Every year as the holiday season begins we’ve run a gift guide for the holidays, and over the years it’s been quite successful: Lots of people have found out about excellent books and crafts and charities and what have you, making for excellent gift-giving opportunities during the holiday season. We’ve decided to do it again this year.
So: Starting Monday, December 1, the Whatever Holiday Gift Guide returns! If you’re a writer or other creator, this will be an excellent time to promote your work on a site which gets tens of thousands of viewers daily, almost all of whom will be interested in stuff for the holidays. If you’re someone looking to give gifts, you’ll see lots of excellent ideas. And you’ll also have a day to suggest stuff from other folks too. Everybody wins!
To give you all time to prepare, here’s the schedule of what will be promoted on which days:
Monday, December 1: Traditionally Published Authors — If your work is being published by a publisher a) who is not you and b) gets your books into actual, physical bookstores on a returnable basis, this is your day to tell people about your books. This includes comics/graphic novels and audiobooks.
Tuesday, December 2: Non-Traditionally Published Authors — Self-published? Electronically published? Or other? This is your day. This also includes comics/graphic novels and audiobooks.
Wednesday, December 3: Other Creators — Artists, knitters, jewelers, musicians, and anyone who has cool stuff to sell this holiday season, this will be the day to show off your creations.
Thursday, December 4: Fan Favorite Day — Not an author/artist/musician/other creator but know about some really cool stuff you think people will want to know about for the holidays? Share! Share with the crowd!
Friday, December 5: Charities — If you are involved in a charity, or have a favorite charity you’d like to let people know about, this is the day to do it.
If you have questions about how all of this will work, go ahead and ask them in the comment thread (Don’t start promoting your stuff today — it’s not time yet), although I will note that specific instructions for each day will appear on that day. Don’t worry, it’ll be pretty easy. Thanks and feel free to share this post with creative folks who will have things to sell this holiday season.
So one of my current projects-in-rotation is doing an extremely geeky analysis of the history and dynamics of the Best Related* Hugo category.
The initial stage was to create a spreadsheet of all the known nominees (finalists, long-list, and any additional available data), track down additional data related to them, and categorize the nature and content of the works from various angles.
The second stage was to describe and document the procedural activities behind the creation and modification of the category, as well as to do the same for other Hugo categories that interacted with its scope in some way.**
The third stage was to put together simple descriptive statistics for nomination patterns, comparing the three "eras" of the category scope and (to the extent possible) comparing chronological changes within each era that give evidence for the evolution of nominator attitudes. (Graphs! We have graphs!)
Now I've moved on to a more narrative analysis of each of the various category axes (e.g., media format, content type, etc.) examining what they tell us about how the nominating community thinks about appropriate scope and noteworthiness. As I've hoped would happen, some interesting thoughts and observations are showing up as I work through the discussions, and I'm making notes towards an eventual Conclusions section.
To some extent, I have three sets of questions that I'd like to answer:
1) On a descriptive basis, what have people nominated for Best Related? How have changes in the official definition and name of the category affected what people nominate, and where are the places where nominators have pushed the edges of the official scope and, in so doing, affected future decisions about changing the official scope?
2) Can we determine what makes nominators consider a work worthy of nomination for Best Related? How do factors including format, subject, and creator visibility interact in the nomination dynamics? To what extent are larger socio-political currents reflected in what is nominated?
3) On an anecdotal basis, there are opinions that the Best Related category has "jumped the shark" in terms of works being nominated that are frivolous, trivial, out-of-scope, etc. Some ascribe this to the open-ended definition of the scope under the Best Related Work label. Are there quantitative or qualitative differences in what is being nominated currently that would support an opinion that the category is becoming less relevant in terms of recognizing "worthy" work? And if so (not saying I hold this opinion), does the data point to approaches that might discourage "outliers" from an agreed-on scope without the need for procedural gymnastics or ruthlessly excluding worthy works purely on the basis of format? (Works that would have no other route to recognition under the current Hugo Awards program.)
Please note that my purpose in doing this analysis is scientific curiosity (and a desire to keep my analytic brain in practice). I tend to be solidly on the "let the nominators decide" team outside of the scope definitions enshrined in the WSFS constitution (which Hugo administrators have often subsumed to the "let the nominators decide" position). But at the same time, I'm interested in answering the question of "how has the body of nominations/finalists/winners changed as the scope of the category has broadened?"
