A couple of posts ago, I mentioned all the distractions in my usual place for writing. I decided that instead of fighting them, I would see if they led to anything. At least I would delve further into the characters in the soap opera on the TV.
Today the TV was extra loud because the ACC Playoffs were on. For Sportsball fans, that's basketball, and the only reason I knew what was going on was because a game was being played a couple of hours away from me. The game came complete with chanting cheerleaders, shrill whistles and sneakers squeaking against polished wood. In the kitchen, there was a contemporary rock station playing a "great mix of yesterday's and today's hits". Under the basketball squeaking, tweeting, cheering and commentating, the music sounded like drums and humming. Here's where my mind traveled amid all of the stimuli.
I started out by thinking of the outline for my novel. The protagonist was about to escape a school formal with the love of her young life, to the chagrin of her date. They will rocket off into the night on a borrowed motorcycle and soon find themselves in unexpected danger. It is an echo of the trouble that originally brought them together.
"Virginia shot 63% from the field." In another field, one made of pixels, I recently watched my son control a knight astride his warhorse. Enemies charged toward him, lances lowered. An arrow thunked into his shield. "Wow! That startled me!" He was all smiles and determination. Even virtual arrows can be scary when you're not expecting them.
"I can feel it coming in the air tonight. Oh, Lord." Man, Phil Collins used to rock. The first time I heard that song, my dad was younger than I am now. Thinking of my dad made me remember a special first day of fishing season with him. I plan to write about that in a later blog entry. It will appear here a little bit closer to its anniversary in early April.
"That's his first foul." Foul reminds me of baseball, and that makes me remember that I need to grab the wiffle ball bat from the closest and put it in my car. The balls are still rolling around in the trunk, never deposited inside after fall grew cold. It became a 15 or 20 minute daily routine after picking up my son from school. He developed a pretty good swing last year, despite my poor pitching. He mentioned it a few days ago when it was unseasonably warm. Unfortunately it's still pretty soggy on our usual playing field, but it's quickly warming up and drying out.
"Push it! Push it real good!" My son looked at me and my wife with disbelief and not a little pity. We were playing some popular music from our high school days. I had been singing this one while he and I pushed our trash and recycling containers out to the street for pick-up. Once inside, we played the song and danced around, while he stared open-mouthed at the horror before him. I wondered if I looked at my parents the same way when they did the twist in my childhood living room.
"...and 8 assists!" I was talking with a co-worker who was looking into assisted living for his parents. We discussed how difficult it must be to transition into old age, leaving unspoken that our days would come. I told him a story I heard from a friend a long time ago. One of his neighbors, faced with the fact that his kids intended to place him in a "home", rowed himself out to the middle of a secluded lake and blew his boat (and person) to bits with dynamite. My co-worker opined that he hoped he had the presence of mind to go out on his own terms when his time came. I personally like to think I will have my mind downloaded into a robot by then.
I think my novel's protagonists will seek out a romantic lakeside locale for their escape from the prom: moonlight on the water, crickets chirping and no TV. Absolutely no dynamite. Sometimes something productive does come out of the distractions after all.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015
May My Inspirations Forgive Me
I like castles, sword fights, orcs, dragons and undead sorcerers as much as the next geek. I've read literally a ton of of fantasy novels, some heavier than others, since I was a wee lad. For every fantasy novel that I read to completion, there are probably three that I bookmark and shelve unfinished. It makes me wonder, despite having a few ideas for fantasy novels that I really like, if I will ever write anything in the fantasy genre.
I'm extremely picky about my fantasy reading. I stumbled upon "The Black Company", by Glen Cook, at an early age, and I immediately took to the darker side of the genre. The sub-genre "grimdark" sums up my reading preferences pretty well, though this is also used to describe other genres of fiction that are particularly violent and dystopian. I've read other types of fantasy, but I always come back to the grimdark works for pure reading satisfaction. Some grimdark goes out of its way to stomp on heroics and romanticism. This is almost as bad as some of the more syrupy, black-and-white, happy-ending stuff I've read. It's just as predictable. You only have to imagine the worst possible outcome for the characters, and you've figured out most of the story. I've read some novels that made me feel horribly depressed, yet some of them are still great reads. Even though they were heartbreaking, I felt compelled to finish them and see just how badly the protagonists wound up. Sometimes they died, and sometimes they just had more scars to carry into the sequel.
My favorite fantasies are character-driven and told from multiple points of view. Some are long-winded and others almost terse in their descriptions, but all of them somehow take what I've read many times before and make it into something novel and compelling.
