal helps you focus. It can increase your output. It gives you an amazing sense of accomplishment as you hit milestones. And, even if you don't reach the goal--working toward it makes you feel in control of your work.
The third section of the process is to reward success--eat the sandwich.
This is not a step you can skip. If you don't reward a successful goal's completion, you have given yourself no incentive to set another goal. However, make sure that your reward doesn't sabotage your NEXT goal.
For example, when I completed the submission a day goal, my reward was a few days off...and that really destroyed the goal to submit one thing a week that I made this year.
And, don't beat yourself up if you don't complete a goal. No, I didn't make my goals this year. However, I worked probably harder than ever to sell more books at conventions, to find new shows to sell at, to submit to higher paying markets. And next year, I will try again.
If you don't make your goals, adjust the next year. Build on what works. Re-evaluate what doesn't. Next year, I will be trying to write a piece a day--this is building on the submission a day goal of 2015. I will be shooting for $3500 in revenue. Still more than I made this year, but a more realistic advance on 2016's figures.
What are your goals? How will you accomplish them? I'd love to hear from you. :)
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Tuesday, December 6, 2016
Movie Review -- "Arrival"
The science fiction film "Arrival" has been promoted as "a movie about alien visitors for people who don't like movies about alien visitors." Put another way, it's a science fiction movie which connects on a human level (or, at least aspires to.)
Speaking as a writer of the paranormal genre, I hope for a time when science fiction gains not only the respect of the general public but a means of connection with people who may not be science-minded or given to flights of fancy. Science fiction is largely dismissed as the realm of the outsider, the "geek," the "nerd", the "loser." Largely because it offers no connection with human life and drama; only with dreams and speculations which connect mainly with our child-like wonder. Something which (sadly) we're expected to grow out of.
But, "Arrival" is a science fiction film for adults. (In fact, speaking as a Boston resident, it was the only science fiction film I can recall being run at Kendall Square, a cinema that generally runs only art films.) The point of view character is a linguist named Louise Banks, played with a marvelously human combination of strength and vulnerability by Amy Adams. She is a mother raising a daughter. Years slip by in a heartbeat. We see glimpses of the child telling her mother she loves her. The teenager yelling at her mother that she hates her. And, the heart-rending tragedy of the mother at her daughter's deathbed. Life presented as a misty, dream-like vignette which introduces us to a character we care about.
And then, the familiar, the tragic, the human comes into direct contact with something outside human experience. Extraterrestrial visitation. Huge, enigmatic objects from space set down all over the world. No one can guess at their intentions, but of course the world is on hair-trigger alert. Each nation sets up a team of translators to approach the seemingly impossible task of learning to communicate with a non-human intelligence. And, ironically, at the very time when the nations of humanity should be talking to each other and comparing notes, the nations instead stop talking to each other altogether. Instead of a collaboration that unites the world, the first alien encounter becomes a race to see which nations can get the aliens to cough up superior weapons technology first. Meanwhile, the radio and TV shock jocks are criticizing the American president for not making a show of military strength. It's all sadly familiar. A dark look at human nature. The theme is of course communication, or the lack thereof. And, finding a common point of reference.
But, the protagonist, Banks, is the redeeming face of humanity. Her quiet strength and gentle but determined hunger for knowledge drives her to try to understand the incomprehensible. She has an academic intellect combined with a mother's patience. It seems almost with love that she tries to make herself understood by beings who are as opaque as they are fearsome. Banks peers out with her big, questing eyes through a viewport at towering, dark beings who, shrouded in white mist resemble a cross between giant squid and uprooted tree trunks. Their language looks like circular squiggles of the type a child would make with finger paints and a mother would pin to a refrigerator. But, Banks must find a deeper meaning in them, all while managing her budding romance with a man on her linguistics team.
