Dear Mother,

Before I do anything in my life at all challenging or stressful, I like to read about it. It's an old academic habit, I guess, needing to study before the test. So I've read lots and lots of stuff about "the writer's life" the last couple of years. Pretty much all of them say the same thing. Something like:

So you want to be a writer! What are you, stupid? Do you have any idea how difficult that is? It took me twenty-six years just to write and publish this book you are reading. I was rejected by one hundred and seventeen publishers. I was rejected by eighty-six agents. I was rejected by Emily Shipley at my high school prom.

She was wearing a sparkly blue strapless dress and silver heels, drinking punch by the door with Tiffany Thicke, and I walked over and said, "You look beautiful tonight, Emily. Would you like to dance?" Isn't that good? That's good, right? She mumbled something about not wanting to leave Tiffany, so we stood there making awkward conversation for five minutes before I pretended I had to go to the bathroom and left. Then like, literally five minutes later she was dancing with Kip Freeman. Kip Freeman! His name is Kip.

But that's what life is like as a writer. The world is full of Emily Shipleys and Kip Freemans. All the Kips of the world will land beautiful dates in strapless blue dresses and six-figure book deals with major publishing houses. And you will come up with something brilliant and heart-felt and simple, something like "You look beautiful tonight, Emily. Would you like to dance?" and get rejected over and over again. You'll pretend you're going to the bathroom and get yourself a job as a barista or a substitute teacher, or maybe you'll luck out and land something at a library. And you'll saunter back to your friends and try to explain to them why you failed.

Can you handle that? Because if you can't, you should stop now. You should just stay with your friends on the opposite side of the room and make fun of people until after-prom, where you can eat six or seven tiny subs off the Subway party platter and concentrate on playing poker and blackjack for fake money. It's a much safer bet.

Or something like that. And I would read that and think, "Sure, maybe that applies to some people. But not me. I'm Jordan Jeffers. I started for my high school basketball team. I beat Super Mario Brothers 3 on NES. I have not one, not two, but three complete boxed sets of the Chronicles of Narnia. There's no Emily Shipley in the world that will say no to me."

But of course pretty much everyone has said no to me: the Emily Shipleys and the Tiffany Thickes alike. Maybe if you would have rejected me more as a kid, I'd be able to handle it better. We're still allowed to blame our own failings on our parents, right? That hasn't changed? 'Cause I'd really appreciate you taking the fall on this one.

Oh don't worry, I'm not quitting. Actually, I'm starting a novel in April, soon as we get back from Italy. It'll be beautiful and simple and real, and probably no one will like it but you and Madelyn. Emily Shipley certainly won't. But I don't care. I'll just ask someone else. The weird new girl in the copper skirt, maybe. She looks like a good dancer. Or maybe I'll just dance alone for awhile, and see if anyone joins me. Either way, at least I'm dancing. No more fake bathroom trips for me.

Hope you are doing well.

With love always,

Your son Jordan

Jordan Jeffers writes letters to his mother on the Internet because stamps are a form of witchcraft. Feel free to give him electronic encouragement via the little Facebook and Twitter buttons below. It means more to him than you might think.

Book review in one tweet

Super smart people wearing space suits with laser fingers fight goiter-headed, fish-eyed aliens. 1000 years later, they use swords and spears. #actuallymakessense

Favorite quote

The 1143-year-long war had been begun on false pretenses and only continued because the two races were unable to communicate. Once they could talk, the first question was "Why did you start this thing?" and the answer was "Me?"

Review

My brother-in-law got me The Forever War for Christmas last year. At the time, he described it as Apocalypse Now in space, which sounds about right to me. Of course, I've never seen Apocalypse Now, so that should mean nothing to you.

You might've guessed this from the title, but this book has a lot of fighting and a lot of commentary on why we fight. It takes place over a thousand years, though we follow the same main character throughout the book, William Mandella. William stay alive and young due to the magic of time-dilation; basically, he spends a lot of his time traveling at near the speed of light. At such high speeds, time passes more slowly, and a few months of time aboard his spaceship turns into hundreds of years on Earth. This is one of those freaky physics phenomenons that are actually true. The faster you go, the less time passes for you.

This leads to a very weird life, because every time William returns to Earth from a mission, he finds things have changed drastically since he left. It's fun to watch the book's vision of the future unfold in that way. Like a lot of science fiction books, however, The Forever War can't really deal with God except when he comes before the word "damn," so the future of religion, which I'm super interested in, is totally ignored.

Ultimately, the book forces you to question the motivations and causes of war, as you might expect a book written during the Vietnam War to do. Its vision is sort of limited to that particular war, however. There is no concept of a war in which real, moral differences exist among the different sides; war is here envisioned solely as an economic and nationalistic tool of corrupt government leaders. And modern warfare, at least, often seems all too similar to that vision.

Nerd rating

7 wizard staffs (out of 10)

Lots of super inventive fighting techniques and imaginative planets. I particularly liked Haldeman's concept of a "stasis field," which leads to one of the coolest battle sequences I've ever read. Definitely worth checking out from your local library.

Non-nerd rating

8 cold, frosty beers (out of 10)

If you don't normally like science fiction, this is a good introduction to the genre. There's a minimum of nerding out and a maximum of action. Plus a random love story thrown in for good measure.

Jordan Jeffers still thinks the best science fiction book on war is Slaughterhouse Five. Feel free to give him electronic encouragement via the little Facebook and Twitter buttons below. Peace.