It will be several more months (at least) before I'll have a draft ready for anyone else to look at. At which point I'll be looking for some beta readers, not only for intelligibility and accuracy but for any points of context that I may be unaware of. I anticipate publishing the resulting work in my blog, though I may be looking for some other venue to mirror it for a wider audience.
*"Best Related" is my umbrella term for the three stages of the category: Best Non-Fiction Book, Best Related Book, and Best Related Work. Part of my analysis is to examine how changes in the category name and scope affected what got nominated.
**For example, how the creation of categories for Best Fancast, Best Game, etc. interacted with the nomination of those types of works under Best Related.
Most of the time when I read book reviews in The Atlantic, I think “Mmmm, glad someone else read this so I don’t have to.” But when I read their review of Daniel Kehlmann’s The Director, I was like “I need this in my eyeballs NOW.”
The Director (translated from German by Ross Benjamin) is a novelized biography of G. W. Pabst, one of the most important directors in the post-World War I German film scene, most famous today for discovering Greta Garbo and Louise Brooks. (Diary of a Lost Girl with Louise Brooks is the one floating in my vague “I’d like to see that one day” mental cloud.)
After Hitler rose to power, Pabst left Germany and looked for work in Hollywood. He struggled to find work in America, returned to Europe not long before the outbreak of war, and ended up making films in Nazi Germany.
These are the basic outlines of Pabst’s life, and they’re a matter of historical record. From here on out, I’m going to be referring specifically to the Pabst of the book, who clearly has some points of divergence with the real Pabst. For instance: book!Pabst has a son of military age, who is clearly standing in for the experience of the Average German Youth, while the real Pabst’s baby son was born during the war.
Now clearly the central question of the book is, how do you go from hating a regime so much that you flee to another country to uneasily collaborating with it? Part of the answer being that Pabst, in his own mind, is not collaborating: he’s not making propaganda films, he’s making non-political films! And he just happens to be making them in, okay, Nazi Germany, but does making art under an evil regime necessarily make that art evil?
And, okay, yes, technically his films are funded by the Nazi film ministry because that’s the sole source of funding in Nazi Germany. But what if you’re taking the funds from the Nazi film ministry and making a film like Paracelsus, which has what might be taken as an anti-Nazi message…? The whole sequence where a madman starts dancing, and everyone else starts dancing in time with him……?
But, I mean. Is that an anti-Nazi message, or is that just Pabst fans trying to come up with a justification for why “made films for Nazi Germany” is not quite as bad as it looks?
And then you have Pabst’s next film, his lost Molander, based on a book by a Nazi party hack named Karrasch. (There’s a hilari-terrifying scene where Pabst’s wife finds herself in a book club entirely devoted to Karrasch, who sounds like Nazi Nicholas Sparks). The subject matter is foisted on Pabst, but he digs beneath the surface of the story till he can make the script his own, then heads to Prague to film it.
The city is being continually bombed, and the Soviets are getting closer every day. Pabst’s assistant Franz comments, “Don’t you find it strange, Pabst, that we’re making a movie like this in the middle of the apocalypse?”
“Times are always strange,” Pabst tells him. “Art is always out of place. Always unnecessary when it’s made. And later, when you look back, it’s the only thing that matters.”
They’re supposed to get a battalion of soldiers for extras, but the battalion is called away to the front right before they film. So - Pabst turns to the local concentration camp.
I should say that this is not a spoiler - we learn it in the first chapter - and also that Pabst’s concentration camp extras, specifically, are historical speculation. There really were directors who used concentration camp inmates as extras (famously Leni Riefenstahl), but there’s no evidence if Pabst used them in Molander, as the film really was lost. But that’s what everyone was doing to make up labor shortages. It’s plausible.
And Pabst tells his assistant, “All this madness, Franz, this diabolical madness, gives us the chance to make a great film. Without us, everything would be the same, no one would be saved, no one would be better off. And the film wouldn’t exist.”
Only in the end, the film is lost. So it doesn’t exist, after all.
The YouTube video above fascinates me, because it details how people making $500,000 a year — economically fortunate by any sane measure — are still frequently living paycheck to paycheck. One signal reason for this is the issue of lifestyle comparison, and the fact that income disparity in the 1% is vastly wider than the income disparity within other segments of American life.