The action is slow, testing the audience's patience and attention, but it is the quiet melancholy of the human drama intermingling with the unknown and the looming threat of Armageddon that holds the audience. The film is about understanding, patience and compassion overcoming fear and animal instinct, but it's also about learning to look at life from a completely unfamiliar perspective. The alien concept of time, it turns out, is circular, rather than linear, as ours is. Reminiscent of Kurt Vonnegut's "Slaughterhouse Five," this tale offers a holistic, circular view of life that not only manages to endure the tragedy of death and separation, but even to embrace it as a cosmic force that shapes us into who we are. The ending (or, beginning?) is sad and sweet and brings the circle round in a strange and beautiful way. Not a conventional happy ending, to be sure, but one that makes you think, which is what science fiction (good science fiction, that is) is supposed to do. But, this one also makes you feel.
A story like "Arrival" proves science fiction can come of age as a respectable medium which bridges the gap between the child-like dreamer in all of us with the adult issues of daily life. A story that directly connects the larger philosophical questions with life's accessible texture. Here's hoping we see more of its kind.
Speaking as a writer of the paranormal genre, I hope for a time when science fiction gains not only the respect of the general public but a means of connection with people who may not be science-minded or given to flights of fancy. Science fiction is largely dismissed as the realm of the outsider, the "geek," the "nerd", the "loser." Largely because it offers no connection with human life and drama; only with dreams and speculations which connect mainly with our child-like wonder. Something which (sadly) we're expected to grow out of.
But, "Arrival" is a science fiction film for adults. (In fact, speaking as a Boston resident, it was the only science fiction film I can recall being run at Kendall Square, a cinema that generally runs only art films.) The point of view character is a linguist named Louise Banks, played with a marvelously human combination of strength and vulnerability by Amy Adams. She is a mother raising a daughter. Years slip by in a heartbeat. We see glimpses of the child telling her mother she loves her. The teenager yelling at her mother that she hates her. And, the heart-rending tragedy of the mother at her daughter's deathbed. Life presented as a misty, dream-like vignette which introduces us to a character we care about.
And then, the familiar, the tragic, the human comes into direct contact with something outside human experience. Extraterrestrial visitation. Huge, enigmatic objects from space set down all over the world. No one can guess at their intentions, but of course the world is on hair-trigger alert. Each nation sets up a team of translators to approach the seemingly impossible task of learning to communicate with a non-human intelligence. And, ironically, at the very time when the nations of humanity should be talking to each other and comparing notes, the nations instead stop talking to each other altogether. Instead of a collaboration that unites the world, the first alien encounter becomes a race to see which nations can get the aliens to cough up superior weapons technology first. Meanwhile, the radio and TV shock jocks are criticizing the American president for not making a show of military strength. It's all sadly familiar. A dark look at human nature. The theme is of course communication, or the lack thereof. And, finding a common point of reference.
But, the protagonist, Banks, is the redeeming face of humanity. Her quiet strength and gentle but determined hunger for knowledge drives her to try to understand the incomprehensible. She has an academic intellect combined with a mother's patience. It seems almost with love that she tries to make herself understood by beings who are as opaque as they are fearsome. Banks peers out with her big, questing eyes through a viewport at towering, dark beings who, shrouded in white mist resemble a cross between giant squid and uprooted tree trunks. Their language looks like circular squiggles of the type a child would make with finger paints and a mother would pin to a refrigerator. But, Banks must find a deeper meaning in them, all while managing her budding romance with a man on her linguistics team.
The action is slow, testing the audience's patience and attention, but it is the quiet melancholy of the human drama intermingling with the unknown and the looming threat of Armageddon that holds the audience. The film is about understanding, patience and compassion overcoming fear and animal instinct, but it's also about learning to look at life from a completely unfamiliar perspective. The alien concept of time, it turns out, is circular, rather than linear, as ours is. Reminiscent of Kurt Vonnegut's "Slaughterhouse Five," this tale offers a holistic, circular view of life that not only manages to endure the tragedy of death and separation, but even to embrace it as a cosmic force that shapes us into who we are. The ending (or, beginning?) is sad and sweet and brings the circle round in a strange and beautiful way. Not a conventional happy ending, to be sure, but one that makes you think, which is what science fiction (good science fiction, that is) is supposed to do. But, this one also makes you feel.
