Q: Wow! You really blasted that guy. But you speak truth. I found your novel to be realistic, well written, and touching, but the quality I like most about it is its humor. Besides the things you wrote about in the book, what are some of your most memorable moments from being a gambler in a casino? You are the real deal.
A: Thanks for the question, though I do not think I fully understand it. Are you asking what my most memorable moments were, like my most memorable, or biggest, wins, or are you asking about the most memorable things I've witnessed?
At any rate here goes.
I saw a crowd gathered around a car in the parking lot one night as I was leaving the casino. There was a guy sprawled out under the car--I think it was a truck or an SUV--I think maybe he was trying to get himself killed. Maybe he had lost too much money that night. Maybe he was just drunk. The police came and dragged him out and arrested him.
I saw a crowd gathered around a car in the parking lot one afternoon as I was leaving the casino. There was a three or four foot alligator under the car (this is Florida--the casino is sort of in a swamp). People were just kind of gathered around looking at the alligator. This incident is not related to the one above.
I saw an elderly couple (I think they were Canadian tourists) hit all four screens on MAX BET and they had no idea what they were doing. They played all four screens as "000000"--they could not figure how to get the machine off zero--they could not figure out how to lower the bet--and the dang thing hit! Totally unfair to the rest of us poor bastards.
I saw a guy begging money from friends to play the Super 7 machine--a game I do not play and do not really understand--and when he had gotten the money together he sat down and hit $124,000 on the first push.
I saw a guy have a heart attack at the poker table. When he came back to the casino like two months later, they gave him the $22.18 stack that he had left at the table.
I was at the table when a guy hit back to back royal flushes. Amazing! A-freaking-mazing! I don't think that has ever happened anywhere before on the planet earth! Amazing! The jackpots were worth like $20,000 combined. The winner tipped the dealer like ten dollars. Ten measly freaking dollars. You could see it on the dealer's face--disappointment. What can you do? Some players are cheap bastards.
An Asian guy we used to call "Bruce Lee" because he did really look like Bruce Lee was so broke from gambling and losing that he didn't even own a car and had to walk to the casino everyday to play poker with us. (I think I heard somewhere that because of his gambling, he had had his car reposessed.) Anyway, he got lucky one day and hit a Royal Flush with a big $30,000 jackpot. The first thing Bruce Lee did? He got up and went across the street to a buy-here-pay-here lot and paid $4000 cash for a little Hyundai. Then he came back to the table and played all night. Now he had a car. No more walking for Bruce Lee.
This guy we all knew came in and blew his mortgage. He was on his way to pay his mortgage, which was already like three months in arears, and he stopped into the casino and blew it. Now he's crying and moaning and begging us. Well, we're all gamblers. We know how it is. So we pitch together and the most we come up with is like a couple hundred dollars. He needs at least $1500 for his mortgage. It's not that we're cheap. He's begging from us at a bad time. We're all on like a bad streak. So the only thing he can do is take the couple hundred we gave him and try his luck in the machines again. So he plays the machines and he hits $1500 in a little jackpot. Thank God. Now he can pay his mortgage. While he's waiting to be cashed out. He puts twenty dollars in the machine right next to his and hits again. $500! While he's waiting to be cashed out of these first two lucky machines, he puts some money in the next machine in line and hits again! Like $500-600! Amazing. Three machines in a row! When they finally cashed him out, he was about to put some money in another machine, and we were all watching anxiously to see what was going to happen, some of us chanting, "Lucky money never loses. Lucky money never loses," and he stops. He paid us all back and left. He said, "I better go pay my mortgage while I can." We were all shocked. Shocked! We were all grumbling, "What an idiot! How can he leave when he's hot? What a freaking idiot!"
We're playing poker one day at the casino. The Hold'em bad beat jackpot is up to like $160,000--which means the bad beat loser gets $80,000, the bad beat winner gets half that at $40,000, not bad, and the other six players at the table split the final $40,000, which is close to like 7 grand each--not bad for just sitting at the table. We are playing at the table for like 12 hours straight, hoping for that bad beat to hit. Suddenly the pit boss announces "BAD BEAT!" Shouts of joy go up. We look around--our table didn't win, so we want to see which table in the casino, which lucky players, hit the bad beat. Would you believe it was freaking world famous linebacker from the freaking Miami Dolphins who won the bad beat? And the table was full of really big guys who looked like maybe his Dolphins teammates. Lucky bastards. A table full of professional football players. They're already rich and now they win the bad beat. A-freaking-mazing!
There's lots more, but I can't go on. That last one really got to me. I'm not saying Zack and the boys didn't deserve the money, but the rich just keep getting richer. The rest of us just donate.
Thanks,
Preston
At the Pen Festival 2010
© PEN American Center/Susan Horgan. All rights reserved. Please contact media@pen.org for usage and rights.
Showing posts with label luck. Show all posts
Showing posts with label luck. Show all posts
December 28, 2009
July 19, 2008
Luck . . . Again
Q: What lucky or coincidental things have happened to you in your life and maybe helped you to write you novel ALL OR NOTHING.
A: Please let this be the last luck/fate question. Please.
I believe in skill, not luck. I do not believe that things are pre-ordained or predestined and will not believe until someone shows me some hard evidence or makes a more convincing argument than any I have heard so far.
That being said . . .
1) At work, my office was the office of novelist James Lee Burke when he taught at my college. People are always saying to me, "What a coincidence. That is the same desk James Lee Burke sat at. You are destined for great things."
2) As concerns poker, I seem to have a lucky seat--seat 3. I have caught seven royal flushes in seat 3. Seat 7 is also lucky for me. I have caught 4 royal flushes in seat 7. In a ten-handed Texas Hold'em or Omaha Hi-lo game, both seat 3 and seat 7 are three seats away from the dealer. As far as I can recall, I have never caught a royal flush in any other seat.
3) I seem to have had a lucky friend. While at the casino in the swamp one night, I was losing my shirt. This guy walked in, sat down at the table, and said to me, "You look like you are having bad luck. I'm gonna give you some luck." Players often joke like that to each other. I few minutes later, I hit a royal flush. It had a nice jackpot attahced to it, so I tipped all of the players at the table as well as the dealer. My new lucky friend said to me, "I brought you luck. You should tip me more than you did the rest of them." I laughed and gave him another hundred.
The very next night, while at the casino up in Broward, I was losing my shirt. The lucky guy I had met down in the swamp came in. He was not seated at my table this time, but at a table next to mine. In fact, we were back to back. I joked ove my shoulder to him, "If you are so lucky, bring me some more luck." He joked back, "I'm doing my best, bro." A few minutes later, I caught another royal flush. When they paid me the jackpot, I tipped everybody at my table and then turned around and tipped my lucky friend, too.
Every time we saw each other, we would joke around about how he brought me luck. It was kind of funny, really. And on nights when he was in the casino, I tended to win. I made note of this . . . coincidence. One night as I was leaving the casino, I found him hanging out in the parking lot. He had lost all of his money, he was afraid to go home to his wife, he had bills to play--blah, blah, blah--typical gambler spiel. What he really wanted was money to gamble with.
I had won a couple hundred that night and so I split it with him, but he said, "I am your good luck, bro. You should give me more money. Give me everything you won because I need it. Then go back inside and use the luck you get from me to win something really big."
This was complete BS, and I knew it, but I had been lucky with him. So I gave him all of my winnings from that night, then went back inside and sat down at the poker table. As I recall it, I could not seem to LOSE a hand that night. Before I knew it, my chips amounted to way more than the $200 or so that I had given him. Then a few hours later I hit a royal flush for about ten grand.
When I saw my lucky friend again a few weeks later, I pulled out a few hundreds and stuck them in his hand. He was suprised because he had not asked me for anything. He said, "What's this for?" I told him about the royal flush I had hit the night I had met him in the parking lot.
We laughed and laughed. "What do you think it means?" he asked.
"Well, I don't believe in luck, so I have no idea what it means," I told him.
And he said, "Well, believe this. I am moving out of town. I got a new job up in New York. I'm leaving tomorrow. Let's see how you do when I'm gone."
I laughed and told him, "I'll do just fine."
We slapped five and I never saw him again. I guess he moved to New York.
I also have never hit another royal flush.
4) After my divorce, I told my mother that I would never marry again. I had just started my new job that week. I had left the public schools for the community college. I was looking forward to making money and being single for the rest of my life. What need had I of marriage? I already had two kids from my ex, and I did not desire any further "marital torment," as I described it to my mother. I meant it. I was adamant about this thing.
The next day at work, my new boss, who, to my delight, seemed to like me very much, asked me to do some extra work (over time, more money!) in the writing lab at our satellite campus in Hialeah. Well, I was going through a divorce and needed the money, so I said, eagerly, "Yes."
So after work, I went to do my part-time night gig at the Hialeah Center, and upon meeting the woman who ran the lab felt a bit of the old lightning bolt. When I got home that night, I told my mother, "I just met the woman I am going to marry."
My mother could only nod her head, smiling at her fickle son.
Fickle, my big fat butt. My wife and I will have been married seventeen years in October.
In one of my many chats with my colleague and fellow writer poet/novelist Geoffrey Philp, I mentioned how I met my wife. I said, "If Elaine hadn't sent me over there, we never would have met."
And he said, "Elaine put me and my wife together too. She was in charge of the labs back then and assigned us to work together."
I forget who our other colleague was, but she overheard us and exclaimed, "Elaine put me and my husband together, too!"
5)
This is the one that makes me sad, but here goes. My mother passed away a year ago.
On the anniversary of her passing, I kept seeing three 7s. I saw them on a license plate. I saw them on a billboard. I saw them painted on the side of a truck. Then I even saw three Zs on something, but the bottom was obscured and the three Zs looked more like three 7s.
That night in the Play-4, the number was 7773, which was mother mother's phone number.
The next night 1972 came up boxed in the Play-4. My brother Anthony, who was not at the funeral and for all intents and purpoes is estranged from the family, was born in 1972.
I told my other brothers about it. It freaked them out.
6) One day I was playing Hold'em, and my cards were bad. Bad. For about three hours I was getting nothing but crappy hole cards. So I said to myself, I don't care what kind of crap I get in the hole, I am going to play the next hand. When I got my next hand, I looked at my hole cards: 2, 9. More crap. But I kept my promise and I played bad cards. The flop came 2, 2, 2. This meant that I now had four 2s, an unbeatable hand. Amazing.
7) I once picked up a hitchhiker during a very bad storm. She was a tall young woman with a dainty umbrella. When she got into my car, she said, "Do you smoke?"
I said, "No."
She said, "Do you get high? You mind if I get high?"
What kind of girl was this? She looked to be maybe 16. She had tattoos and piercings all over her face and arms. Her hair was cut short like a man's. As the rain and wind pelted thec car, I said, "No. I do not get high, and you will not get high in my car, either. Ma'am, would you just tell me where you'd like me to drop you off."
"No problem," she smirked, brushing me off as old school, out of touch, a square, a geezer. "The house is in Opa-Locka. You know where that is, pops?"