I don't know if I can do that.
I would hate to spend the effort building a fantasy world and populating it with interesting characters, only to find at some point that I had unintentionally ripped off another author's ideas. To me, it seems like fantasy is the genre where this will be the most likely. I've read interviews with authors who have claimed that it's inevitable for this to happen. They encourage the telling of these tales anyway, with the caveat that one needs to write in an original voice to make it work. I can't help but think that anything I wrote would sound like an impersonation of my favorite writers. How many other things have I written that are derivative of authors I've never read? Probably at least a few.
I won't let this stop me from writing. I enjoy it too much. I may take another stab at the fantasy genre at some point, too. There are certainly a lot of other authors writing in the genre, so I can't imagine all of them are creating unique stories after all the fantasy novels that have come before. Maybe fans of fantasy will be ready to hear my voice one day. I hope they'll be nice enough to forgive me for any unintentional similarities with my predecessors.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Shhhhhhh!
I'm very easily distracted nowadays. There was once a time when I had incredible focus, but that only lasted through junior high or so. Maybe puberty was the beginning of the end for my concentration. It became more and more difficult to study, until I finally realized that I needed a minimal amount of stimulation from my environment if I were ever going to get my homework done. I could even distract myself at times, hammering out a beat on my notebook with a pencil even though the music was only in my mind.
It's even worse as an adult. That's why it's so hard for me to get writing done, even when I have some down time to do it. It's like there's always something pulling at my attention, but it's especially bad if there's any noise around at all. I have to sequester myself somewhere completely quiet if I want to be truly productive. Home is sometimes the worst because my house is small, and there's nearly always noise of some kind: TV, stereo,child, pets, traffic, etc. A lot of the noises come from happiness, and I certainly don't want to hush them. Even so, I've got to write. It's what I want to do with the rest of my life. I decided that I could get more writing done on my lunch breaks at work and leave things like typing. blogging and research for the evenings at home.
My writing place of choice during lunch was always the break room. Normally this might seem odd, but it was usually empty whenever I would go. There were a succession of snack bar managers that just couldn't seem to make things work. The food was pretty bad, the staff were unfriendly and the tables were always sticky. Most people avoided the place except to buy soda from the vending machines. It was perfect. I would head there a little late to avoid the few customers, and then I would have the place to myself.
The new management is great. The food is excellent, the staff are customer service pros and the place is so clean that it's like someplace you would want to eat. There's upbeat pop music on the radio in the kitchen and always jovial conversation among the numerous customers. There's even a new TV blaring from its wall mount, with no remote control or visible volume buttons in sight. For me, I might as well be in an airport terminal.
Some days I just give up and try to catch up on emails on my phone instead of writing. It's disheartening to sit over a blank page for 30 or 40 minutes, knowing I will have to wait a full day to see if conditions are more conducive to writing. There's a break room in an adjacent building where I once spent my whole break alone. I wrote the whole time, grinning like a lunatic. I told myself it was a new beginning, a dawn of productivity and creative release. The next day at the same time, the place was full. I didn't even go inside, just turned around and went back to sit in front of the TV.
Every once in a while, when my inspiration is peaked, I can scratch out a couple of pages despite the distractions. The language is usually pretty plain and uninspired, as I just try to address the major plot points before I forget something. Occasional song lyrics get through from the radio, and I try to drive them out with more furious scribbling. The tired soap opera intrigue on the TV sometimes generates unwanted questions in my mind. Will Jessica and Peter ever get back together? Which of the children will receive Victor's inheritance? I don't care enough to pay attention on purpose. It's not like I'm watching it. It's just a struggle to tune the actors out and concentrate.
Lately I've been sitting in my car to write. It's often warmer than the cube farm where I work, where for some reason the A/C blasts during winter. Noises are muffled through the window and door seals. It smells lemony, like the cough drop that has melted and stuck to the bottom of my cup holder. Eventually it will get too hot to sit there in the afternoon, but maybe I can drive around the block to find a shady spot. I have a feeling it's going to be the place where I can be the most productive.
I think next week, I'll try something new. Instead of trying to concentrate in the break room, I'll let all of the noise, TV dialogue and song lyrics pour into my head. Then I'll just starting writing a stream of consciousness, going wherever the distractions take me. It might be fun to see what comes out of the experience. Jessica, Peter...I just know you kids are going to make it.
