On getting what we pay for

What do the following things have in common?

Armani Code Eau de Toilette
Samsung Galaxy Note 4 new replacement battery
Samsung Galaxy Note 4 new stylus
Under Armour compression t-shirt

They're all top-quality items sold as the real deal online...but not what we receive
I'd used Armani Code for years and gotten rave reviews from customers and ladies. But the ood, compliments stopped the day I started wearing the bottle bought from Amazon. It was convincingly packaged and seemed to smell the same. But it had no projection and the scent faded in only an hour.

Sure enough, I did what I should have done in the first place: :checked out the 1-star reviews. Same complaint around the board. So back I went to Macy's.

But I drew the wrong conclusion: that fake toiletries were a class unto themselves.

When my phone battery died, though, I needed a replacement fast. And when I couldn't find one in a brick and mortar store, I didn't' hesitate to order one from Amazon. Not just any old one that was listed. No, I chose a best-selling original new Samsung battery. It arrived in two days and looked like the real deal: neatly wrapped in a sealed Samsung box. But daily the charge it would hold went down: from 90% to 53%...and lower. When I had to recharge it every couple of hours, I ordered a replacement, this time expecting the worst after reading the one-star reviews. One of the reviewers posted photos of authentic Samsung batteries and packaging--with photos of the fakes. (E.g., the backside of the inner wrapping has a Samsung code. My second replacement battery had no inner wrap.)

I could go on. The 'original' styluses were junk, some of them breaking within a few days. And one clever clone maker even mimicked the Samsung shadow logo on the silver top--though they neglected to color it white.

There's no sense blaming Amazon, which can't police all of its vendors and will cheerfully refund any misadvertised merch. Besides, we have ample protection:

1) The 1 and 2-star reviews.
2) Common sense, which should remind us that we really do get what we pay for. If the Samsung store sells a stylus for $30,  we should be wary of buying it online for $9.99. Ditto an authentic Under Armour compression tee--be prepared to spend $30 if you're concerned with quality.

I'm troubled a good deal more by the growing unawareness of the difference between the real deals and their clones in fashion and in art.

Here's to the distinction, with hopes it never dies.

I've Got a Crush on My New Mouse: Part 1

Last week, sick to the crash and burn point of frayed or tangled mouse cords, I bought a good-quality optical mouse.





And within a couple of minutes I knew I'd made a sound investment.
--Convenience: the micro receiver remains lodged in my laptop's USB port. Or it can be stored beside the battery in back.
--Sturdiness: nothing flimsy about the mouse. Solidly built--compared to discount plug-ins that broke whenever dropped...or looked at the wrong way.
--Quality: remember the old ad jingle: 'A little dab'll do you'? Well, a single click with this will pull up any link. Writing and editing functions are also much simpler and quicker: highlighting, cut and pasting, scrolling, navigation...No double or triple clicks required, no stubborn refusals to scroll on TweetDeck..
--Speed: by my count, my online working time has been cut in almost half. From 2 hours each morning to 1, with followups later each day.

My mind has been running with this all week long. Where else have I paid too much for saving a couple of dollars? Where else I have stopped way short of exploring superior options?




I worked, for example, for too many years at a low-level job. You all know the kind I mean--the sort that leads to signs like this:




I had no end of excuses. The job gave me time for my writing.,..At my age I couldn't find anything else...I'd done the job so long it had become my 'expertise'...Etc.

But with a shift of perspective and a healthy shot of gall, I set out to whip my excuses. And within 2 weeks, I had a better paying job in a better part of town--and a dreamy schedule that allows me time to write.

This week I'll conduct a thorough inner search, on the hunt for other areas where my vision's fallen short...or where I've settled for less.

And Babycakes, the optical mouse, will get to conduct the review in Part 2.

Literary Factories 2: Should a book go full throttle or work on all eights?

Two men I respect have raised good points about speed in the creative process. Russell Blake makes a strong case for turning out novels in 4-6 weeks by working almost round the clock. And his sales figures do seem to bolster his case. Photographer Paul Cotter argues that creative speed is relative to talent, temperament and drive: some brilliant musical albums have taken years to produce while others came about over a wild weekend. And Mozart was said to have heard completed symphonies in his head before he wrote a note.

Agreed. And I'll take the argument further: I enjoy reading pulp fiction that I know was written in days. Further still: long before Russell Blake, there existed a lengthy tradition of popular writers who worked at great speed: from Dumas to Balzac to Dickens, from Agatha Christie to Erle Stanley Gardner. And many of these writers' books are still being read. Other once-famous factories made excellent livings by writing far more.

ROLL CALL
--Ned Buntline, the pen name of Edward Zane Carroll Judson, wrote 400 novels in the 1800s--including one 600 page novel written in 62 hours. He earned the then royal sum of twenty grand a year and lived as a country squire.
--His contemporary, Prentiss Ingram, whipped out two novels a month for a grand total of 600 books. Lived as a Southern gent on $16,000-$18,000 a year.
--Meanwhile, Gilbert Patten went on to write 1,000 novels under the pen name Burt  Burt L. Standish
--Frederick Faust, a.ka Max Brand, outdid them all in the 1920s--publishing 25 million words of fiction under 20 pen names. At least twenty typed pages a day, every day. He could write  a novella in a night, a short story in an hour, a short novel in less than a week. Annual income from his books and film work: $100,000.
--And the list goes on.

But the success they enjoyed raises questions:

1) What exactly do we want from the more prolific writers--sparkling literary style and profound insights into character or consistent excellence in plotting, pacing and visceral fun?
2) Can good writers take too long to write?
3) What might we expect from a book by a writer who works at a much slower pace?
4) Why does Quentin Tarantino spend years on his films when spin-off can be done in months?
5) Could the ideal reading diet be a mixture of factory-style productions and books that  are more custom made?

I read Russell Blake with great pleasure. At the same, I treasure books that took Ira Levin a decade to write.

In part three, we'll explore the benefits of breakneck pace in writing.