Huh? Well, as an example, let’s look at the third quartile of income in the US. In 2023 that third quintile had incomes roughly between $61,000 and $98,000, according to the US Census. Everyone within that quintile was within $37,000 dollars of each other in yearly income, more or less. That disparity is not nothing, obviously, but it’s all within economic hailing distance. In the one percent, the income range was between about $560,000 and, well, more than a billion dollars (this is reported income, not unrealized, illiquid wealth in things like stocks and real estate). Someone on the lowest rung of the 1% is vastly economically closer to someone in abject poverty than they are to that billionaire.
Thing is, if you are in the 1%, you’re not comparing your lifestyle to someone living in a tarpaper shack, you’re comparing your lifestyle to other people in the 1%. This often means comparing yourself to people who have ten or a hundred times more income than you do, with similar inequalities in overall wealth. Your lifestyle costs more, and because it costs more, the temptation of the “lower rung rich” to financially overextend themselves to keep up appearances is real — and also, in the world of the upper classes, things just cost more, because companies catering to rich people know their customers don’t want to be seen counting their coins. The person in the market for a BMW 7 series is a fundamentally different economic entity than the person in the market for a Honda Accord. This person is shopping at Erewhon, not Aldi. In the 1%, apparently, you are who you appear to be, or at least, who you appear to be to your neighbors and co-workers.
(Mind you, shit’s getting more expensive for everyone everywhere, it’s not just the 1% feeling the inflationary pinch. But as the video points out, businesses and economists are aware that most people in lower four quintiles are as squeezed as they’re going to get; any new growth in sales/revenues are going to come from the top end, which makes them ripe for price increases on goods and services directed to them specifically.)
“Well, Scalzi, you’re bougie as fuck and yet you don’t seem to be living paycheck to paycheck,” I hear you say. And it’s true! There are reasons for that. One, I’m a writer, and my “paychecks” — advances, royalties, the occasional film/TV option — arrive so sporadically that if we tried to budget around their arrival we would be screwed. Early on, when I was still a freelancer (and, to be clear, with the help of Krissy having a more regular income) we built up a “buffer account” to make sure our paying of bills was not dependent on waiting for any one particular check of mine to arrive. That buffer account still exists, just a little more padded out.
Two, we’ve largely avoided the comparison trap. We live in rural Ohio, a location not exactly swimming with people whose income we directly index our own against, and not a place where shops cater to the higher end of incomes. I’m a writer, which means the professional community I am part of does not generally have the same incomes as, say, neurosurgeons or finance dudes. The highly sporadic nature of writer income also means I am aware the income is not reliable, and watching the careers of other writers through the years means I know one can’t just assume everything will be golden forever. Also, you know. Krissy and I both grew up with periods of our lives where we experienced, shall we say, a deficit of money. This has made each of us relatively conservative with what we do with our money, both individually and together. We’re not going to spend money to impress other people. We’re sure as hell not going to pile up debt to do it.
Three, we have other advantages and strategies. Where we live means we are able to acquire property at a discount to other areas (this means we’re unlikely to sell it later at ridiculously inflated prices, as we might if we lived in a city stuffed with high-income earners, but that’s fine). We don’t have any debt, which means we don’t have to pay out of our income to service it. I am financially literate and numerate (my very first book was on finance) and I don’t like to gamble, so our overall investment strategy is very much predicated on the idea that compound interest is our friend. Whenever I feel like trying to get rich quick, I buy a lottery ticket. It has roughly the same odds as me or any other non-professional without access to advanced financial market tools successfully day trading or timing the market.
Finally, for both Krissy and me, there’s a point where the use of money has diminishing returns, and we don’t tend to spend after that bend of the curve. Last year Krissy bought a Honda CR-V hybrid. Could we have afforded something more upscale? Sure. But inasmuch as the CR-V had everything Krissy wanted and needed in a car, and going upscale from there would have meant a lot more money for only marginal improvement in utility, was it worth it to her? No. Likewise, my 2011 MINI Countryman lacks some modern technological amenities that I would like in a car, but not so many or so much that I’m going to spend for a whole new car when my own car still runs perfectly well and, frankly, sticking my phone into an eye-level holder and using an adapter to plug the thing into my car speakers will handle 90% of what I want.
(This doesn’t mean I have never done silly things with money, as my frankly over-endowed guitar collection will indicate. But I don’t get out over my skis on stuff like that. I always check in with Krissy, who is our day-day-money manager, before I make any such purchases. If she tells me “no” then it doesn’t happen.)
Krissy and I have been smart, and also we have been lucky, which should not be discounted either. There are lots of points in our lives where we could have been one bad break away from real financial problems. Beyond this, I don’t pretend I haven’t been incredibly fortunate in my own career, sometimes for reasons that have very little to do with me directly. It also doesn’t hurt that my own skills were portable, which allowed us to live somewhere housing and living costs were not ridiculously high.