A story like "Arrival" proves science fiction can come of age as a respectable medium which bridges the gap between the child-like dreamer in all of us with the adult issues of daily life. A story that directly connects the larger philosophical questions with life's accessible texture. Here's hoping we see more of its kind.
Monday, November 7, 2016
The Importance of Anthologies
As I said in my last post, Mocha Memoirs newest anthology release is Ghosts, Gears, and Grimoires, a Steampunk horror collection. The new Sherlock Holmes anthology is currently in production. Last year, we produced Avast, Ye Airships! and An Improbable Truth: The Paranormal Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Past anthology offerings included In the Bloodstream and The Grotesquerie.
Why should you care?
Many reasons. First of all, an anthology is a brilliant way to see the work of many different authors for a substantially cheaper price than if you bought their longer works without knowing anything about them. Of course, we hope that you will want to see more of their writing, but if someone's style doesn't resonate with you, you have other stories to read.
Tying in with that, it is a great way to find new favorites. An anthology usually has a mix of authors--some you may follow regularly, and others you may never have heard of. With a small press, you are even more likely to find some unfamiliar names.
Anthologies usually have a unifying theme or subject matter, which means that you are going to be getting stories that all relate to something you are interested in. Like Airship pirates, or Sherlock Holmes. :)
It can be a lot of fun to collect the authors' autographs too--though sometimes a challenge, as we have many foreign contributors. Which is another benefit: you get to see varying perspectives when you have authors from around the world.
Finally, you don't have to invest a great deal of time all at once to reading it. With short stories from different authors, you can pick and choose the order to savor them depending on the time you have to devote to reading at the moment. Anthologies are great for Kindles and other readers when you might be stuck in a waiting room or a long line.
Search for anthologies on Amazon, and you will be amazed at the variety of offerings. Of course, some may be higher quality than others. In these fast-shifting days of publishing revision, there are many anthologies that have been cobbled together quickly--but even the worst that I have seen have a gem or two in them, and for a reasonable investment.
And Mocha Memoirs has treasure chests full of carefully-chosen gems for you to enjoy!
Why should you care?
Many reasons. First of all, an anthology is a brilliant way to see the work of many different authors for a substantially cheaper price than if you bought their longer works without knowing anything about them. Of course, we hope that you will want to see more of their writing, but if someone's style doesn't resonate with you, you have other stories to read.
Tying in with that, it is a great way to find new favorites. An anthology usually has a mix of authors--some you may follow regularly, and others you may never have heard of. With a small press, you are even more likely to find some unfamiliar names.
Anthologies usually have a unifying theme or subject matter, which means that you are going to be getting stories that all relate to something you are interested in. Like Airship pirates, or Sherlock Holmes. :)
It can be a lot of fun to collect the authors' autographs too--though sometimes a challenge, as we have many foreign contributors. Which is another benefit: you get to see varying perspectives when you have authors from around the world.
Finally, you don't have to invest a great deal of time all at once to reading it. With short stories from different authors, you can pick and choose the order to savor them depending on the time you have to devote to reading at the moment. Anthologies are great for Kindles and other readers when you might be stuck in a waiting room or a long line.
Search for anthologies on Amazon, and you will be amazed at the variety of offerings. Of course, some may be higher quality than others. In these fast-shifting days of publishing revision, there are many anthologies that have been cobbled together quickly--but even the worst that I have seen have a gem or two in them, and for a reasonable investment.
And Mocha Memoirs has treasure chests full of carefully-chosen gems for you to enjoy!
Sunday, November 6, 2016
The Substance of Good and Evil
The substance and nature of good and evil...how to define and recognize each...is a question as old as time. To a writer, especially in the genres of fantasy and larger-than-life melodrama, the question manifests in the design of heroes and villains. What are their core motivations? What drives them? What do they stand for?
The hero's mission is usually a direct reaction to what the villain does. As in classic mystery, the detective's job is to maintain the status quo of society, which the villain would disrupt. So it was with Sherlock Holmes vs. Professor Moriarty. As it was all the way back to Dante's Inferno. Lucifer, the first villain, was the rebel, the one who rejected authority. His adversary Michael was the loyalist, the one blindly adhering to the established order. Lucifer was driven primarily by selfishness, pride, envy, ambition and perhaps a feeling of abandonment by a father who no longer considered him his favorite son. Michael represented good because he was apparently selfless, blindly following the commands of a higher power. Hmmmm....good offers a blank check, it seems.