"Yes."
I knew where it was. Opa-Locka is not the safest neighborhood in Miami. In fact, it is reputed to be one of the most dangerous. I grew up in Opa-Locka back when it wasn't so bad.
When she gave me the address, I was in for another surprise. It was my old address! This girl lived in my old house.
I told her this, and her attitude changed. She became friendlier, more respectful. I told her which room used to be mine and she said, "That's my room now. Me and my little sister's!"
When we got to her house, the rain had abated, and we were both in for another surprise--she more than I. I spotted a man standing at the open door of her house and asked her who he was. She said, "My dad."
But he looked familiart. A little taller, a little stouter, but the same sleepy eyes and fat cheeks. I told her, "His name is __________ __________, right?"
She said, "Yes! How do you know him?"
"We were in fourth grade together. We sat next to each other in fourth grade."
The tattooed girl said to me as I was getting out of the car to go greet my old buddy, "Don't tell him what I asked you about getting high, okay? Please don't tell him."
I winked at her. It would be our secret.
A: Please let this be the last luck/fate question. Please.
I believe in skill, not luck. I do not believe that things are pre-ordained or predestined and will not believe until someone shows me some hard evidence or makes a more convincing argument than any I have heard so far.
That being said . . .
1) At work, my office was the office of novelist James Lee Burke when he taught at my college. People are always saying to me, "What a coincidence. That is the same desk James Lee Burke sat at. You are destined for great things."
2) As concerns poker, I seem to have a lucky seat--seat 3. I have caught seven royal flushes in seat 3. Seat 7 is also lucky for me. I have caught 4 royal flushes in seat 7. In a ten-handed Texas Hold'em or Omaha Hi-lo game, both seat 3 and seat 7 are three seats away from the dealer. As far as I can recall, I have never caught a royal flush in any other seat.
3) I seem to have had a lucky friend. While at the casino in the swamp one night, I was losing my shirt. This guy walked in, sat down at the table, and said to me, "You look like you are having bad luck. I'm gonna give you some luck." Players often joke like that to each other. I few minutes later, I hit a royal flush. It had a nice jackpot attahced to it, so I tipped all of the players at the table as well as the dealer. My new lucky friend said to me, "I brought you luck. You should tip me more than you did the rest of them." I laughed and gave him another hundred.
The very next night, while at the casino up in Broward, I was losing my shirt. The lucky guy I had met down in the swamp came in. He was not seated at my table this time, but at a table next to mine. In fact, we were back to back. I joked ove my shoulder to him, "If you are so lucky, bring me some more luck." He joked back, "I'm doing my best, bro." A few minutes later, I caught another royal flush. When they paid me the jackpot, I tipped everybody at my table and then turned around and tipped my lucky friend, too.
Every time we saw each other, we would joke around about how he brought me luck. It was kind of funny, really. And on nights when he was in the casino, I tended to win. I made note of this . . . coincidence. One night as I was leaving the casino, I found him hanging out in the parking lot. He had lost all of his money, he was afraid to go home to his wife, he had bills to play--blah, blah, blah--typical gambler spiel. What he really wanted was money to gamble with.
I had won a couple hundred that night and so I split it with him, but he said, "I am your good luck, bro. You should give me more money. Give me everything you won because I need it. Then go back inside and use the luck you get from me to win something really big."
This was complete BS, and I knew it, but I had been lucky with him. So I gave him all of my winnings from that night, then went back inside and sat down at the poker table. As I recall it, I could not seem to LOSE a hand that night. Before I knew it, my chips amounted to way more than the $200 or so that I had given him. Then a few hours later I hit a royal flush for about ten grand.
When I saw my lucky friend again a few weeks later, I pulled out a few hundreds and stuck them in his hand. He was suprised because he had not asked me for anything. He said, "What's this for?" I told him about the royal flush I had hit the night I had met him in the parking lot.
We laughed and laughed. "What do you think it means?" he asked.
"Well, I don't believe in luck, so I have no idea what it means," I told him.
And he said, "Well, believe this. I am moving out of town. I got a new job up in New York. I'm leaving tomorrow. Let's see how you do when I'm gone."
I laughed and told him, "I'll do just fine."
We slapped five and I never saw him again. I guess he moved to New York.
I also have never hit another royal flush.
4) After my divorce, I told my mother that I would never marry again. I had just started my new job that week. I had left the public schools for the community college. I was looking forward to making money and being single for the rest of my life. What need had I of marriage? I already had two kids from my ex, and I did not desire any further "marital torment," as I described it to my mother. I meant it. I was adamant about this thing.
The next day at work, my new boss, who, to my delight, seemed to like me very much, asked me to do some extra work (over time, more money!) in the writing lab at our satellite campus in Hialeah. Well, I was going through a divorce and needed the money, so I said, eagerly, "Yes."
So after work, I went to do my part-time night gig at the Hialeah Center, and upon meeting the woman who ran the lab felt a bit of the old lightning bolt. When I got home that night, I told my mother, "I just met the woman I am going to marry."
My mother could only nod her head, smiling at her fickle son.
Fickle, my big fat butt. My wife and I will have been married seventeen years in October.
In one of my many chats with my colleague and fellow writer poet/novelist Geoffrey Philp, I mentioned how I met my wife. I said, "If Elaine hadn't sent me over there, we never would have met."
And he said, "Elaine put me and my wife together too. She was in charge of the labs back then and assigned us to work together."
I forget who our other colleague was, but she overheard us and exclaimed, "Elaine put me and my husband together, too!"
5)
This is the one that makes me sad, but here goes. My mother passed away a year ago.
On the anniversary of her passing, I kept seeing three 7s. I saw them on a license plate. I saw them on a billboard. I saw them painted on the side of a truck. Then I even saw three Zs on something, but the bottom was obscured and the three Zs looked more like three 7s.
That night in the Play-4, the number was 7773, which was mother mother's phone number.
The next night 1972 came up boxed in the Play-4. My brother Anthony, who was not at the funeral and for all intents and purpoes is estranged from the family, was born in 1972.
I told my other brothers about it. It freaked them out.
6) One day I was playing Hold'em, and my cards were bad. Bad. For about three hours I was getting nothing but crappy hole cards. So I said to myself, I don't care what kind of crap I get in the hole, I am going to play the next hand. When I got my next hand, I looked at my hole cards: 2, 9. More crap. But I kept my promise and I played bad cards. The flop came 2, 2, 2. This meant that I now had four 2s, an unbeatable hand. Amazing.
7) I once picked up a hitchhiker during a very bad storm. She was a tall young woman with a dainty umbrella. When she got into my car, she said, "Do you smoke?"
I said, "No."
She said, "Do you get high? You mind if I get high?"
What kind of girl was this? She looked to be maybe 16. She had tattoos and piercings all over her face and arms. Her hair was cut short like a man's. As the rain and wind pelted thec car, I said, "No. I do not get high, and you will not get high in my car, either. Ma'am, would you just tell me where you'd like me to drop you off."
"No problem," she smirked, brushing me off as old school, out of touch, a square, a geezer. "The house is in Opa-Locka. You know where that is, pops?"
"Yes."
I knew where it was. Opa-Locka is not the safest neighborhood in Miami. In fact, it is reputed to be one of the most dangerous. I grew up in Opa-Locka back when it wasn't so bad.
When she gave me the address, I was in for another surprise. It was my old address! This girl lived in my old house.
I told her this, and her attitude changed. She became friendlier, more respectful. I told her which room used to be mine and she said, "That's my room now. Me and my little sister's!"
When we got to her house, the rain had abated, and we were both in for another surprise--she more than I. I spotted a man standing at the open door of her house and asked her who he was. She said, "My dad."
But he looked familiart. A little taller, a little stouter, but the same sleepy eyes and fat cheeks. I told her, "His name is __________ __________, right?"
She said, "Yes! How do you know him?"
"We were in fourth grade together. We sat next to each other in fourth grade."
The tattooed girl said to me as I was getting out of the car to go greet my old buddy, "Don't tell him what I asked you about getting high, okay? Please don't tell him."
I winked at her. It would be our secret.
July 13, 2008
A Page from the Diary of Fate 2
Man oh man, have I been getting some heat for my blog on luck!
Some emailers are saying "what about my lucky hat?" "What about how I met my wife? If I hadn't been at that party that night . . ." "What about Bob Marley? If he hadn't been a welder on the same job with rising singer Desmond Dekker when Desmond got hit in the eye and couldn't peform that night at the show, he may never have gotten his shot." "What if I had folded that night? I had nothing but 2,7. But I kept it, I did not fold, and the flop came 2,2,2. I won my first million that night because of that good luck."
Let me put it another way. There is no luck that controls things. There is only what we call "luck" after a thing has happened. In short, there is only "what will be will be."
Think of it like this. There are two giant wheels spinning independently of each other. Each wheel has a thousand points of contact. Most of these points of contact have CRAP marked on them. In fact, Only 20 out of a possible 1000 have GOOD STUFF marked on them. If your two wheels spin for you and you get GOOD STUFF on BOTH wheels when they stop, then you win. Most of the time you will get CRAP/CRAP. You will often get CRAP on one wheel and GOOD STUFF on the other. Often you will get GOOD STUFF on one wheel and CRAP on the other. It is very exciting, but you do not win. Close, but no cigar. Sometimes you will get the magical, wonderful, amazing GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF. When this happens, we say that you are lucky.
Well, yes. You are lucky because it was your turn to spin when the wheel came to GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF. You did not earn it through hard work. It was simply your turn and the wheel was ready to hit. You did not deserve to win it any more than anyone else who had played and lost. You are called "lucky" and you feel as though you have been chosen by the gods, you and only you. But luck only means "what will be will be," not a pre-ordainment. Luck is not a compliment to your talent and skill--it is a comment on what happened.
But you will say, "There were only 20 winners on each wheel out of a thousand. The odds of winning were therefore 400 out of a million, or 1 out of 2,500." Yes the odds were great, and so then luck should mean, "I have no special quality, I am simply the one who spun when the wheel hit. I did nothing to earn this but spin as did all of the others before me."
But we take luck to be a quality attached to the person--he is lucky. We argue Backwards and say, "But who put him in that spot at that time? Who did that? Who made him play on this certain day? Who set the wheels to hit just when he was playing."
We try to make luck a function of preordination. We anthropormorphize luck. Luck is a creature, a sentient being that controls what will be. We make luck a deity, a god.
But luck is not a god. Luck is, actually, the absence of a god.
Consider the following exchange:
1
"So John, congratulations on your tournament victory. You are quite a skilled player."
"No, Roger, I am not skilled at all. I hardly even understand the game. It was all luck."
2
"So John, congratulations on your tournament victory. I could tell from the way you played that you have no great understanding of the game. Clearly God was on your side, guiding your play."
"No, Roger, I doubt God had anything to do with it. I was just lucky."
Luck is the absence of skill or a god. Luck is a factor of probability. Luck, in fact, is about science.