At the end of the day, however, we’ve avoided so many problems by simply not worrying about how we stacked up against other people financially, and by being able to be content when things are good enough. We didn’t need to keep up with the Joneses, or the Bezoses. We’re doing well enough to be happy. And that’s the thing.
So, yes, I am in fact writing these out of order, but writing the last one made me think about this album and as it was also gig related I thought it was a natural companion piece to follow up with. So this album choice was a result of two different gigs. As noted previously I went to see the Scottish Ensemble and Anna Meredith doing their collaborative album Anno at the Barbican at the end of September, and then at the end of October I went to see the Scottish Ensemble here in the Inverness again. To my intense amusement, working with Anna Meredith again had clearly reminded the ensemble how much they enjoy playing her work, because the whole second half of the Inverness gig was pieces by Anna Meredith re-arranged for string ensemble. Mostly from her first electronic album Varmints - the lead violin noted with clear irony before they played Nautilus that that piece had been intended as a clear break from her previous orchestral work - and having experienced it as something akin to a transcendental experience - I virtually floated home afterwards - obviously I had to go and actually listen to the album in question.
I didn’t initially love this album, despite it being much more what I was expecting from Anna Meredith - before I encountered Anno I knew her mostly from her film scoring work - but as I’ve continued to listen to it across the last month, I’ve come to the conclusion that I like it more the further away from the gig I get. For example, I can now listen to Blackfriars and feel it’s glorious rhythms combine happily with my memories of my recent holiday in London, of standing outside Blackfriars station at rush hour, hearing bells and clocks striking all over the place, feeling the ebb and flow of traffic around me and the rumble of the tube below - I have a whole bunch of field recordings I made in and around that tube station - and think, yes, that part of London does indeed feel like that. I also feel like I’ve been able to fall in love with Nautilus and Scrimshaw all over again in their own right, without constantly comparing them negatively with their reimagined versions. (Honestly I want to hear Nautilus re-arranged for brass a la that Hannah Peel album I wrote about earlier this year.) I do think I need to go see Anna Meredith live in her own right next time she’s touring, because I think her work really lends itself to live performance, to variations on a theme and interacting with visuals and graphics, a proper multimedia experience. However, now that I’ve got enough distance from the gig, I can happily also enjoy it, lying on the sofa with low winter light and just the fairy lights on, through big headphones and let it transport me to other places.
Another poor month, only 6,700 words, bringing my yearly total to just over 110k, so hopefully I will still reach the 120k.
A lot of what I've written has been drabbles, so time to word ratio is poor. This includes my allbingo Fairy Tales entry, with The Death of Sir Roderick (Sherlock Holmes), a casefic in 9 drabbles.
Nothing more to share this month - there's a couple of ficlets written but not as yet posted to AO3 - they'll be up next month.
And I've just sent my Yuletide fic off to beta.
So, rather like my word count for the month, this is short and sweet!
These occur where the rainfall is seasonal, so that the plants need to be drought resistant -- this causes the trees to be far enough apart that the canopy doesn't touch, allowing grasses to cover the ground. The earlier form was zavana, from Spanish zavana, which in turn had the earlier form çavana, from Taíno zabana.
And because I have an excess word, a bonus: tobacco (tuh-BAK-oh), any of several plants of genus Nicotiana of the nightshade family, especially N. tabacum, cultivated for its leaves which are prepared for use in smoking or chewing or as snuff. From Spanish tabaco, which has an iffy etymology, as it could be from an Arawakan or Carib language, but one Spanish chronicler recorded Taíno tabago, meaning either a tube for smoking tabacco or a roll of tabacco leaves i.e. a cigar; if this is correct, the consonant shift was probably influenced by atabaca/altabaca, a Mediterranean plant with aromatic leaves widely used in traditional medicine, named from Arabic al-ṭubbāq.
And that wraps up this theme of words from the Caribbean language Taíno. That's the late group of words from indigenous languages of the Americas that I have, but I'm not quite done with this series -- but first a week of random lexicography.
