The political crannies of the 'net seem to be abuzz with debates as to whether or not Sarah Palin is going to run for president. I don't know what's in her heart or plans but I'd like to suggest that the folks debating her intentions are missing a key point.

There's "running for president" the way people named Bush or Clinton run for president, which is because they think they have a good chance of winning and that's the goal. There's also "running for president" the way it's been done by Pat Buchanan and Ralph Nader and (I guess) Ron Paul and others, which is as a way to get attention and to perhaps attain other, lesser goals. None of those gents ever thought they'd win but they thought there was a value to being a candidate. Maybe it promoted their causes, maybe it promoted them, maybe there was even some money in it. So they "ran."

I think Sarah Palin is at least running for president in the Buchanan/Nader sense. She may well have it in her head that it's not impossible that could bleed into the other kind of candidacy…but she attracts crowds and press just by running in any sense. At the very least, she has much to lose by closing the door to a 2012 bid for the White House. So she's always going to leave that door as wide open as she can.

This is from Brian Earl Brown…

I've enjoyed your series on advice to the person who was starting out writing. There's one point I don't think has been mentioned. In the original letter that inspired this series it seemed like the guy was saying "I've written a number of comic book scripts now, so why aren't work assignments falling into my lap?" As if he were entitled to the work.

I know, and I'm sure you do too, very talented writers who aren't getting any work and it's not because they were late with scripts or had writer's block. They happened to work for editors who had other ideas, wanted to give a friend a break or what have you and suddenly they're on the outside looking in. Something every writer needs to remember is that they have to work for each assignment. Nothing they've done in the past means they're owed work today.

I don't completely agree with this. I can think of any number of cases where I believe some writer was owed if not work then at least a special consideration. Sometimes — often, in fact — you go above and beyond what you're being paid to do on a job…and there's that understanding, explicit or implicit, that they'll make it up to you on future assignments. Or there's sometimes an agreement — and again, it may be pretty clearly voiced — that if you'll take on difficult jobs for low rates, they'll at least keep 'em coming. And when someone creates a new comic or character, I sure don't think they should later have to audition for work on it like an absolute beginner.

Even in the absence of something of this sort, past service to a company should not be totally forgotten. It isn't in any other line of work. Yes, you're right: A writer has to continue to deliver the goods. But I do think that what they've done in the past ought to matter.

It especially should not be held against them. We've had instances in comics where, as you say, a new editor wanted to give a friend a break — nothing wrong with that — but we've also had editors who assumed (often, wrongly) that newer, younger talent would have newer, fresher ideas, or who just plain didn't want anyone around who'd been there longer than them. Some bosses feel threatened by anyone with more seniority or a lack of indebtedness. I even once heard an editor admit, in a scary burst of candor, "I don't want anyone working for me who doesn't owe their career to me." That guy replaced a lot of good, experienced people with mediocre, inexperienced folks and, by the way, didn't last long in the position.

I don't think the fellow I scolded about lateness thought he was entitled to the work, so much as that he thought that once he was established, getting assignments should get easier. And he's right. It should…and it usually does. Once you're an established, known quantity in any field, it's easier…unless, of course, you develop a bad reputation. That was this writer's mistake. By being late, he'd developed a bad rep. He could also have achieved that by handing in bad work on time. My friend Mike Royer, who's as dependable and professional as anyone who's ever worked in comics, likes to quote a veteran cartoonist named Sparky Moore. Sparky used to say, "You get your first job based on your ability and the rest based on your reli-ability." There's something to that, especially if you define "reli-ability" to include being able to maintain your standard of work.

All of this discussion though of how to get work is skirting the most important factor. Even if you constantly produce quality material on time, there's another very good reason why you might not get hired or be able to sell what you write or draw. It's the same reason good, reliable actors are often unemployed.

And I'm sorry for the cliffhanger but I have to go deal with a dead car today. My old one has breathed its last and I'm dickering for its successor. So I don't have time now to do justice to the topic of what I call The Big Reason freelancers and creative people often go without jobs. I'll try to write about it before the weekend is out. Thank you for the message, Brian. I agree with you…some of the time, which isn't bad. I don't even agree with myself all of the time.

Michael Joseph Gross has a pretty unflattering portrait of Sarah Palin over at Vanity Fair. To those of us who don't like her, all of this is unsurprising and obvious. To those who like her, it's all irrelevant. Everything is except for the fact that she pisses off the "right" (that is to say, "left") people.

We sincerely recommend you tune in Stu's Show today. Stu Shostak will be interviewing Hank Garrett — a funny, delightful man who has done enough in show business to fill several Stu's Shows. He was, for example, a star in the professional wrestling game, back when pro wrestling was more than just The Jerry Springer Show with less violence. Hank could easily fill the two hours just with tales of his exploits in the ring, wrassling with the greats.