There is a mathematical formula to represent how often our two spinning wheels will land on GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF. If you spin 2500 times, you are likely to hit GOODS STUFF/GOOD STUFF once. This does not mean that you will hit it. It simply means that we can look at every spin of the two wheels and count how many times GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF shows up, and that number is 1 out of 2500.
How do gamblers use probability?
Let's say the odds of hitting a royal flush are 1 out of 250,000 (I don't have the numbers in front of me, but this ratio is not too far off); this means that if you are holding a JACK, QUEEN, KING, and ACE of hearts against an opponent who is betting like crazy and you suspect he has a full house, you should fold your cards. Why not wait for the TEN of hearts and your royal flush? Because the odds are pretty good that you will not get it.
Now a bad gambler, or a brave one, or a desperate one, or one who is so rich that losing money means nothing to him/her will stay in the hand hoping to catch that TEN of hearts to complete the royal flush. And sometimes they do catch it.
To date, I have caught 11 royal flushes. This is no testament to my poker-playing skill; I was at different times a brave gambler (I knew the odds, but I defied them), a desperate gambler (I knew the odds, but I was so broke I had no choice but to play and pray that I won so that I could get my money back), a bad gambler (I had no idea what the odds were and no idea that a good gambler would have folded in this situation).
A poker player's skill comes from knowing the odds of catching this hand or that, and knowing the tells and tendencies of the other players at the game so as to determine whether they are bluffing or not.
See, most winning hands of poker played at a table with "good" players are never revealed. A player who gets ACE/ACE in the hole will bet a certain way and usually the other good players will fold, sensing he has something very strong--it matters not that the player holding the crappy 2,7 actually would have won if he had stayed in because the flop, turn, and river cards were going to be 7, 7, 7. Only a bad player would stay in with crap like that--and if the bad player stays in, he/she will beat the ACE/ACE and win. But the other good players at the table will grumble disparagingly, "He/she got lucky. What a bad player. No skill at all. Just blind luck."
Not God, not skill, not fate--just blind luck. Good gamblers don't like luck very much. Luck is what the amateurs need to beat the better players.
Luck is not a good thing. Luck is an un-earned scientific thing that the skilled have to overcome when matched up with the un-skilled.
But what about Bob Marley?
Okay, let's leave our hypothetical casino for a moment, though the two giant wheels are spinning out here in the real world too.
The story as told to me goes like this: A young Bob Marley was working as a welder alongside another young singer Desmond Dekker (REMEMBER THAT FAMOUS SONG, The Israelites?), who had an upcoming gig that night but hurt his eye so badly that day on the job that he could not perform. Bob Marley piped up something like, "Don't worry, boss. I can sing too. I can do it." The rest is history.
Here is a case where preparation, hard work, and skill meet opportunity (or mathematical probability). Call it luck if you will, but I will argue that this is no deity pulling the strings. Marley, though a young man, had been singing for years and mastering his craft. He took the job as a welder so that he could eat, but he was in his mind a singer looking for an opportunity.
In life, opportunities are not so numerous as lack of opportunity, but they do exist. Let's say there will be 20 opportunities on a spinning wheel of 1000.
If that spinning wheel offers an opportunity to, say, the non-musical Preston L. Allen, that is like a GOOD STUFF/CRAP spin. It can't help me. I'm a writer, not a singer. I help my co-worker Desmond Dekker find some ice to put on his eye, and I keep on welding. That's it.
But if that spinning wheel lands for Bob Marley, then we have a GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF hit and Marley will make the best of this opportunity. He had nothing to do with this opportunity, true, but he can take advantage of it because he has been preparing most of his life for it.
I know, I know, you have objections:
You say, but what if Dekker hadn't hurt his eye? Marley, I'm sure, would have kept spinning that wheel. Maybe he strikes up a friendship with Dekker and breaks into the business that way.
But what if Marley had not taken a job as a welder? He would have taken a job as busboy and kept right on spinning--opportunities exist.
And Marley will find one of those opportunities, and if he never finds one, he will become a very talented, very avante garde teacher of music in Jamaica, unheard of by most, but beloved by his students, especially those with a little rebellion in their blood.
We can't always create or find opportunities, but we can work hard on our craft, work hard at improving our skills. Then when opportunity meets preparation, we are ready to rock.
At that point, you can call it luck, fate, God, or whatever you will as you soar to the top.
The big wheels just keep on spinning.
Preston
Some emailers are saying "what about my lucky hat?" "What about how I met my wife? If I hadn't been at that party that night . . ." "What about Bob Marley? If he hadn't been a welder on the same job with rising singer Desmond Dekker when Desmond got hit in the eye and couldn't peform that night at the show, he may never have gotten his shot." "What if I had folded that night? I had nothing but 2,7. But I kept it, I did not fold, and the flop came 2,2,2. I won my first million that night because of that good luck."
Let me put it another way. There is no luck that controls things. There is only what we call "luck" after a thing has happened. In short, there is only "what will be will be."
Think of it like this. There are two giant wheels spinning independently of each other. Each wheel has a thousand points of contact. Most of these points of contact have CRAP marked on them. In fact, Only 20 out of a possible 1000 have GOOD STUFF marked on them. If your two wheels spin for you and you get GOOD STUFF on BOTH wheels when they stop, then you win. Most of the time you will get CRAP/CRAP. You will often get CRAP on one wheel and GOOD STUFF on the other. Often you will get GOOD STUFF on one wheel and CRAP on the other. It is very exciting, but you do not win. Close, but no cigar. Sometimes you will get the magical, wonderful, amazing GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF. When this happens, we say that you are lucky.
Well, yes. You are lucky because it was your turn to spin when the wheel came to GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF. You did not earn it through hard work. It was simply your turn and the wheel was ready to hit. You did not deserve to win it any more than anyone else who had played and lost. You are called "lucky" and you feel as though you have been chosen by the gods, you and only you. But luck only means "what will be will be," not a pre-ordainment. Luck is not a compliment to your talent and skill--it is a comment on what happened.
But you will say, "There were only 20 winners on each wheel out of a thousand. The odds of winning were therefore 400 out of a million, or 1 out of 2,500." Yes the odds were great, and so then luck should mean, "I have no special quality, I am simply the one who spun when the wheel hit. I did nothing to earn this but spin as did all of the others before me."
But we take luck to be a quality attached to the person--he is lucky. We argue Backwards and say, "But who put him in that spot at that time? Who did that? Who made him play on this certain day? Who set the wheels to hit just when he was playing."
We try to make luck a function of preordination. We anthropormorphize luck. Luck is a creature, a sentient being that controls what will be. We make luck a deity, a god.
But luck is not a god. Luck is, actually, the absence of a god.
Consider the following exchange:
1
"So John, congratulations on your tournament victory. You are quite a skilled player."
"No, Roger, I am not skilled at all. I hardly even understand the game. It was all luck."
2
"So John, congratulations on your tournament victory. I could tell from the way you played that you have no great understanding of the game. Clearly God was on your side, guiding your play."
"No, Roger, I doubt God had anything to do with it. I was just lucky."
Luck is the absence of skill or a god. Luck is a factor of probability. Luck, in fact, is about science.
There is a mathematical formula to represent how often our two spinning wheels will land on GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF. If you spin 2500 times, you are likely to hit GOODS STUFF/GOOD STUFF once. This does not mean that you will hit it. It simply means that we can look at every spin of the two wheels and count how many times GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF shows up, and that number is 1 out of 2500.
How do gamblers use probability?
Let's say the odds of hitting a royal flush are 1 out of 250,000 (I don't have the numbers in front of me, but this ratio is not too far off); this means that if you are holding a JACK, QUEEN, KING, and ACE of hearts against an opponent who is betting like crazy and you suspect he has a full house, you should fold your cards. Why not wait for the TEN of hearts and your royal flush? Because the odds are pretty good that you will not get it.
Now a bad gambler, or a brave one, or a desperate one, or one who is so rich that losing money means nothing to him/her will stay in the hand hoping to catch that TEN of hearts to complete the royal flush. And sometimes they do catch it.
To date, I have caught 11 royal flushes. This is no testament to my poker-playing skill; I was at different times a brave gambler (I knew the odds, but I defied them), a desperate gambler (I knew the odds, but I was so broke I had no choice but to play and pray that I won so that I could get my money back), a bad gambler (I had no idea what the odds were and no idea that a good gambler would have folded in this situation).
A poker player's skill comes from knowing the odds of catching this hand or that, and knowing the tells and tendencies of the other players at the game so as to determine whether they are bluffing or not.
See, most winning hands of poker played at a table with "good" players are never revealed. A player who gets ACE/ACE in the hole will bet a certain way and usually the other good players will fold, sensing he has something very strong--it matters not that the player holding the crappy 2,7 actually would have won if he had stayed in because the flop, turn, and river cards were going to be 7, 7, 7. Only a bad player would stay in with crap like that--and if the bad player stays in, he/she will beat the ACE/ACE and win. But the other good players at the table will grumble disparagingly, "He/she got lucky. What a bad player. No skill at all. Just blind luck."
Not God, not skill, not fate--just blind luck. Good gamblers don't like luck very much. Luck is what the amateurs need to beat the better players.
Luck is not a good thing. Luck is an un-earned scientific thing that the skilled have to overcome when matched up with the un-skilled.
But what about Bob Marley?
Okay, let's leave our hypothetical casino for a moment, though the two giant wheels are spinning out here in the real world too.
The story as told to me goes like this: A young Bob Marley was working as a welder alongside another young singer Desmond Dekker (REMEMBER THAT FAMOUS SONG, The Israelites?), who had an upcoming gig that night but hurt his eye so badly that day on the job that he could not perform. Bob Marley piped up something like, "Don't worry, boss. I can sing too. I can do it." The rest is history.
Here is a case where preparation, hard work, and skill meet opportunity (or mathematical probability). Call it luck if you will, but I will argue that this is no deity pulling the strings. Marley, though a young man, had been singing for years and mastering his craft. He took the job as a welder so that he could eat, but he was in his mind a singer looking for an opportunity.
In life, opportunities are not so numerous as lack of opportunity, but they do exist. Let's say there will be 20 opportunities on a spinning wheel of 1000.
If that spinning wheel offers an opportunity to, say, the non-musical Preston L. Allen, that is like a GOOD STUFF/CRAP spin. It can't help me. I'm a writer, not a singer. I help my co-worker Desmond Dekker find some ice to put on his eye, and I keep on welding. That's it.
But if that spinning wheel lands for Bob Marley, then we have a GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF hit and Marley will make the best of this opportunity. He had nothing to do with this opportunity, true, but he can take advantage of it because he has been preparing most of his life for it.
I know, I know, you have objections:
You say, but what if Dekker hadn't hurt his eye? Marley, I'm sure, would have kept spinning that wheel. Maybe he strikes up a friendship with Dekker and breaks into the business that way.
But what if Marley had not taken a job as a welder? He would have taken a job as busboy and kept right on spinning--opportunities exist.
And Marley will find one of those opportunities, and if he never finds one, he will become a very talented, very avante garde teacher of music in Jamaica, unheard of by most, but beloved by his students, especially those with a little rebellion in their blood.