This documentary in one tweet

French guy spends 45 minutes on a wire 1300 feet in the air. Doesn't die. That's pretty much it. #ThePictureBookWasBetter

Favorite quote

"That's what really attracted me, it's the challenge part of something that's supposed to be impossible. And in the meantime, doing something so beautiful that not only doesn't hurt anybody, but gives something to somebody." - Jean Louis Blondeau, friend and co-conspirator.

Review

Man on Wire tells the story of Frenchman Philippe Petit, who, in August of 1974, broke into the World Trade Center with a several accomplices, strung a tightrope between the Twin Towers, and walked between them for nearly an hour.

Go ahead and read that first sentence again.

(Seriously)

You back?

Are you blown away by this yet?

No?

Am I asking too many rhetorical questions?

Yes?

Sorry, I'll stop. You should be blown away by this. Here's some pictures to help you be blown away by it:

1. Picture 1
2. Picture 2

It's an amazing achievement, and I totally understand what Jean-Louis was talking about in the quote above. Seeing something that amazing is like receiving a gift; it just makes you feel happy and inspired and energized all at once. It's totally illegal, and for good reason. Because if he fell and killed himself, that's like opening a gift and finding a black mamba inside.

Second amazing thing: Philippe is extremely French. Like, extremely. At one point, I was mad at the documentary crew for showing Philippe rising around Paris on a unicycle, in a black beret and turtleneck, thinking it was a stereotyped reenactment. Then I realized it was actual home video of Philippe riding around Paris on a unicycle, wearing a black beret and turtleneck. Also, the first thing he did after he got out of jail was to have a bunch of sex with a woman who was not his girlfriend of many years. He's French.

But you know the most amazing thing about the film? (Of course you don't, I'm just asking another rhetorical question.) It was made in 2008. It was about the twin towers. Something sort of important happened about seven years before it was released. But the whole story is told as if that never happened, as if what eventually happened to these towers is unimportant to Philippe's story.

And maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe it's some kind of triumph to make a movie celebrating something amazing that happened between the towers without dragging us endlessly back to the day when they came tumbling down. But I felt the absence, like I was watching a documentary exclusively about the construction of Pearl Harbor.

Final Rating

5 cold, frosty beers (out of 10)

This was an hour and a half documentary that could have been condensed into twenty minutes without losing anything important. It's like those giant boxes of candy that are three quarters packaging - a delicious, chocolaty twenty minutes, but surrounded by too much fluff.

I do seem to be the only person on the Internet who didn't really like this movie though. It's has a 100% critic approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes and Wikipedia tells me it won a whole bunch of awards.

But don't listen to them. Listen to me. I have a website with my name on it. Does that mean nothing to you?

Jordan Jeffers recommends the picture book The Man Who Walked Between the Towers, which is the same story, only shorter and without the sex afterwards. Feel free to give him electronic encouragement via the little Facebook and Twitter buttons below. Peace.

Dear Mother,

Thanks for following me on Twitter! You are now one of an exclusive eleven, along with such noted tweeters as @nicekindlesee, @sweatshoppepubs, and the UIS Volunteer and Civic Engagement Center. And yes, to answer your question, I was in control of the UIS Volunteer Center twitter account when I followed myself they followed me back in 2010. But it still counts!

That's how long I've had a Twitter account, since 2010, though I haven't actually started using it until now. So far I like the fake accounts of dead people (here's looking at you, @OldHossRadbourn) and this extremely creepy profile picture of Tony Larussa holding a kitten and a puppy. I also like how it's a mildly entertaining way to waste time.

Anyway, I noticed you haven't tweeted yet, so here's a list of tips to get you started:

1. Favorite or retweet everything I tweet. I mean everything. I'm surprised you haven't done this already actually. And a little disappointed [insert sad face emoticon]. Do you know how to favorite? Learn how to favorite.
2. Do not expect me to favorite or retweet you. It's unfair, I know, but this is how the parent-child relationship works. You give, I take. In return, I'll occasionally write you a letter and bring you the box of good chocolates when I come visit you and dad in the nursing home in 30 years. The real Fannie May chocolates. Even a whole box of vanilla creams, if you want them.
3. Don't self-promote. Get other people to do that for you.
4. Follow clever people. Unless you're a famous actress or sports writer, Twitter is basically just a contest between a bunch of random people to see who can be the most clever. So there are a lot to choose from. For example, me.
5. Don't insult nine-year old girls
6. Don't post naked pictures of your current/future grandchildren. Seriously, no matter how cute the picture is. They'll thank you in fifty years when they're running for President. Or in twenty years when they're trying to get a date.
7. See number 1.

Twitter is just like every other place on the internet. It's full of frantic, youthful energy, has tons of great information, and its own, techy dialect.

It also has lots of angry, bitter people who hover over everything like a cloud of hate, ready to let the world know that they're above all of us sincere people. So just don't follow that cloud. Or become a part of it.

Follow Barbie (@BarbieStyle) instead. She lives the fab life in 140 characters or less.

With love always,

Your son Jordan

P.S. I know that Dad is about as likely to create a Twitter account for himself as the dog, but do you think it would be OK if I made a fake one for him set one up for him that he could use in the future? I'll probably just do it anyway. I hear that once you get twelve followers, people start to take you seriously.

Jordan Jeffers writes letters to his mother on the Internet because stamps are a form of witchcraft. Feel free to give him electronic encouragement via the little Facebook and Twitter buttons below. Peace.