And while I'm still on Dante's Inferno...anyone see "Inferno", the latest film adaptation of the works of "DaVinci Code" author Dan Brown? Tom Hanks is back as another great intellectual investigator, Professor Robert Langdon, racing the apocalyptic clock as he travels through exotic locales, deciphering ancient clues, this time to save the world from an Armageddon virus which would substantially reduce overpopulation on a global scale, killing billions, turning Earth into a real-life Dante's Inferno. The virus is the brainchild of an old familiar type of villain: The mad scientist. The villain who creates the virus is not some mustache-twirling fiend in a black cape, obviously motivated solely by power-lust or cruelty. He is, like Langdon, a brilliant academic who has perceived (not without justification) that humanity is over-populating, polluting and destroying a fragile eco-system. A modern-day plague of biblical proportions is necessary, he reasons, to cull the herd and usher in a bright new day, as the Black Death ushered in the Renaissance. His reasoning seems perfectly sound (as members of the audience jokingly declare as they leave the theater), albeit cold, reducing humanity to a bacterial culture on a microscope slide. False promises the villain uses to deceive his followers? Or, a truth too terrible for most of us in our short-sighted selfishness to face? In fighting to save the world from the pure-hearted fanatical zealots who would kill half the human race, Professor Langdon makes an emotional appeal which is, frankly, less than inspiring. "Kill half the world to save the other half? These are the promises of tyrants." Okay, so humanity is destroying the world? "So, scream, lead, effect change." He says this, but after saving our sorry, polluted world, he goes back to his safe university gig, his life unchanged. Good lacks imagination and commitment, it seems. Evil takes decisive action. To be good is to accept mediocrity.
As in another contemporary fantasy adventure film, "Dr. Strange." Benedict Cumberbatch (who looks like he was born to play the role) brings the Marvel mystical hero to life in another battle to save the world (such as it is.) This particular hero is interesting in that, unlike many heroes, he isn't static; he changes and grows. From a selfish fop who uses his medical genius to advance his own wealth and glory rather than out of any genuine sense of caring for his patients. An accident leaves his manual dexterity impaired, taking away the source of his fame and glory, destroying his life. He seeks magic only out of a selfish desire to restore what he has lost. His great awakening comes only through learning that there are dangers out there. Great evils. That which would...you guessed it...change the world. This time, the villain, the wizard Kaecilius (played by Mads Mikkelson of Hannibal Lecter fame) seeks not to destroy half the world. Just the opposite. He wants everybody to live forever. The price, however, is free will. To achieve immortality, we must blindly submit to a dark god who would bind us to his uncompromising will. (I guess Kaecilius is Michael, then.)
Heroes don't always reject change, though. Some heroes are rebels, like Luke Skywalker, making the decision to change the dark status quo of a repressive galactic empire and fighting to overthrow a dictatorial regime. In trying to tempt him, the villain Darth Vader offers him a chance to "restore order to the galaxy." "Your kind of order," Luke scoffs. But then, Darth Vader started out as a rebel, too. He rejected the status quo that required his loved ones die at the hands of common savages. He raged against that status quo, ruthlessly slaughtering his enemies. He craved a stable universe under a strong leader (two days to election time, folks) and his longing for swift, easy answers was his path to darkness. Luke is really trying to restore the old order that the empire had previously supplanted through its own earlier rebellion.
Every villain starts out by rejecting the status quo, it seems. The villain, in his genesis, rejects what is, insisting he can do better. He may be motivated by envy, arrogance, grief, perhaps even compassion for the suffering of others. He believes, perhaps with the arrogance of a child believing he knows more than his forbears that he can do better than the established order, so he takes what he wants. The American Revolutionaries did that. Women and oppressed minorities have had their own rebellions, from chaining themselves to fences, starving themselves, even blowing things up. At the time, they were (and, are) denounced by advocates of the status quo as the villains of the piece. Later generations recognized them as heroes.