We can't always create or find opportunities, but we can work hard on our craft, work hard at improving our skills. Then when opportunity meets preparation, we are ready to rock.
At that point, you can call it luck, fate, God, or whatever you will as you soar to the top.
The big wheels just keep on spinning.
Preston
July 7, 2008
You Are P
Q: Your blog is hilarious. You sound just like the character P in your novel. You are P, admit it.
A: I am not. I swear it. Seriously.
Preston
A: I am not. I swear it. Seriously.
Preston
Are You Anti Gambling?
Q: Are you anti-gambling? Do you wish there were no casinos? In your other blog, you attack the idea of a state-run lottery.
A: Am I anti-gambling?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
No, I am an addict. Therefore, I am pro-gambling. I wish I could gamble. I wish I were gambling right now. The problem is that gambling, for me, is destructive. [[Is there such a thing as "constructive" gambling?]] Therefore, I pray that I never ever see the inside of a casino again. I pray this everyday.
But the state-run lottery . . . well, look at it like this--
If you are a crack dealer and you need to make more money, all you have to do is raise the price of crack.
If you run a state lottery and you need to make more money, all you have to do is raise the price of gambling: create numbers-games and scratch-off games that take in more money and pay out less.
Like, for example, add $2 or $3 bucks to the price of the lottery ticket with the enticement that if the player wins, he/she will get an extra 10 or 25 million dollars added on to the prize [[the 1 in 13 million odds to win doesn't change at all, just the price to play--from 1 buck to 2 or 3 bucks, suckers!]]
If you are a crack dealer and you need to make more money, all you have to do is find more customers: children are the future--pass out free samples at the junior high.
If you run a state lottery and you need to make more money, all you have to do is find more addicted customers: children are the future--advertise in front of the kiddies--as soon as they turn 18, they're as addicted already as their parents.
If you are a crack dealer and you need to make more money, all you have to do is make your old customers increase their consumption of the product: I have no idea how a crack dealer would accomplish this feat. But a state running a lottery--
If you run a state lottery and you need to make more money, all you have to do is make your old addicted customers increase their consumption of the product: create games that are more addictive (check out the newest scratch-offs--they are not only expensive but they have lots and lots of bells and whistles to keep you excited as you scratch); create games that can be played more often (now the Cash-3 and Play-4 can be drawn TWICE a day--Fantasy 5 can be drawn 7 times a week--Mega Money can be drawn twice a week--and the lottery is also played twice a week.
Get the picture?
To earn millions in revenue, the state is pushing a drug called gambling on its addicted citizens--and pushing it hard. But the same state is also spending millions to "cure" its addicted citizens.
But then the same state is finding ways to increase the number of addicted citizens and also to make them MORE addicted because the state needs to earn more revenue.
This is crazy. Somewhere in there is a dog endlessly chasing its tail. Somebody stop him please!
Figure out what you are, oh great state. Are you my pusher or are you my saviour?
I am a sick degenerate gambler and so I love the lottery with every ounce of my being, but even a wastrel such as I can see that the state should be in the business of curing those plagued with a vice, and not in the business of increasing their dependence on it.
And people, please stop asking me gambling questions. I'm drooling all over my good shirt.
Preston
A: Am I anti-gambling?
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
No, I am an addict. Therefore, I am pro-gambling. I wish I could gamble. I wish I were gambling right now. The problem is that gambling, for me, is destructive. [[Is there such a thing as "constructive" gambling?]] Therefore, I pray that I never ever see the inside of a casino again. I pray this everyday.
But the state-run lottery . . . well, look at it like this--
If you are a crack dealer and you need to make more money, all you have to do is raise the price of crack.
If you run a state lottery and you need to make more money, all you have to do is raise the price of gambling: create numbers-games and scratch-off games that take in more money and pay out less.
Like, for example, add $2 or $3 bucks to the price of the lottery ticket with the enticement that if the player wins, he/she will get an extra 10 or 25 million dollars added on to the prize [[the 1 in 13 million odds to win doesn't change at all, just the price to play--from 1 buck to 2 or 3 bucks, suckers!]]
If you are a crack dealer and you need to make more money, all you have to do is find more customers: children are the future--pass out free samples at the junior high.
If you run a state lottery and you need to make more money, all you have to do is find more addicted customers: children are the future--advertise in front of the kiddies--as soon as they turn 18, they're as addicted already as their parents.
If you are a crack dealer and you need to make more money, all you have to do is make your old customers increase their consumption of the product: I have no idea how a crack dealer would accomplish this feat. But a state running a lottery--
If you run a state lottery and you need to make more money, all you have to do is make your old addicted customers increase their consumption of the product: create games that are more addictive (check out the newest scratch-offs--they are not only expensive but they have lots and lots of bells and whistles to keep you excited as you scratch); create games that can be played more often (now the Cash-3 and Play-4 can be drawn TWICE a day--Fantasy 5 can be drawn 7 times a week--Mega Money can be drawn twice a week--and the lottery is also played twice a week.
Get the picture?
To earn millions in revenue, the state is pushing a drug called gambling on its addicted citizens--and pushing it hard. But the same state is also spending millions to "cure" its addicted citizens.
But then the same state is finding ways to increase the number of addicted citizens and also to make them MORE addicted because the state needs to earn more revenue.
This is crazy. Somewhere in there is a dog endlessly chasing its tail. Somebody stop him please!
Figure out what you are, oh great state. Are you my pusher or are you my saviour?
I am a sick degenerate gambler and so I love the lottery with every ounce of my being, but even a wastrel such as I can see that the state should be in the business of curing those plagued with a vice, and not in the business of increasing their dependence on it.
And people, please stop asking me gambling questions. I'm drooling all over my good shirt.
Preston
July 6, 2008
A Direct Appeal
Thanks to all of you who have emailed me questions and comments. I like the direction this blog has taken, and I owe it all to you.
Now I'd like to make a direct appeal: please go out and purchase a copy of my book ALL OR NOTHING and write a review for me on Amazon.com. It really is a great book. I promise you will enjoy it.
The book has received rave reviews from the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, Kirkus Review, and Library Journal among others.
Get your copy today! Support living, breathing writers!
Thanks,
Preston
______________________________
New York Times: "As with Frederick and Steven Barthelme's disarming gambling memoir, Double Down (1999), the chief virtue of All or Nothing is its facility in enlightening nonbelievers, showing how this addiction follows recognizable patterns of rush and crash, but with a twist—the buzz is in the process, not the result. 'That's what people don't understand about gamblers,' P explains. 'We gamble to gamble. We play to play. We don't play to win.'
"As a cartographer of autodegradation, Allen takes his place on a continuum that begins, perhaps, with Dostoyevsky’s “Gambler,” courses through Malcolm Lowry’s “Under the Volcano,” William S. Burroughs’s “Junky,” the collected works of Charles Bukowski and Hubert Selby Jr., and persists in countless novels and (occasionally fabricated) memoirs of our puritanical, therapized present. Like Dostoyevsky, Allen colorfully evokes the gambling milieu — the chained (mis)fortunes of the players, their vanities and grotesqueries, their quasi-philosophical ruminations on chance. Like Burroughs, he is a dispassionate chronicler of the addict’s daily ritual, neither glorifying nor vilifying the matter at hand."
Library Journal: "Told without preaching or moralizing, the facts of P's life express volumes on the destructive power of gambling. This is strongly recommended and deserves a wide audience; an excellent choice for book discussion groups."
Publishers Weekly: "The well-written novel takes the reader on a chaotic ride as P chases, finds and loses fast, easy money. Allen reveals how addiction annihilates its victims and shows that winning isn't always so different from losing."
Kirkus Review: "A gambler's hands and heart perpetually tremble in this raw story of addiction.
"We gamble to gamble. We play to play. We don't play to win." Right there, P, desperado narrator of this crash-'n'-burn novella, sums up the madness. A black man in Miami, P has graduated from youthful nonchalance (a '79 Buick Electra 225) to married-with-a-kid pseudo-stability, driving a school bus in the shadow of the Biltmore. He lives large enough to afford two wide-screen TVs, but the wife wants more. Or so he rationalizes, as he hits the open-all-night Indian casinos, "controlling" his jones with a daily ATM maximum of $1,000. Low enough to rob the family piggy bank for slot-machine fodder, he sinks yet further, praying that his allergic 11-year-old eat forbidden strawberries—which will send him into a coma, from which he'll emerge with the winning formula for Cash 3 (the kid's supposedly psychic when he's sick). All street smarts and inside skinny, the book gives readers a contact high that zooms to full rush when P scores $160,000 on one lucky machine ("God is the God of Ping-ping," he exults, as the coins flood out). The loot's enough to make the small-timer turn pro, as he heads, flush, to Vegas to cash in. But in Sin City, karmic payback awaits. Swanky hookers, underworld "professors" deeply schooled in sure-fire systems to beat the house, manic trips to the CashMyCheck store for funds to fuel the ferocious need—Allen's brilliant at conveying the hothouse atmosphere of hell-bent gaming.
Fun time in the Inferno."
Now I'd like to make a direct appeal: please go out and purchase a copy of my book ALL OR NOTHING and write a review for me on Amazon.com. It really is a great book. I promise you will enjoy it.
The book has received rave reviews from the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, Kirkus Review, and Library Journal among others.
Get your copy today! Support living, breathing writers!
Thanks,
Preston
______________________________
New York Times: "As with Frederick and Steven Barthelme's disarming gambling memoir, Double Down (1999), the chief virtue of All or Nothing is its facility in enlightening nonbelievers, showing how this addiction follows recognizable patterns of rush and crash, but with a twist—the buzz is in the process, not the result. 'That's what people don't understand about gamblers,' P explains. 'We gamble to gamble. We play to play. We don't play to win.'
"As a cartographer of autodegradation, Allen takes his place on a continuum that begins, perhaps, with Dostoyevsky’s “Gambler,” courses through Malcolm Lowry’s “Under the Volcano,” William S. Burroughs’s “Junky,” the collected works of Charles Bukowski and Hubert Selby Jr., and persists in countless novels and (occasionally fabricated) memoirs of our puritanical, therapized present. Like Dostoyevsky, Allen colorfully evokes the gambling milieu — the chained (mis)fortunes of the players, their vanities and grotesqueries, their quasi-philosophical ruminations on chance. Like Burroughs, he is a dispassionate chronicler of the addict’s daily ritual, neither glorifying nor vilifying the matter at hand."
Library Journal: "Told without preaching or moralizing, the facts of P's life express volumes on the destructive power of gambling. This is strongly recommended and deserves a wide audience; an excellent choice for book discussion groups."
Publishers Weekly: "The well-written novel takes the reader on a chaotic ride as P chases, finds and loses fast, easy money. Allen reveals how addiction annihilates its victims and shows that winning isn't always so different from losing."
Kirkus Review: "A gambler's hands and heart perpetually tremble in this raw story of addiction.