It's even worse as an adult. That's why it's so hard for me to get writing done, even when I have some down time to do it. It's like there's always something pulling at my attention, but it's especially bad if there's any noise around at all. I have to sequester myself somewhere completely quiet if I want to be truly productive. Home is sometimes the worst because my house is small, and there's nearly always noise of some kind: TV, stereo,child, pets, traffic, etc. A lot of the noises come from happiness, and I certainly don't want to hush them. Even so, I've got to write. It's what I want to do with the rest of my life. I decided that I could get more writing done on my lunch breaks at work and leave things like typing. blogging and research for the evenings at home.
My writing place of choice during lunch was always the break room. Normally this might seem odd, but it was usually empty whenever I would go. There were a succession of snack bar managers that just couldn't seem to make things work. The food was pretty bad, the staff were unfriendly and the tables were always sticky. Most people avoided the place except to buy soda from the vending machines. It was perfect. I would head there a little late to avoid the few customers, and then I would have the place to myself.
The new management is great. The food is excellent, the staff are customer service pros and the place is so clean that it's like someplace you would want to eat. There's upbeat pop music on the radio in the kitchen and always jovial conversation among the numerous customers. There's even a new TV blaring from its wall mount, with no remote control or visible volume buttons in sight. For me, I might as well be in an airport terminal.
Some days I just give up and try to catch up on emails on my phone instead of writing. It's disheartening to sit over a blank page for 30 or 40 minutes, knowing I will have to wait a full day to see if conditions are more conducive to writing. There's a break room in an adjacent building where I once spent my whole break alone. I wrote the whole time, grinning like a lunatic. I told myself it was a new beginning, a dawn of productivity and creative release. The next day at the same time, the place was full. I didn't even go inside, just turned around and went back to sit in front of the TV.
Every once in a while, when my inspiration is peaked, I can scratch out a couple of pages despite the distractions. The language is usually pretty plain and uninspired, as I just try to address the major plot points before I forget something. Occasional song lyrics get through from the radio, and I try to drive them out with more furious scribbling. The tired soap opera intrigue on the TV sometimes generates unwanted questions in my mind. Will Jessica and Peter ever get back together? Which of the children will receive Victor's inheritance? I don't care enough to pay attention on purpose. It's not like I'm watching it. It's just a struggle to tune the actors out and concentrate.
Lately I've been sitting in my car to write. It's often warmer than the cube farm where I work, where for some reason the A/C blasts during winter. Noises are muffled through the window and door seals. It smells lemony, like the cough drop that has melted and stuck to the bottom of my cup holder. Eventually it will get too hot to sit there in the afternoon, but maybe I can drive around the block to find a shady spot. I have a feeling it's going to be the place where I can be the most productive.
I think next week, I'll try something new. Instead of trying to concentrate in the break room, I'll let all of the noise, TV dialogue and song lyrics pour into my head. Then I'll just starting writing a stream of consciousness, going wherever the distractions take me. It might be fun to see what comes out of the experience. Jessica, Peter...I just know you kids are going to make it.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Scare Me Slowly
Zombies are everywhere. Don't worry. I mean they're very popular in entertainment right now: movies, TV, toys, games. There are plague zombies, alien zombies, magical zombies, cyborg zombies and others I no doubt haven't seen. Some of these are bone-chilling, some of them are lukewarm and some of them are a complete waste of time. Some of these zombies even sprint after their prey, and I've got to say that I much prefer the tried-and-true slow zombie in my horror entertainment.
I've liked scary stories ever since I was a kid. Unfortunately it seems like the more I experienced, the harder it was to scare me. After a while, I couldn't get scared by most of the stuff I watched or read. It was very disappointing to sit down in anticipation of something terrifying and wind up with with a snooze. Maybe it was just a sign that I was growing up. As movies stretched for more shock value, I cringed with every sequel, wondering why the second or fifth of a series was ever made when the first installment was so wretched. The end result was that I gave up on the horror genre for a long time.
Through it all, zombies have been my consistent nightmare of choice. I can find a movie on Netflix that involves zombies, and I catch myself getting excited about a possible gem. I'll watch a movie with running zombies, but it never seems to have the same effect on me as a shuffling horde of undead. A running zombie might as well be a charging lion to me. The tension is over too quickly. I never get a chance to feel the fear crawling up into my belly, knotting me up, causing me to squint and grind my teeth as someone gets chomped.
Any good story, in my opinion, relies upon characters that I can grow to like or like to hate. This is even more important to me in a book or movie, where I know some of the characters are not going to survive. As I grow to like a character, the tension is more intense when her life is danger, or when she has to make a painful choice. It's even better when death by zombie seems inevitable, but the heroes struggle on to defy the odds. The dead, of course, outnumber the living. That's why it's a zombie apocalypse and not a zombie nuisance.