So, what is the defining criterion? What distinguishes the good rebel from the bad rebel? The stage coach robber in the western, we see as the villain. Robin Hood stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, we see as the hero. It all depends on whether we see the status quo as good or evil, how good or evil, and what lengths we are willing to go to effect change.
In real life, many may think our world is heading "in the wrong" direction and we may long for change. Even to the point of bombing the s**t out of half the world. I suppose defining our heroes and villains should come down to defining their core values. More often than not, it comes down to perceiving their outward selves in whatever form we need to satisfy our own ill-defined values and desires. Life is a story we're all still writing. But, it's always the later generations who decide who were the villains, and who the heroes.
The hero's mission is usually a direct reaction to what the villain does. As in classic mystery, the detective's job is to maintain the status quo of society, which the villain would disrupt. So it was with Sherlock Holmes vs. Professor Moriarty. As it was all the way back to Dante's Inferno. Lucifer, the first villain, was the rebel, the one who rejected authority. His adversary Michael was the loyalist, the one blindly adhering to the established order. Lucifer was driven primarily by selfishness, pride, envy, ambition and perhaps a feeling of abandonment by a father who no longer considered him his favorite son. Michael represented good because he was apparently selfless, blindly following the commands of a higher power. Hmmmm....good offers a blank check, it seems.
And while I'm still on Dante's Inferno...anyone see "Inferno", the latest film adaptation of the works of "DaVinci Code" author Dan Brown? Tom Hanks is back as another great intellectual investigator, Professor Robert Langdon, racing the apocalyptic clock as he travels through exotic locales, deciphering ancient clues, this time to save the world from an Armageddon virus which would substantially reduce overpopulation on a global scale, killing billions, turning Earth into a real-life Dante's Inferno. The virus is the brainchild of an old familiar type of villain: The mad scientist. The villain who creates the virus is not some mustache-twirling fiend in a black cape, obviously motivated solely by power-lust or cruelty. He is, like Langdon, a brilliant academic who has perceived (not without justification) that humanity is over-populating, polluting and destroying a fragile eco-system. A modern-day plague of biblical proportions is necessary, he reasons, to cull the herd and usher in a bright new day, as the Black Death ushered in the Renaissance. His reasoning seems perfectly sound (as members of the audience jokingly declare as they leave the theater), albeit cold, reducing humanity to a bacterial culture on a microscope slide. False promises the villain uses to deceive his followers? Or, a truth too terrible for most of us in our short-sighted selfishness to face? In fighting to save the world from the pure-hearted fanatical zealots who would kill half the human race, Professor Langdon makes an emotional appeal which is, frankly, less than inspiring. "Kill half the world to save the other half? These are the promises of tyrants." Okay, so humanity is destroying the world? "So, scream, lead, effect change." He says this, but after saving our sorry, polluted world, he goes back to his safe university gig, his life unchanged. Good lacks imagination and commitment, it seems. Evil takes decisive action. To be good is to accept mediocrity.
As in another contemporary fantasy adventure film, "Dr. Strange." Benedict Cumberbatch (who looks like he was born to play the role) brings the Marvel mystical hero to life in another battle to save the world (such as it is.) This particular hero is interesting in that, unlike many heroes, he isn't static; he changes and grows. From a selfish fop who uses his medical genius to advance his own wealth and glory rather than out of any genuine sense of caring for his patients. An accident leaves his manual dexterity impaired, taking away the source of his fame and glory, destroying his life. He seeks magic only out of a selfish desire to restore what he has lost. His great awakening comes only through learning that there are dangers out there. Great evils. That which would...you guessed it...change the world. This time, the villain, the wizard Kaecilius (played by Mads Mikkelson of Hannibal Lecter fame) seeks not to destroy half the world. Just the opposite. He wants everybody to live forever. The price, however, is free will. To achieve immortality, we must blindly submit to a dark god who would bind us to his uncompromising will. (I guess Kaecilius is Michael, then.)