"We gamble to gamble. We play to play. We don't play to win." Right there, P, desperado narrator of this crash-'n'-burn novella, sums up the madness. A black man in Miami, P has graduated from youthful nonchalance (a '79 Buick Electra 225) to married-with-a-kid pseudo-stability, driving a school bus in the shadow of the Biltmore. He lives large enough to afford two wide-screen TVs, but the wife wants more. Or so he rationalizes, as he hits the open-all-night Indian casinos, "controlling" his jones with a daily ATM maximum of $1,000. Low enough to rob the family piggy bank for slot-machine fodder, he sinks yet further, praying that his allergic 11-year-old eat forbidden strawberries—which will send him into a coma, from which he'll emerge with the winning formula for Cash 3 (the kid's supposedly psychic when he's sick). All street smarts and inside skinny, the book gives readers a contact high that zooms to full rush when P scores $160,000 on one lucky machine ("God is the God of Ping-ping," he exults, as the coins flood out). The loot's enough to make the small-timer turn pro, as he heads, flush, to Vegas to cash in. But in Sin City, karmic payback awaits. Swanky hookers, underworld "professors" deeply schooled in sure-fire systems to beat the house, manic trips to the CashMyCheck store for funds to fuel the ferocious need—Allen's brilliant at conveying the hothouse atmosphere of hell-bent gaming.
Fun time in the Inferno."
June 15, 2008
Like a Rush Without the Risk
Q: I read your book a few months ago and really enjoyed it, but now I see you have a New York Times review. You should be very proud. Your book is great. Reading your book is like getting all the rush of gambling without having to lose any money. I can relate to almost everything in it. I am a gambler and have gambled in the Florida casinos, though now I live overseas (military). I think I remember you from the casinos. My name is ___ . I am Haitian, very tall, and have a shaven head. I was a school teacher for a while and I think we talked about that a few times? Your photograph looks very familiar and some of the adventures in the book are very familiar. Do you remember the tall transvestite M_____ who used to gamble there all the time? She was a trip. How come you did not use her in the book? I read an episode you wrote about her or someone very similar to her on another website. The website is asili and the story was called "Pretty Birdy". It was a great gambling story, why didn't you use it in the book?
A: No, I cannot say that I remember you. I'm scratching my head thinking, but your name and description do not ring a bell. Sorry. But I do remember M____! I believe that she was a transsexual, not a transvestite--though I have no hard proof. The story you are talking about was only loosely based on her, and I did not use it in the book because my editor and I decided that it did not fit the book's overall direction. There were many such episodes that had to be cut, a few of which were published elsewhere.
I like what you said about the book. "All the rush of gambling without having to lose any money."
Why don't you write me a review on Amazon?
Thanks,
Preston
A: No, I cannot say that I remember you. I'm scratching my head thinking, but your name and description do not ring a bell. Sorry. But I do remember M____! I believe that she was a transsexual, not a transvestite--though I have no hard proof. The story you are talking about was only loosely based on her, and I did not use it in the book because my editor and I decided that it did not fit the book's overall direction. There were many such episodes that had to be cut, a few of which were published elsewhere.
I like what you said about the book. "All the rush of gambling without having to lose any money."
Why don't you write me a review on Amazon?
Thanks,
Preston
May 28, 2008
Children and Gambling 2
Q: I read the answer to your last question and read that you have seen children waiting for their parents in parking lots and non-carpeted casino floors. I am a 14 year old daughter whose father has/had gambling problems and HAS left me and younger siblings in a parking lot. Have you ever thought of seeing or listening from a child's prospective? My blog is basically from a child's view:
http://www.sramirez93.blogspot.com/
A: Thanks for your question. Yes, I have thought of gambling from a child's point of view. In fact, the sequel to the book (Son of a P) is written from the point of view of P's son--but he is an adult telling the story.
I have a story called "Crip" in the collection LAS VEGAS NOIR (Akashic 2008) that features a little girl who is the child of a gambler. She suffers a lot because of her gambling father--she gets kidnapped and ransomed and then even the threat of sexual abuse arises.
Around 2003-4 there was a memoir I heard about on NPR called something like . . . I wish I could remember the title . . . it was called something like "THE THINGS WE LOST THROUGH OUR FATHER's GAMBLING." From the excerpts, it seems to have been written from the point of view of an adult child of a gambler--recalling her childhood with the gambling father. I wish I had written down the title, but I was on my way to the casino to go gamble and I didn't want to be late.
Your question has given me an idea--I am going to write another short story from the point of view of a gambler's child and focus just on the adventures of the child.
I will visit your site.
Thanks,
Preston
http://www.sramirez93.blogspot.com/
A: Thanks for your question. Yes, I have thought of gambling from a child's point of view. In fact, the sequel to the book (Son of a P) is written from the point of view of P's son--but he is an adult telling the story.
I have a story called "Crip" in the collection LAS VEGAS NOIR (Akashic 2008) that features a little girl who is the child of a gambler. She suffers a lot because of her gambling father--she gets kidnapped and ransomed and then even the threat of sexual abuse arises.
Around 2003-4 there was a memoir I heard about on NPR called something like . . . I wish I could remember the title . . . it was called something like "THE THINGS WE LOST THROUGH OUR FATHER's GAMBLING." From the excerpts, it seems to have been written from the point of view of an adult child of a gambler--recalling her childhood with the gambling father. I wish I had written down the title, but I was on my way to the casino to go gamble and I didn't want to be late.
Your question has given me an idea--I am going to write another short story from the point of view of a gambler's child and focus just on the adventures of the child.
I will visit your site.
Thanks,
Preston
May 20, 2008
Children and Gambling
Q: I am enjoying your book. I have a question about children. Is it realistic that P would abandon his wife and children? He clearly loves them.
A: Good question, and the answer is yes. It all depends on the gambler, of course, and the level of addiction to which he/she has sunk. But I have seen very young children waiting on their gambling parent for hours on the non-carpeted areas of the casino (Florida law forbids minors to step on the carpeted areas where the gambling occurs). I have seen them waiting outside in parked cars. I imagine many of them must be waiting upstairs in the hotel rooms, too. I have known of gamblers who have divorced most likely due to their addiction--and there are children involved whom they almost never see, and to whom they give little financial support because their money goes into the casino. In other words, they cannot afford child support (and are not there for emotional support) and yet they are in the casino every day blowing hundreds and thousands.
In that respect, P is fictional, but typical. He loves his children, but he will push them aside if they interfere with his gambling.
Go to this site for more information--Gambling Addiction Questions and Answers.
http://www.addictionrecov.org/qandagam.htm
Thanks,
Preston
A: Good question, and the answer is yes. It all depends on the gambler, of course, and the level of addiction to which he/she has sunk. But I have seen very young children waiting on their gambling parent for hours on the non-carpeted areas of the casino (Florida law forbids minors to step on the carpeted areas where the gambling occurs). I have seen them waiting outside in parked cars. I imagine many of them must be waiting upstairs in the hotel rooms, too. I have known of gamblers who have divorced most likely due to their addiction--and there are children involved whom they almost never see, and to whom they give little financial support because their money goes into the casino. In other words, they cannot afford child support (and are not there for emotional support) and yet they are in the casino every day blowing hundreds and thousands.
In that respect, P is fictional, but typical. He loves his children, but he will push them aside if they interfere with his gambling.
Go to this site for more information--Gambling Addiction Questions and Answers.
http://www.addictionrecov.org/qandagam.htm
Thanks,
Preston
April 30, 2008
Astonishing
Q: Loved your book. What is the most astonishing thing you have ever seen in a casino?
A: Hmmm. Good question.
I think I may have told this story before on another post, but here goes.
An elderly couple (Canadian, I think) were new to the casino's four-screen build-your-own-lotto machine. So they were complaing and grumbling and asking for help, but no floor person was nearby and none of us regulars would help them.
He was saying, "How does this thing work? How do you get it to play a quarter? Are zeroes the only number that it can play?" The machine showed six zeroes on all four screens.
She was saying, "Let's get someone to help us. Where is everybody? Why will no one help up? I think the machine is stuck on forty. How do you change it? We don't want to bet forty dollars at a time. That's too much."
And they're pushing buttons and grumbling and fiddling with the machine, and I am about to offer my assistance, when all of a sudden I hear their machine pinging like crazy. Ping-ping-ping-ping!
Accidentally, one of them had pushed the PLAY button and six zeroes came out. Six Zeroes!!! They hit on all four screens.
And since their machine was stuck on forty dollars (ten dollaras a screen), they hit $50,000 on each screen--in other words, they hit $200,000 without even knowing what they were doing.
Astonishing.
I was at a table and a guy hit a Royal Flush. So we paused the game so that the Indians could pay him his jackpot ($5,000). Fifteen minutes later, we got back to playing the game, and the guy's eyes grew big again. When he laid down his cards, he had hit another Royal Flush! He hit two Flushes not only at the same table, but in consecutive hands.
Astonishing.
I sat down at a poker table in my favorite seat--seat 3. And I told the dealer, "This is my lucky seat. I have hit 7 Royals in seat 3 so far, so deal me Royal number 8, dealer." On the next hand, he dealt me a spade Royal Flush. The jackpot was $2500.
Astonishing.
A dealer snuck a quarter from the till. This was one of the best dealers in the house. Everybody liked her. She was attractive, humorous, she controlled her table, and she dealt a fast accurate hand. Perhaps she did not sneak the quarter from the till--perhaps she just made an honest mistake. It did not matter. Against the protests of the players, they fired her on the spot for swiping that quarter.
Astonishing.
Preston
A: Hmmm. Good question.
I think I may have told this story before on another post, but here goes.
An elderly couple (Canadian, I think) were new to the casino's four-screen build-your-own-lotto machine. So they were complaing and grumbling and asking for help, but no floor person was nearby and none of us regulars would help them.
He was saying, "How does this thing work? How do you get it to play a quarter? Are zeroes the only number that it can play?" The machine showed six zeroes on all four screens.
She was saying, "Let's get someone to help us. Where is everybody? Why will no one help up? I think the machine is stuck on forty. How do you change it? We don't want to bet forty dollars at a time. That's too much."
And they're pushing buttons and grumbling and fiddling with the machine, and I am about to offer my assistance, when all of a sudden I hear their machine pinging like crazy. Ping-ping-ping-ping!
Accidentally, one of them had pushed the PLAY button and six zeroes came out. Six Zeroes!!! They hit on all four screens.
And since their machine was stuck on forty dollars (ten dollaras a screen), they hit $50,000 on each screen--in other words, they hit $200,000 without even knowing what they were doing.
Astonishing.
I was at a table and a guy hit a Royal Flush. So we paused the game so that the Indians could pay him his jackpot ($5,000). Fifteen minutes later, we got back to playing the game, and the guy's eyes grew big again. When he laid down his cards, he had hit another Royal Flush! He hit two Flushes not only at the same table, but in consecutive hands.
Astonishing.
I sat down at a poker table in my favorite seat--seat 3. And I told the dealer, "This is my lucky seat. I have hit 7 Royals in seat 3 so far, so deal me Royal number 8, dealer." On the next hand, he dealt me a spade Royal Flush. The jackpot was $2500.