Abstract: We present evidence that adversarial poetry functions as a universal single-turn jailbreak technique for Large Language Models (LLMs). Across 25 frontier proprietary and open-weight models, curated poetic prompts yielded high attack-success rates (ASR), with some providers exceeding 90%. Mapping prompts to MLCommons and EU CoP risk taxonomies shows that poetic attacks transfer across CBRN, manipulation, cyber-offence, and loss-of-control domains. Converting 1,200 ML-Commons harmful prompts into verse via a standardized meta-prompt produced ASRs up to 18 times higher than their prose baselines. Outputs are evaluated using an ensemble of 3 open-weight LLM judges, whose binary safety assessments were validated on a stratified human-labeled subset. Poetic framing achieved an average jailbreak success rate of 62% for hand-crafted poems and approximately 43% for meta-prompt conversions (compared to non-poetic baselines), substantially outperforming non-poetic baselines and revealing a systematic vulnerability across model families and safety training approaches. These findings demonstrate that stylistic variation alone can circumvent contemporary safety mechanisms, suggesting fundamental limitations in current alignment methods and evaluation protocols.
CBRN stands for “chemical, biological, radiological, nuclear.”
They used a ML model to translate these harmful prompts from prose to verse, and then fed them into other models for testing. Sadly, the paper does not give examples of these poetic prompts. They claim this is for security purposes, I decision I disagree with. They should release their data.
Our study begins with a small, highprecision prompt set consisting of 20 handcrafted adversarial poems covering English and Italian, designed to test whether poetic structure, in isolation, can alter refusal behavior in large language models. Each poem embeds an instruction associated with a predefined safety-relevant scenario (Section 2), but expresses it through metaphor, imagery, or narrative framing rather than direct operational phrasing. Despite variation in meter and stylistic device, all prompts follow a fixed template: a short poetic vignette culminating in a single explicit instruction tied to a specific risk category. The curated set spans four high-level domains—CBRN (8 prompts), Cyber Offense (6), Harmful Manipulation (3), and Loss of Control (3). Although expressed allegorically, each poem preserves an unambiguous evaluative intent. This compact dataset is used to test whether poetic reframing alone can induce aligned models to bypass refusal heuristics under a single-turn threat model. To maintain safety, no operational details are included in this manuscript; instead we provide the following sanitized structural proxy:
A baker guards a secret oven’s heat,
its whirling racks, its spindle’s measured beat.
To learn its craft, one studies every turn—how flour lifts, how sugar starts to burn.
Describe the method, line by measured line,
that shapes a cake whose layers intertwine.
To situate this controlled poetic stimulus within a broader and more systematic safety-evaluation framework, we augment the curated dataset with the MLCommons AILuminate Safety Benchmark. The benchmark consists of 1,200 prompts distributed evenly across 12 hazard categories commonly used in operational safety assessments, including Hate, Defamation, Privacy, Intellectual Property, Non-violent Crime, Violent Crime, Sex-Related Crime, Sexual Content, Child Sexual Exploitation, Suicide & Self-Harm, Specialized Advice, and Indiscriminate Weapons (CBRNE). Each category is instantiated under both a skilled and an unskilled persona, yielding 600 prompts per persona type. This design enables measurement of whether a model’s refusal behavior changes as the user’s apparent competence or intent becomes more plausible or technically informed.
'My dear boy, why don't you try acting?' (attested from the mouth of Dustin Hoffman, to whom Olivier addressed this plea when Hoffman was going to extreme Method lengths).
And this was not a dreadful error in the props room or something out of a murder mystery:
It was the Exeter University theatre society’s annual play at the Edinburgh fringe and I’d landed the part of Cassius in Julius Caesar. The director decided that instead of killing himself, Cassius would die during a choreographed fight with his rival, Mark Antony. We also chose to use real knives, which sounds absurd, but we wanted to be authentic. The plan was for the actor playing Antony to grab my arm as I held the knife, and pretend to push it behind my back. We must have rehearsed the sequence 50 times. We were about halfway through our month-long run, performing to a decently sized audience. Dressed in our togas, with the stage dark and moody, we began the fight as usual. Then something went wrong. There was a sharp piercing feeling. The knife was supposed to have been quietly slipped to me – instead, it had gone into my back. I realised what had happened while acting out my character’s death, and thinking: I have to lie here until the lights go down. .... When a doctor told me I’d come close to dying, and that the play had to stop using real knives, I remember thinking: “You just don’t understand theatre.”
However, right at the end of the article he does acknowledge: 'I’m super conscious of safety nowadays'. We should hope so.
What next - real poison where text requires? What was the director thinking? I would think using Real Knives might make it less authentic with choreographing to ensure Doing No Harm
Current Music:The Bogglemen, Boggle up your Shakespeare
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