Everywhere the heroes go is infested with zombies. Nobody is scared of a slowly stumbling zombie, but a few, a dozen, hundreds are terrifying. They don't sleep, and they certainly defy injury. At some point, their numbers can topple a fence, fill a trench to make a bridge, break down a door or smother a fire. Their moaning is a constant reminder that they are closer than you want them to be. Any mistake by the heroes can mean that they will become another one of the shuffling dead. Will his friends be willing to put down their reanimated buddy? There is horror to be found in empathizing with people faced with that kind of choice. I find this far more heartbreaking than watching somebody chased down and devoured by the fast zombies. It's the horror after the horror.
I plan to keep riding high on this wave of zombie popularity. Even if only a small fraction of the material to come out of it is good, statistically there should be a few greats. The Walking Dead continues to be my favorite at the moment. The zombies walk, limp or crawl, and the characters are well developed. I keep hoping to stumble upon some decent zombie apocalypse books, but I haven't read any other than Max Brooks' World War Z. If you know of any, please leave me the titles or authors' names in the comments.
I'm off to watch The Walking Dead.
I'm off to watch The Walking Dead.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Make the Most of Your Snowpocalypse
I think this is the third time in a week that my Governor has declared a State of Emergency. Not since the Jamaican bobsled team have I felt that anybody was this ill prepared for winter. It's a lot easier for me to joke around about all the snow/sleet/ice we received, since I never lost power at my house. We were very fortunate. Other people in my neighborhood were unable to make French Toast with all of the bread, milk and eggs they bought at the store before the storm. I made brownies.
It occurred to me that there are people who like snow. It's a novelty for some of them down here, since they're natives. For us (damned) Yankees, it's something we tried to leave behind when we moved here. We chose to live in a state where we can go to a dozen stores and not find a sled or a snow shovel. My claim to have once seen a snowplow is sometimes challenged as if I had said the Loch Ness Monster pulled me around on water skis. It's easy to romanticize something and look forward to it with childlike glee if it's rare. If most of your winter childhood memories involved stocking the cellar with wood, hours of shoveling and wearing bread bags on your feet (to keep feet dry inside wet boots, of course), then watching snow fly in the south probably makes you apoplectic.
Romantic: Look how the sun sparkles from the dusting of snowflakes in my Love's hair! Has she ever been so beautiful?
Cynic: The snow's melting, and cold water is running down the back of my neck. It somehow trickled all the way down to my butt crack, and it's still freezing!
Romantic: The trees look like a Christmas card, all covered in powdery white!
Cynic: Branches snapped and fell on power lines, causing thousands of people to suffer without light or heat for most of the day. A limb crushed my fence!
Romantic: The snow blankets the earth, as though she sleeps, only to burst forth in verdant splendor come Spring!
Cynic: When this crap melts, my lawn will turn into a sloppy mess for a week.
I have to admit, that the light dusting of snow we normally get down here is fun to watch. It rarely accumulates or causes problems. I sometimes manage to clear my whole driveway with only a broom. Even what frozen precipitation we've received over the past few days pales in comparison to what people up north have dealt with this year. So, lest you think I'm needlessly complaining, I do feel lucky to experience these snow storms so rarely. Besides, tornado season starts next week!
It occurred to me that there are people who like snow. It's a novelty for some of them down here, since they're natives. For us (damned) Yankees, it's something we tried to leave behind when we moved here. We chose to live in a state where we can go to a dozen stores and not find a sled or a snow shovel. My claim to have once seen a snowplow is sometimes challenged as if I had said the Loch Ness Monster pulled me around on water skis. It's easy to romanticize something and look forward to it with childlike glee if it's rare. If most of your winter childhood memories involved stocking the cellar with wood, hours of shoveling and wearing bread bags on your feet (to keep feet dry inside wet boots, of course), then watching snow fly in the south probably makes you apoplectic.
Romantic: Look how the sun sparkles from the dusting of snowflakes in my Love's hair! Has she ever been so beautiful?
Cynic: The snow's melting, and cold water is running down the back of my neck. It somehow trickled all the way down to my butt crack, and it's still freezing!
Romantic: The trees look like a Christmas card, all covered in powdery white!
Cynic: Branches snapped and fell on power lines, causing thousands of people to suffer without light or heat for most of the day. A limb crushed my fence!