Astonishing.
A dealer snuck a quarter from the till. This was one of the best dealers in the house. Everybody liked her. She was attractive, humorous, she controlled her table, and she dealt a fast accurate hand. Perhaps she did not sneak the quarter from the till--perhaps she just made an honest mistake. It did not matter. Against the protests of the players, they fired her on the spot for swiping that quarter.
Astonishing.
Preston
Queen of Spades
Q: I am curious about the story by Pushkin that you refer to in the novel. You refer to it as the "Queen of Spades." I'm not finding it.
A: It is a translation from the Russian, so depending on whose translation you have it might have a slightly different title. I don't have the collection of Pushkin stories in front of me right now, but I am 100% certain my translation had it titled "The Queen of Spades."
Thanks,
Preston
A: It is a translation from the Russian, so depending on whose translation you have it might have a slightly different title. I don't have the collection of Pushkin stories in front of me right now, but I am 100% certain my translation had it titled "The Queen of Spades."
Thanks,
Preston
Sex in Gambling
Q: Is there a lot of sex in gambling?
A: I wouldn't know because I am a virgin. I'll pass your question on to one of my three children, however.
Seriously, though, I have seen some things in the casinos that make me shudder. First, there are the professionals, the prostitutes. Second, there are the gamblers who fall in love with each other. Third, there are those who have fallen on hard times and whose bodies are the final thing they can sell, or exchange, for money to gamble with.
Here's some advice for you non-gambling husbands out there. Always go to the casino with your gambling wife. I you cannot go with her, send her with a lot of money. When she calls you on the phone for more money, do not berate her--send her more money. Remember, there are WAYS for her to make money to gamble with in a casino.
Thanks,
Preston
A: I wouldn't know because I am a virgin. I'll pass your question on to one of my three children, however.
Seriously, though, I have seen some things in the casinos that make me shudder. First, there are the professionals, the prostitutes. Second, there are the gamblers who fall in love with each other. Third, there are those who have fallen on hard times and whose bodies are the final thing they can sell, or exchange, for money to gamble with.
Here's some advice for you non-gambling husbands out there. Always go to the casino with your gambling wife. I you cannot go with her, send her with a lot of money. When she calls you on the phone for more money, do not berate her--send her more money. Remember, there are WAYS for her to make money to gamble with in a casino.
Thanks,
Preston
January 15, 2008
Do Gamblers Really Commit Suicide?
"Preston,
I must tell you that your book is good but also very scary. Not to take anything away from your skills as a writer and storyteller, but I enjoyed the book especially because of what I learned about the gambling lifestyle as I have many friends who are gamblers or love going to the casino and the dog track.
When reading a book of fiction, however, it is sometimes difficult to tell what is real and what is made up by the writer. Do gamblers really commit suicide a lot? Thanks, a fan."
Oh boy. Gamblers committing suicide. Groan. This is the big one.
Thanks for the question, fan, but I have to admit that this is a serious subject with which I have firsthand experience, but limited knowledge.
Sadly, I must tell you, it does happen.
This is the one aspect of gambling that I don't like talking about, though, as you know, I addressed it in the novel, ALL OR NOTHING.
I find it much easier to handle in the medium of fiction.
One day I will be courageous enough to write a non-fiction piece about it.
I have seen enough of that to make me sick for life. See, because of your addiction you sink so low in self esteem and debt (my god the astronomical debt!) that the only way out for you is a big, big mega-impossible win or . . . suicide. You just get so tired you don't want to fight anymore. You get tired of struggling, and lying, and hiding, and hoping, and being disappointed, and cheating, and stealing, and doing other stupid, sleazy, selfish shit to the people you love, and hiding under that mountain of lies just waiting for the day when it all comes crashing down and you get arrested or evicted and then everybody knows.
Sometimes we could tell that someone we knew was going to do it. They would go awol from the GA meetings for the last couple of weeks, you would see them banging their last meager pennies at the casino for the last couple of weeks, they would be playing the really expensive games with the really high jackpots, the mega-impossible jackpots, and you would be praying, just praying, that they win. Come on, Lord, let him win. Of course, they would lose. Then they would disappear and we would hear at the next GA meeting that so-and-so couldn't take it anymore and shot himself. Slit her wrists. Jumped in front of traffic. Drank rat poison. But we knew already. We knew already. And there wasn't shit we could do about it because we were so close to making that same fateful decision. Every day eyeing that mega-impossible jackpot machine as we walked past it. The machine that never wins. The machine that would fix everything if it would just win.
Yeah, suicide--all kidding aside, this is one of the main reasons you should demand that any gambler you know and love seek help immediately for his/her addiction.
And here is the big lie I told in the book. Gambles don't go to each other's funerals; Gamblers play poker for their dead.
On the website Getting Past Gambling ( http://www.gettingpastgambling.com/ )there is a great explanation of why it happens. I will cut and paste the brief, though pertinent passage from that essay here.
"Gambling addiction has one of the highest suicide rates of all addictions and this is partially due to the nature of the consequences.
With most addictions, the addict can lose everything he had, his family, his job, his self-respect, he can take himself down to having nothing left, zero, zip, nada.
However, the gambling addict may have lost all of those things, but his aftermath doesn't stop merely at zero.
The gambler may have lost his family, job, self-respect AND may be thousands, tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt and the only way he knows of to get out of debt is........(insert drum roll) ....................to gamble and win the big one.
When the alcoholic quits drinking, he picks up the pieces and moves on, but the gambler may be faced with overwhelming debt that he cannot see a way out of when he quits gambling.
Don't despair, many gambling addicts make it through, quit gambling and move on with their lives, but as with any other addiction it can be a life time struggle both for the gambler and the people who love them."
Copyright 2007 All material remains the property of the author http://www.oagaa.org/html/who_is_this_person_.htm posted by LindaH @ 10:49 PM
Thanks,
Preston
I must tell you that your book is good but also very scary. Not to take anything away from your skills as a writer and storyteller, but I enjoyed the book especially because of what I learned about the gambling lifestyle as I have many friends who are gamblers or love going to the casino and the dog track.
When reading a book of fiction, however, it is sometimes difficult to tell what is real and what is made up by the writer. Do gamblers really commit suicide a lot? Thanks, a fan."
Oh boy. Gamblers committing suicide. Groan. This is the big one.
Thanks for the question, fan, but I have to admit that this is a serious subject with which I have firsthand experience, but limited knowledge.
Sadly, I must tell you, it does happen.
This is the one aspect of gambling that I don't like talking about, though, as you know, I addressed it in the novel, ALL OR NOTHING.
I find it much easier to handle in the medium of fiction.
One day I will be courageous enough to write a non-fiction piece about it.
I have seen enough of that to make me sick for life. See, because of your addiction you sink so low in self esteem and debt (my god the astronomical debt!) that the only way out for you is a big, big mega-impossible win or . . . suicide. You just get so tired you don't want to fight anymore. You get tired of struggling, and lying, and hiding, and hoping, and being disappointed, and cheating, and stealing, and doing other stupid, sleazy, selfish shit to the people you love, and hiding under that mountain of lies just waiting for the day when it all comes crashing down and you get arrested or evicted and then everybody knows.
Sometimes we could tell that someone we knew was going to do it. They would go awol from the GA meetings for the last couple of weeks, you would see them banging their last meager pennies at the casino for the last couple of weeks, they would be playing the really expensive games with the really high jackpots, the mega-impossible jackpots, and you would be praying, just praying, that they win. Come on, Lord, let him win. Of course, they would lose. Then they would disappear and we would hear at the next GA meeting that so-and-so couldn't take it anymore and shot himself. Slit her wrists. Jumped in front of traffic. Drank rat poison. But we knew already. We knew already. And there wasn't shit we could do about it because we were so close to making that same fateful decision. Every day eyeing that mega-impossible jackpot machine as we walked past it. The machine that never wins. The machine that would fix everything if it would just win.
Yeah, suicide--all kidding aside, this is one of the main reasons you should demand that any gambler you know and love seek help immediately for his/her addiction.
And here is the big lie I told in the book. Gambles don't go to each other's funerals; Gamblers play poker for their dead.
On the website Getting Past Gambling ( http://www.gettingpastgambling.com/ )there is a great explanation of why it happens. I will cut and paste the brief, though pertinent passage from that essay here.
"Gambling addiction has one of the highest suicide rates of all addictions and this is partially due to the nature of the consequences.
With most addictions, the addict can lose everything he had, his family, his job, his self-respect, he can take himself down to having nothing left, zero, zip, nada.
However, the gambling addict may have lost all of those things, but his aftermath doesn't stop merely at zero.
The gambler may have lost his family, job, self-respect AND may be thousands, tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt and the only way he knows of to get out of debt is........(insert drum roll) ....................to gamble and win the big one.
When the alcoholic quits drinking, he picks up the pieces and moves on, but the gambler may be faced with overwhelming debt that he cannot see a way out of when he quits gambling.
Don't despair, many gambling addicts make it through, quit gambling and move on with their lives, but as with any other addiction it can be a life time struggle both for the gambler and the people who love them."
Copyright 2007 All material remains the property of the author http://www.oagaa.org/html/who_is_this_person_.htm posted by LindaH @ 10:49 PM
Thanks,
Preston
January 8, 2008
A Character in Your Novel
"I am enjoying the book so far. I just finished the CORINTHIANS Chapter and I had to email you to tell you how excellent that part is. As a religious man myself, I completely get it--the title of the chapter and all.
I noticed that the gamblers in your book seem to represent many levels and many types of addiction; however, the gambler you named 'U' stands out from the rest as being not so depraved. What if anything does 'U' represent or symbolize? I did not miss the fact that his name is 'U'."
Thanks for sending me the email. The CORINTHIANS chapter is special for me, too. In some ways gambling becomes a gambler's religion: the devotion, the belief system, the hope, the sacrifice. But gambling offers the gambler a false covenant and transforms him in ways that are the exact opposite of that postulated by Paul about love (charity) in that famous section in the Corinthians.
As concerns U . . . U is the successful gambling celebrity. He does everything right. He makes it seem easy, but he works hard at it. Harder than you. He too is quietly suffering from the effects of his addiction, and you choose not to notice the suffering because you want to be U. But you can never be U. You are in too deep.
Wow that was deep. What did I just say? It sounded kinda good. I have no idea what I just said. I hope it makes sense to you or to any future literary scholars interested in deconstructing the novel for their students. If a student of mine had written what I just said, I would have given him a B, okay a B+. It is a good answer. But not the only answer.
In truth, I am uncomfortable with literary questions like this. I'm just a writer. I just tell the story; you the reader have to decide for yourself what it all means. And when it comes down to who is right, me the writer or you the reader, well, of course the reader is always right.
A writer, because of her implied, but false authority, ruins the story if she establishes set explanations for things.
The story exists in your head. It is now your story. So what, it differs from mine just a little bit.