Heroes don't always reject change, though. Some heroes are rebels, like Luke Skywalker, making the decision to change the dark status quo of a repressive galactic empire and fighting to overthrow a dictatorial regime. In trying to tempt him, the villain Darth Vader offers him a chance to "restore order to the galaxy." "Your kind of order," Luke scoffs. But then, Darth Vader started out as a rebel, too. He rejected the status quo that required his loved ones die at the hands of common savages. He raged against that status quo, ruthlessly slaughtering his enemies. He craved a stable universe under a strong leader (two days to election time, folks) and his longing for swift, easy answers was his path to darkness. Luke is really trying to restore the old order that the empire had previously supplanted through its own earlier rebellion.
Every villain starts out by rejecting the status quo, it seems. The villain, in his genesis, rejects what is, insisting he can do better. He may be motivated by envy, arrogance, grief, perhaps even compassion for the suffering of others. He believes, perhaps with the arrogance of a child believing he knows more than his forbears that he can do better than the established order, so he takes what he wants. The American Revolutionaries did that. Women and oppressed minorities have had their own rebellions, from chaining themselves to fences, starving themselves, even blowing things up. At the time, they were (and, are) denounced by advocates of the status quo as the villains of the piece. Later generations recognized them as heroes.
So, what is the defining criterion? What distinguishes the good rebel from the bad rebel? The stage coach robber in the western, we see as the villain. Robin Hood stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, we see as the hero. It all depends on whether we see the status quo as good or evil, how good or evil, and what lengths we are willing to go to effect change.
In real life, many may think our world is heading "in the wrong" direction and we may long for change. Even to the point of bombing the s**t out of half the world. I suppose defining our heroes and villains should come down to defining their core values. More often than not, it comes down to perceiving their outward selves in whatever form we need to satisfy our own ill-defined values and desires. Life is a story we're all still writing. But, it's always the later generations who decide who were the villains, and who the heroes.
Monday, October 3, 2016
Has It Really Been a Month Already?! -- Endings and Beginnings
Time flies when you are having fun...
It looks like October will be a month of endings and beginnings here at Mocha Memoirs. First of all, if you haven't gotten your story in to Alexandra Christian for the latest Sherlock Holmes anthology call, submissions END on October 14th. Time is running out--so if you have been procrastinating...get a move on!
It will also be the BEGINNING of availability for Ghosts, Gears, and Grimoires, the Steampunk Horror anthology that debuts on October 27th. I can't wait to see the book in print. There are some wickedly awesome stories in it.
Of course, Halloween is also coming--that is the END of October (and my personal favorite holiday) and marks the BEGINNING of National Novel Writing Month. If you have never participated in NaNoWriMo, give it a shot! What have you got to lose? Even if you don't finish, you will have more words than you started with. :)
The goal is 50,000 words in a month, which is a bit daunting, I know--but that works out to only 1667 words a day to make the goal. That isn't so bad. After all, this post has over 200 words, and look how short it is... It is a lot of fun, and I've gotten at least five or six completed manuscripts from the rough first drafts of November. Who knows? You might be the next discovery for us!
It looks like October will be a month of endings and beginnings here at Mocha Memoirs. First of all, if you haven't gotten your story in to Alexandra Christian for the latest Sherlock Holmes anthology call, submissions END on October 14th. Time is running out--so if you have been procrastinating...get a move on!
It will also be the BEGINNING of availability for Ghosts, Gears, and Grimoires, the Steampunk Horror anthology that debuts on October 27th. I can't wait to see the book in print. There are some wickedly awesome stories in it.
Of course, Halloween is also coming--that is the END of October (and my personal favorite holiday) and marks the BEGINNING of National Novel Writing Month. If you have never participated in NaNoWriMo, give it a shot! What have you got to lose? Even if you don't finish, you will have more words than you started with. :)
The goal is 50,000 words in a month, which is a bit daunting, I know--but that works out to only 1667 words a day to make the goal. That isn't so bad. After all, this post has over 200 words, and look how short it is... It is a lot of fun, and I've gotten at least five or six completed manuscripts from the rough first drafts of November. Who knows? You might be the next discovery for us!
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