Romantic: The snow blankets the earth, as though she sleeps, only to burst forth in verdant splendor come Spring!
Cynic: When this crap melts, my lawn will turn into a sloppy mess for a week.
I have to admit, that the light dusting of snow we normally get down here is fun to watch. It rarely accumulates or causes problems. I sometimes manage to clear my whole driveway with only a broom. Even what frozen precipitation we've received over the past few days pales in comparison to what people up north have dealt with this year. So, lest you think I'm needlessly complaining, I do feel lucky to experience these snow storms so rarely. Besides, tornado season starts next week!
Sunday, February 22, 2015
More Thank You's
Recently my publisher gave me a set of interview questions to answer. Some of these will appear in the special edition electronic issue of Nonlocal Science Fiction #1. Most of the others will be used as talking points for an interview on the podcast of 33rd St. Digital Press sometime in the next couple of months.
One of the questions asked who I would specifically like to thank for their contributions toward my story. I didn't want to leave out anybody, so I just thanked all my friends and family who have been very supportive of my dream to write. It's been an ambition of mine for so long that the list would be very extensive. I would undoubtedly forget to include somebody, and I didn't want to do that. I've certainly had my share of rejections and negative criticism over the years, but I've overwhelmingly been supported by the people closest to me. So here are a few of the many I would like to thank, since I feel like I have space enough here to do it.
Thanks, Mom. You've always encouraged my dreams, and this writing thing has been one for as long as I can remember. There have been times when I've been discouraged by setbacks and life's ups and downs over the years, and you have always been there to remind me that I should never give up on something so important to me.
Thanks, Margay. In our dating years, you knew I liked to write and still returned my calls. Despite the amount of time it involves, when I need to be alone to think or jot something down, you understand. When I space out, you never flinch when I say I'm thinking about something I'm writing. Writing is a solitary profession. I couldn't pursue it without your help in taking care of real-life stuff during the hours I'm consumed with fake people living fake lives in the pages of my notebooks.
Thanks, Jonah. Around 30 years ago, you published a small town newspaper using your own printing press. I was honored that you saw fit to publish a couple of my stories. The thrill of seeing my writing in print has not diminished over those years, and you gave me my first break.
Thanks (in no particular order) to Rob, Cliff, Abrar, Anwar, Gaff, Michael, William, Darren, Noah, Brian, Eric and Kurt. All of you, at one point or another, gamed with me over the years. Some of you still do. War Hammer, Star Frontiers, Star Wars, GURPS, Gamma World, Rolemaster, Shadowrun, Vampire, Marvel, D&D, Rifts... We've spent untold hours immersed in adventure together around tables with dice, and those memories have played their parts in many things I've written and will write in the future.
I'll make sure to let you know when the interview goes live on the podcast. Thanks again for reading.
One of the questions asked who I would specifically like to thank for their contributions toward my story. I didn't want to leave out anybody, so I just thanked all my friends and family who have been very supportive of my dream to write. It's been an ambition of mine for so long that the list would be very extensive. I would undoubtedly forget to include somebody, and I didn't want to do that. I've certainly had my share of rejections and negative criticism over the years, but I've overwhelmingly been supported by the people closest to me. So here are a few of the many I would like to thank, since I feel like I have space enough here to do it.
Thanks, Mom. You've always encouraged my dreams, and this writing thing has been one for as long as I can remember. There have been times when I've been discouraged by setbacks and life's ups and downs over the years, and you have always been there to remind me that I should never give up on something so important to me.
Thanks, Margay. In our dating years, you knew I liked to write and still returned my calls. Despite the amount of time it involves, when I need to be alone to think or jot something down, you understand. When I space out, you never flinch when I say I'm thinking about something I'm writing. Writing is a solitary profession. I couldn't pursue it without your help in taking care of real-life stuff during the hours I'm consumed with fake people living fake lives in the pages of my notebooks.
Thanks, Jonah. Around 30 years ago, you published a small town newspaper using your own printing press. I was honored that you saw fit to publish a couple of my stories. The thrill of seeing my writing in print has not diminished over those years, and you gave me my first break.
Thanks (in no particular order) to Rob, Cliff, Abrar, Anwar, Gaff, Michael, William, Darren, Noah, Brian, Eric and Kurt. All of you, at one point or another, gamed with me over the years. Some of you still do. War Hammer, Star Frontiers, Star Wars, GURPS, Gamma World, Rolemaster, Shadowrun, Vampire, Marvel, D&D, Rifts... We've spent untold hours immersed in adventure together around tables with dice, and those memories have played their parts in many things I've written and will write in the future.