I will gladly discuss the symbolism in someone else's book, but not my own. I am the writer. I don't want to ruin what it means for you.
On the other hand, I am very interested in listening to others discuss the book, or sharing with me their opinions of things in the book. In fact, I am honored by it.
(Joyce Carol Oates once responded in like kind to a question about her famous story "WHERE ARE YOU GOING WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN." If anyone can find her well articulated response to a student who was asking her to analyze her own story and to comment on his analysis of it, please email it to me prestonthewriterallen@gmail.com so that I can link it to the blog.)
Thanks,
Preston
I noticed that the gamblers in your book seem to represent many levels and many types of addiction; however, the gambler you named 'U' stands out from the rest as being not so depraved. What if anything does 'U' represent or symbolize? I did not miss the fact that his name is 'U'."
Thanks for sending me the email. The CORINTHIANS chapter is special for me, too. In some ways gambling becomes a gambler's religion: the devotion, the belief system, the hope, the sacrifice. But gambling offers the gambler a false covenant and transforms him in ways that are the exact opposite of that postulated by Paul about love (charity) in that famous section in the Corinthians.
As concerns U . . . U is the successful gambling celebrity. He does everything right. He makes it seem easy, but he works hard at it. Harder than you. He too is quietly suffering from the effects of his addiction, and you choose not to notice the suffering because you want to be U. But you can never be U. You are in too deep.
Wow that was deep. What did I just say? It sounded kinda good. I have no idea what I just said. I hope it makes sense to you or to any future literary scholars interested in deconstructing the novel for their students. If a student of mine had written what I just said, I would have given him a B, okay a B+. It is a good answer. But not the only answer.
In truth, I am uncomfortable with literary questions like this. I'm just a writer. I just tell the story; you the reader have to decide for yourself what it all means. And when it comes down to who is right, me the writer or you the reader, well, of course the reader is always right.
A writer, because of her implied, but false authority, ruins the story if she establishes set explanations for things.
The story exists in your head. It is now your story. So what, it differs from mine just a little bit.
I will gladly discuss the symbolism in someone else's book, but not my own. I am the writer. I don't want to ruin what it means for you.
On the other hand, I am very interested in listening to others discuss the book, or sharing with me their opinions of things in the book. In fact, I am honored by it.
(Joyce Carol Oates once responded in like kind to a question about her famous story "WHERE ARE YOU GOING WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN." If anyone can find her well articulated response to a student who was asking her to analyze her own story and to comment on his analysis of it, please email it to me prestonthewriterallen@gmail.com so that I can link it to the blog.)
Thanks,
Preston
January 7, 2008
Why Can't You Stop Gambling on Your Own?
"My b/f is just like the gamblers in your novel, especially P. He has stopped gambling many times and then gone right back to it. Why do you think a gambler just can't quit when he really means it and says he is going to quit?"
Thanks,
I'm sorry to hear about your b/f, but you would have to ask a professional that question for the best answer. I am just a novelist and, unfortunately, a gambler myself. I do not go to the casino anymore, but I think about it every day. EVERY day.
GA helped me to get a grip on the behavior, and so did my love for my family and the things that I would potentially destroy if I continued to go. The fact that I am a control freak probably helped too--I did not like the fact that I was being controlled by an external force. But every day that passes I see a number combination that tugs at my "intuition," and I get this urge to play it on the slots.
One of the things I have learned through my experiences and from the gamblers I know is that gambling is fun. Gambling is a thrill. Gambling is an opportunity for good things to come. With gambling, anything is possible. Gambling is like childhood all over again. You know, like when you were a child--it seemed like anything was possible. In a casino, it seems like anything is possible. And it is. If you're lucky.
I was at a casino in the middle of the night playing poker and one of the regulars asked if I could give him a lift home. He had no car and he had, as was his habit, arrived there on foot. Sure, I told him.
But there was no need to do that. He hit a royal flush jackpot at our table for $25,000. They paid him off in the manner he requested: $10,000 in cash and the rest in check. He waited for the sun to come up and walked across the street to the car dealership, bought a spiffy little Toyota (in cash!), and drove himself home.
Wow. Anything is possible we all said, watching.
A dealer we all knew and loved started annoying us with his complaints about the way he was being treated at the casino by management: shorting him on his hours, giving others with less seniority preferential treatment, over-criticizing the few mistakes he made while dealing (he was one of the best--he rarely made mistakes dealing).
Then he disappeared, and a few weeks passed before we saw him again. This time he was there as a player. I was at the table with him as he was telling everyone about what had happened: He won half a million dollars on the slots at one of the other local casinos and he quit his job the next day.
Wow. Anything is possible.
Stuff like that happens in casinos all the time. People hit amazing amounts of money that change their lives. They can quit their jobs, they can buy a new car, a new house. I have seen it. No problem is too big that the casino can't solve, it seems.
And maybe that is the problem. See, once people like your b/f get so deep in debt from their indiscriminate gambling, the only place they can go and not feel bad about their desperate situation is, believe it or not, the casino. Because the casino, if they hit it big, represents the solution to the finanacial hole that they are buried up to their eyeballs in.
As long as there is a casino, there is a hope that they can get out of their misery.
And it is at times like these that they conveniently forget the impossible odds they have to overcome in order to win, and most of all they forget that it is the casino that has put them in their misery in the first place.
They just keep pressing PLAY and wishing like children on a star.
Anything is possible.
Anything is possible.
Anything is possible--except for quitting gambling, no matter how strong you think you are.
Thanks,
Preston
Thanks,
I'm sorry to hear about your b/f, but you would have to ask a professional that question for the best answer. I am just a novelist and, unfortunately, a gambler myself. I do not go to the casino anymore, but I think about it every day. EVERY day.
GA helped me to get a grip on the behavior, and so did my love for my family and the things that I would potentially destroy if I continued to go. The fact that I am a control freak probably helped too--I did not like the fact that I was being controlled by an external force. But every day that passes I see a number combination that tugs at my "intuition," and I get this urge to play it on the slots.
One of the things I have learned through my experiences and from the gamblers I know is that gambling is fun. Gambling is a thrill. Gambling is an opportunity for good things to come. With gambling, anything is possible. Gambling is like childhood all over again. You know, like when you were a child--it seemed like anything was possible. In a casino, it seems like anything is possible. And it is. If you're lucky.
I was at a casino in the middle of the night playing poker and one of the regulars asked if I could give him a lift home. He had no car and he had, as was his habit, arrived there on foot. Sure, I told him.
But there was no need to do that. He hit a royal flush jackpot at our table for $25,000. They paid him off in the manner he requested: $10,000 in cash and the rest in check. He waited for the sun to come up and walked across the street to the car dealership, bought a spiffy little Toyota (in cash!), and drove himself home.
Wow. Anything is possible we all said, watching.
A dealer we all knew and loved started annoying us with his complaints about the way he was being treated at the casino by management: shorting him on his hours, giving others with less seniority preferential treatment, over-criticizing the few mistakes he made while dealing (he was one of the best--he rarely made mistakes dealing).
Then he disappeared, and a few weeks passed before we saw him again. This time he was there as a player. I was at the table with him as he was telling everyone about what had happened: He won half a million dollars on the slots at one of the other local casinos and he quit his job the next day.
Wow. Anything is possible.
Stuff like that happens in casinos all the time. People hit amazing amounts of money that change their lives. They can quit their jobs, they can buy a new car, a new house. I have seen it. No problem is too big that the casino can't solve, it seems.
And maybe that is the problem. See, once people like your b/f get so deep in debt from their indiscriminate gambling, the only place they can go and not feel bad about their desperate situation is, believe it or not, the casino. Because the casino, if they hit it big, represents the solution to the finanacial hole that they are buried up to their eyeballs in.
As long as there is a casino, there is a hope that they can get out of their misery.
And it is at times like these that they conveniently forget the impossible odds they have to overcome in order to win, and most of all they forget that it is the casino that has put them in their misery in the first place.
They just keep pressing PLAY and wishing like children on a star.
Anything is possible.
Anything is possible.
Anything is possible--except for quitting gambling, no matter how strong you think you are.
Thanks,
Preston
January 6, 2008
I Love the Degenerate P
"I just finished ALL OR NOTHING and could not wait to write a review for it on Amazon.com, which I did, and to contact you to ask a couple questions.
First of all, I think it is a great book, I have never read anything like it and I do not see how you would be able to write a sequel. You covered all angles in the first book.
Second, P. I love P. Why? What is your formula to make this otherwise vile character so endearing to the reader?"
Thanks for the questions. Hmmm. Okay, the sequel deals with P's son, and while I did cover pretty much the entire spectrum of addiction in the first book, I am a writer who loves to explore character and there are layers and layers of P's son's character that merit exploring. While P was a poor bus driver born in the early sixites, this son is a young, good-looking athlete coming of age in present day . . . note also that this is the age of online gambling . . . and P's wife now becomes the MOTHER of a gambler . . . and the kid is . . . lucky.
And Question # 2. I have no formula for making P lovable, except that I withhold judgment and allow you to experience him the way the characters in the story experience him--he is truly a nice guy, that is not fake, and so you will like him as they like him.
So if there is a formula to creating likable charatcers, then it is this: State the facts without bias or adornment, let the character be on the page who he is.
Thanks,
Preston
First of all, I think it is a great book, I have never read anything like it and I do not see how you would be able to write a sequel. You covered all angles in the first book.
Second, P. I love P. Why? What is your formula to make this otherwise vile character so endearing to the reader?"
Thanks for the questions. Hmmm. Okay, the sequel deals with P's son, and while I did cover pretty much the entire spectrum of addiction in the first book, I am a writer who loves to explore character and there are layers and layers of P's son's character that merit exploring. While P was a poor bus driver born in the early sixites, this son is a young, good-looking athlete coming of age in present day . . . note also that this is the age of online gambling . . . and P's wife now becomes the MOTHER of a gambler . . . and the kid is . . . lucky.
And Question # 2. I have no formula for making P lovable, except that I withhold judgment and allow you to experience him the way the characters in the story experience him--he is truly a nice guy, that is not fake, and so you will like him as they like him.
So if there is a formula to creating likable charatcers, then it is this: State the facts without bias or adornment, let the character be on the page who he is.
Thanks,
Preston
January 4, 2008
These Are the Things That Drive a Gambler Mad
So . . .
Last night I was playing Parchesi with my kids. I was winning. Yippieee! I got two of my pawns home and had the last two in the zone waiting to be sent home. Unfortunately, they were occupying the same spot and they both needed a "7," a difficult roll, to get home. In other words, I needed to roll a "7" twice in order to win.
My lead quickly dwindled as I waited to roll a "7." I was rolling everything, it seemed, but a "7." Eventually, my son and daughter got their pawns into positon. They looked like they were positioned to overtake me while I was waiting for that stingy "7," and I needed two of them!
Then suddenly, I rolled a "7."
Yippieee!
Now all I needed was one more "7" to win.
When my turn came again, I rolled a "7." Game over. Papa wins!!!!
My daughter said, "Well, you got your lucky "7."
So the next day, as I was going to check the winning numbers in the Cash-3, my daughter said, "I hope you played 7s because you won with them last night in Parchesi."
What a strange thing for the child to say.
When I checked the winning numbers, my jaw dropped.
777.
The 7s had played.
Now granted, I do not gamble anymore, but good googly moogly if I had had the slightest inkling that the 7s were going to play, I would have racked up.
And not just one 7, but three of them.
These are the things that drive gamblers mad.
Sad Preston tonight
Sad, sad Preston tonight
Last night I was playing Parchesi with my kids. I was winning. Yippieee! I got two of my pawns home and had the last two in the zone waiting to be sent home. Unfortunately, they were occupying the same spot and they both needed a "7," a difficult roll, to get home. In other words, I needed to roll a "7" twice in order to win.
My lead quickly dwindled as I waited to roll a "7." I was rolling everything, it seemed, but a "7." Eventually, my son and daughter got their pawns into positon. They looked like they were positioned to overtake me while I was waiting for that stingy "7," and I needed two of them!
Then suddenly, I rolled a "7."
Yippieee!
Now all I needed was one more "7" to win.
When my turn came again, I rolled a "7." Game over. Papa wins!!!!
My daughter said, "Well, you got your lucky "7."
So the next day, as I was going to check the winning numbers in the Cash-3, my daughter said, "I hope you played 7s because you won with them last night in Parchesi."
What a strange thing for the child to say.
When I checked the winning numbers, my jaw dropped.
777.
The 7s had played.
Now granted, I do not gamble anymore, but good googly moogly if I had had the slightest inkling that the 7s were going to play, I would have racked up.
And not just one 7, but three of them.
These are the things that drive gamblers mad.
Sad Preston tonight
Sad, sad Preston tonight
January 2, 2008
Have You Ever Hit It Big Gambling?
"In reading your novel, ALL OR NOTHING, I was really into the scenes in which P was playing the slots at the casino. Those were great!! My adrenaline was pumping when he hit it big. That was well written. You seem to know that feeling. Have you ever hit it big like that at a casino? A fan."
Thanks for the question, fan. Thanks for being a fan. We all need more fans!
I was at an Indian casino back in . . . 1992, yes, Hurricane Andrew. I was there with a serious gambler. I was bored watching him play poker. So I turned to the slot machine behind his table and put in a $5 I think, and I played it for a quarter because I am a cheapskate. Then I got brave and raised my bet to 50 cents and bang! The machine started pinging. Ping-ping-ping-ping-ping-ping.
I tapped my companion (a kinsman who wants his identity withheld) on the shoulder and told him, "Look, I just won a hundred dollars!"
He twisted his neck to glance at the machine and frowned. "You did not win a hundred dollars, you knucklehead. You just won ten thousand dollars."
Holy sh . . . ten grand!!!
They weren't kidding either. They came around and asked me if I wanted it in cash or check. Check, I said, of course. I was not a gambler. I did not know what to do with a large sum of money like that. . . well, I did have a wedding coming up.
Later, after I had become a gambler and before GA, I hit other, larger sums--but mostly I learned to write scenes like that from watching other gamblers who won; and from wishing it were me.
I watched an older man, a Canadian tourist, a stranger to the Indian casino, fumbling around with the controls, grumbling, and muttering, "How do you get this dang thing off zero? Is zero the only number it plays?"
The guy had all zeroes on all four screens.
"And how do you lower the dang bet?"
The guy had the maximum $10 bet on all four screens. Forty bucks would be lost if he hit PLAY.
I was laughing to myself playing my own machine. I'm a nice guy. I was thinking that if no floor help came to them (his wife was there fumbling around, too) that I would show them how to work the controls on the machine.
The next thing I knew, their machine was singing, ping-ping-ping-ping-ping like crazy. The old man, or maybe his wife, had accidentally touched the PLAY button and the incredible number 0-0-0-0-0-0 had come tumbling out. They had just hit all zeroes on all four screens for the max bet on all four screens: i.e., $50,000 x 4= $200,000.
Holy sh . . .
Witnessing things like that helped me to write those casino scenes. Wishing things like that would happen to me helped me to write those casino scenes.
Thanks,
Preston
Thanks for the question, fan. Thanks for being a fan. We all need more fans!
I was at an Indian casino back in . . . 1992, yes, Hurricane Andrew. I was there with a serious gambler. I was bored watching him play poker. So I turned to the slot machine behind his table and put in a $5 I think, and I played it for a quarter because I am a cheapskate. Then I got brave and raised my bet to 50 cents and bang! The machine started pinging. Ping-ping-ping-ping-ping-ping.
I tapped my companion (a kinsman who wants his identity withheld) on the shoulder and told him, "Look, I just won a hundred dollars!"
He twisted his neck to glance at the machine and frowned. "You did not win a hundred dollars, you knucklehead. You just won ten thousand dollars."
Holy sh . . . ten grand!!!
They weren't kidding either. They came around and asked me if I wanted it in cash or check. Check, I said, of course. I was not a gambler. I did not know what to do with a large sum of money like that. . . well, I did have a wedding coming up.
Later, after I had become a gambler and before GA, I hit other, larger sums--but mostly I learned to write scenes like that from watching other gamblers who won; and from wishing it were me.
I watched an older man, a Canadian tourist, a stranger to the Indian casino, fumbling around with the controls, grumbling, and muttering, "How do you get this dang thing off zero? Is zero the only number it plays?"
The guy had all zeroes on all four screens.
"And how do you lower the dang bet?"
The guy had the maximum $10 bet on all four screens. Forty bucks would be lost if he hit PLAY.
I was laughing to myself playing my own machine. I'm a nice guy. I was thinking that if no floor help came to them (his wife was there fumbling around, too) that I would show them how to work the controls on the machine.
The next thing I knew, their machine was singing, ping-ping-ping-ping-ping like crazy. The old man, or maybe his wife, had accidentally touched the PLAY button and the incredible number 0-0-0-0-0-0 had come tumbling out. They had just hit all zeroes on all four screens for the max bet on all four screens: i.e., $50,000 x 4= $200,000.
Holy sh . . .
Witnessing things like that helped me to write those casino scenes. Wishing things like that would happen to me helped me to write those casino scenes.
Thanks,
Preston
December 30, 2007
Why did you cut that great scene?
"Professor Allen,
I read your novel, All or Nothing. IT WAS AMAZING!!
It seems to be a very realistic view of gamblers and their addictions. I know that this novel is fiction, but I can't help but think that you got some of these ideas from your own personal experience . . . Were you ever sucked into the gambling world?
. . . one thing is that reading the passage of How I killed My Beloved Son on your website really helped me understand what was going on in the novel. I don't know why the publishers would make you take that out!! That was such a good chapter!!!
All in all it was a very great book. It only took me two days to read it, which hardly ever happens. I would love to read some more of your books! Which ones would you recommend that have that harsh reality tone? Keep up the great writing!
A. F. "
Thanks for the email, A. F., and for the great semester. It was fun having you in my freshman rhetoric class.
One of the first rules we learn in creative writing classes is "kill your darlings"; i.e., cut those sections, no matter how beautiful they are, that are preventing the work from being as strong as it can be.
Yeah, that happens sometimes. We have to cut things--things that we love--when we edit. It is hard for me to explain (now) why that particular section or any other was cut, but I do know that as we were working on the book, that part of it felt "wrong," either to me or to my wonderful editor Katie Blount, and so it had to go. There were other sections like that, well written passages that slowed the work as a whole, or great scenes that did not fit the overall feel of the book. I think the cuts worked--I like the feel of the book now.
[Check out my blog on Editors on my other blog site (Ing and Bling) at http://www.prestonlallen.blogspot.com/ December 8, What's It Like Working with an Editor?].
Ironically, A.F., some of those cut scenes (3 of them) have been published as stand-alone short stories, and some of them are the basis for the sequel (in progress), which may or may not be called "Son of a P." Yes, sadly, P's beloved son grows up to be a worse degenerate even than his father.
The other book of mine that you might check out that comes close to having that "harsh reality tone" that you speak of is HOOCHIE MAMA--it is gritty and harsh, but as a thriller it deals with a "less real" kind of reality than we encounter in ALL OR NOTHING.
Thanks A.F.,
Prof. Allen
I read your novel, All or Nothing. IT WAS AMAZING!!
It seems to be a very realistic view of gamblers and their addictions. I know that this novel is fiction, but I can't help but think that you got some of these ideas from your own personal experience . . . Were you ever sucked into the gambling world?
. . . one thing is that reading the passage of How I killed My Beloved Son on your website really helped me understand what was going on in the novel. I don't know why the publishers would make you take that out!! That was such a good chapter!!!
All in all it was a very great book. It only took me two days to read it, which hardly ever happens. I would love to read some more of your books! Which ones would you recommend that have that harsh reality tone? Keep up the great writing!
A. F. "
Thanks for the email, A. F., and for the great semester. It was fun having you in my freshman rhetoric class.
One of the first rules we learn in creative writing classes is "kill your darlings"; i.e., cut those sections, no matter how beautiful they are, that are preventing the work from being as strong as it can be.
Yeah, that happens sometimes. We have to cut things--things that we love--when we edit. It is hard for me to explain (now) why that particular section or any other was cut, but I do know that as we were working on the book, that part of it felt "wrong," either to me or to my wonderful editor Katie Blount, and so it had to go. There were other sections like that, well written passages that slowed the work as a whole, or great scenes that did not fit the overall feel of the book. I think the cuts worked--I like the feel of the book now.
[Check out my blog on Editors on my other blog site (Ing and Bling) at http://www.prestonlallen.blogspot.com/ December 8, What's It Like Working with an Editor?].
Ironically, A.F., some of those cut scenes (3 of them) have been published as stand-alone short stories, and some of them are the basis for the sequel (in progress), which may or may not be called "Son of a P." Yes, sadly, P's beloved son grows up to be a worse degenerate even than his father.
The other book of mine that you might check out that comes close to having that "harsh reality tone" that you speak of is HOOCHIE MAMA--it is gritty and harsh, but as a thriller it deals with a "less real" kind of reality than we encounter in ALL OR NOTHING.
Thanks A.F.,
Prof. Allen
What Are Your Favorite Games?
"What are your favorite games at the casino? I notice that in your novel, P played the Build-your-own Lotto a great deal and Texas Hold'em. A reader."
My favorite games are Omaha hi-low, as far as cards are concerned and Wheel of Fortune, as far as slots are concerned.
In the book, P played Texas Hold'em because it is a game America is hooked on, though I personally believe that Omaha is a much more exciting game. P also played the lotto machines because numbers (rather than fruit) hold greater symbolic possibilities.
Thanks,
Preston
My favorite games are Omaha hi-low, as far as cards are concerned and Wheel of Fortune, as far as slots are concerned.
In the book, P played Texas Hold'em because it is a game America is hooked on, though I personally believe that Omaha is a much more exciting game. P also played the lotto machines because numbers (rather than fruit) hold greater symbolic possibilities.
Thanks,
Preston
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