I'll make sure to let you know when the interview goes live on the podcast. Thanks again for reading.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Healthy Skepticism: Keeping Your PC and Personal Information Safe
Got a strong password? Check. Utilizing a firewall? Check. Anti-Virus software up to date? Check. Familiar with social engineering tactics? Wait...what?
Social engineering can employ a lot of tactics. They can include somebody digging through your trash to find your bank statement and get your account number. Here I'm primarily discussing running a con. Somebody calls you on the phone and identifies himself as a technical support agent from Microsoft or an anti-virus company, hoping you'll give him remote access to your computer. This allows him to get around your password, and suddenly he has control of your PC. He can log your keystrokes to get your passwords, install malicious software and sometimes talk you into paying to remove said software.
I personally know people who have been victimized by callers impersonating representatives from Microsoft or contractors for Microsoft. Each time, the caller has used a combination of publicly available personal data, technical jargon and high-pressure sales tactics (aggression, fear, urgency) to convince people that their computers are already infected with malware. These victims were then convinced that the callers would help remove these non-existent threats by remotely accessing the victims' computers. Upon accessing the PC, the caller installed fake anti-virus software that "found" malware. The fake anti-virus program allowed the caller to hijack the victim's computer and demand payment to release it. In one case I know of, the victim tried to shutdown his PC but found moving his mouse had no effect. Before he could power off the PC, the caller initiated a process that wiped his hard drive.
These types of attacks are becoming more common and sophisticated. It's especially easy for an unsuspecting person, who is also unfamiliar with these threats, to be fooled. That's how social engineering is best employed. Preying upon those who are less technically savvy is even easier. Where someone bothered by a telemarketer might just hang up the phone, combining fear of computer viruses with sales tactics seems to convince people to remain on the line and even give up control of their computers. It's diabolically evil, in my opinion. What's worse? There's not really anything technical companies can do about it to protect people. This type of attack relies upon people conning other people.
Microsoft will NEVER call you and offer you free technical support. They aren't alerted when there's a problem with your PC or a virus detection made by your anti-virus software. I can't remember the last time Microsoft offered me anything for free, and they're certainly not psychic. Listen to your instincts. Don't trust the sales pitch. Don't give them access. Hang up the phone. You can't put them out of business, but you can protect yourself by cutting off the call. You can also protect other people by spreading the word about these attacks. Let's help each other fight the bad guys.
Social engineering can employ a lot of tactics. They can include somebody digging through your trash to find your bank statement and get your account number. Here I'm primarily discussing running a con. Somebody calls you on the phone and identifies himself as a technical support agent from Microsoft or an anti-virus company, hoping you'll give him remote access to your computer. This allows him to get around your password, and suddenly he has control of your PC. He can log your keystrokes to get your passwords, install malicious software and sometimes talk you into paying to remove said software.
I personally know people who have been victimized by callers impersonating representatives from Microsoft or contractors for Microsoft. Each time, the caller has used a combination of publicly available personal data, technical jargon and high-pressure sales tactics (aggression, fear, urgency) to convince people that their computers are already infected with malware. These victims were then convinced that the callers would help remove these non-existent threats by remotely accessing the victims' computers. Upon accessing the PC, the caller installed fake anti-virus software that "found" malware. The fake anti-virus program allowed the caller to hijack the victim's computer and demand payment to release it. In one case I know of, the victim tried to shutdown his PC but found moving his mouse had no effect. Before he could power off the PC, the caller initiated a process that wiped his hard drive.
These types of attacks are becoming more common and sophisticated. It's especially easy for an unsuspecting person, who is also unfamiliar with these threats, to be fooled. That's how social engineering is best employed. Preying upon those who are less technically savvy is even easier. Where someone bothered by a telemarketer might just hang up the phone, combining fear of computer viruses with sales tactics seems to convince people to remain on the line and even give up control of their computers. It's diabolically evil, in my opinion. What's worse? There's not really anything technical companies can do about it to protect people. This type of attack relies upon people conning other people.
Microsoft will NEVER call you and offer you free technical support. They aren't alerted when there's a problem with your PC or a virus detection made by your anti-virus software. I can't remember the last time Microsoft offered me anything for free, and they're certainly not psychic. Listen to your instincts. Don't trust the sales pitch. Don't give them access. Hang up the phone. You can't put them out of business, but you can protect yourself by cutting off the call. You can also protect other people by spreading the word about these attacks. Let's help each other fight the bad guys.
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