But then Hank changed careers. That photo of him above left does not mean he became a policeman. He became an actor, joining the cast of one of the all-time great sitcoms, Car 54, Where Are You? The show starred Fred Gwynne and Joe E. Ross, and I think Hank may be the last surviving member of the regular cast. He has wonderful stories about that show (and about Joe E. Ross, in particular) and could spend the whole two hours with them.

However, it would be a shame to just do that and not have him talk about his other acting jobs…like his roles in Death Wish, Harry & Tonto, Serpico, Johnny Dangerously and dozens of others…his critically-acclaimed role in Three Days of the Condor…heck, this guy was even in The Producers. He's been in a hundred-plus TV programs and supplied voices for cartoon shows like G.I. Joe and Garfield. He was a stand-up comedian. He's worked with everyone from Sophia Loren to O.J. Simpson. He's…

Okay, okay. You get the idea. The guy's done everything and he'll be talking about it on Stu's Show today. On the West Coast, it's from 4 PM 'til 6 PM. On the East Coast, it's 7 PM until 9 PM. In other climes, you should be able to figure out when to tune in…and you tune in by browsing your way over to Shokus Internet Radio. Click where they tell you to click and you'll be listening in as Stu interviews one of my favorite people. Don't miss this one.

The big Iraq War cheerleader John Cole admitted how much he got wrong. That's one.

Lenny Bruce wrote in his autobiography that he got a discharge from the Navy back in World War II by faking homosexuality. Someone has located proof of this.

Jeremy W. writes…

I was impressed with your advice to writers about being late with their work. What advice can you give to those of us who have trouble summoning up the muse on demand? I have trouble creating with a deadline. When I don't have a deadline, I'm usually able to come up with something that I like. When they tell me it has to be in on Tuesday, I freeze up and have trouble concentrating. What can you suggest?

Well, my first piece of advice ties in with all that counsel about not being late. If deadlines inhibit you, try to get started A.S.A.P., which makes the deadline that much less threatening and formidable. If it has to be in on Tuesday, don't wait 'til Sunday night or Monday morning to get started.

My second piece of advice is to search for the spine of what you're doing. If you're having trouble getting started, you may not really know where it is you have to go. Let's say the chore at hand is to write a commercial for cheese-straighteners. Ask yourself what it's really about: Why should anyone buy a cheese-straightener? Why should they buy your cheese-straightener? What is it about cheese-straighteners that people need to hear?

If you can't answer those questions, maybe you don't know enough about this project to write it and you need to turn your attention there. If you have to write a story about a talking gerbil, ask yourself what it is about this particular talking gerbil that interests you and would interest someone else? Again, if you can't answer that question, there's where the problem is located.

Or maybe you don't have enough of an assignment. Stephen Sondheim used to say that the most difficult job was when someone comes to him and says, "Just write a song" or "Just write a song about love." There are simply too many starting places in a task of that sort. On the other hand, if someone approaches him and suggests, "Write a song about a lady sitting at a bar whose boyfriend has just dumped her and she's feeling sorry for herself," then he has something to build on.

If an editor tells you, "Write me a fantasy story" and that's all the direction you have, maybe you need to impose a discipline on yourself. Maybe you need to arbitrarily pick something you care about — you're mad at your sister, you're afraid of grasshoppers, you love ham, whatever — and use that feeling as a foundation on which to build. You may wind up writing about something else but that could get you started. And moving — even in the wrong direction — can often be preferable to not moving at all.

That's especially true if you're the kind of writer that I hope you are, and which I try to be. That's the kind that's prolific but who recognizes that sometimes, you have to throw out everything you wrote yesterday.

You have to like what you write, at least when you write it, but not so much that you can't bring yourself to toss it into the dumpster and rebuild. Fear of spending time and energy writing the wrong thing can be very inhibiting for a writer. Given the choice, I would rather write for three hours and then delete it all than spend those three hours staring at the screen, trying to think of the perfect thing to write. The latter usually doesn't lead me to knowing what I want to write, whereas the former usually does.

Which brings me to the best cure for Writer's Block I've ever come up with. It's so good that I can't believe I'm the first or even the millionth to come up with it. It's to decide to write something you're definitely going to throw away…and to make it childish and utterly self-indulgent.

You're stuck on what to write…where to start or how to pick up on a script or article you started on and have to finish. Instead of spending the next hour or two banging your head against the stucco, try this. Spend that time writing something that wallows in the most adolescent, shameful fantasy you have.

Pick the person in your life, past or present, you most despise. Write a story about how you got total revenge on them and they came to you begging for forgiveness. Or you can go a sexual route with this. Remember that kid who sat across from you in Geometry in High School? The one you lusted after but who treated you like you had smallpox? Write a story about how that person came to you and begged you to have sex with them.

Forget about logic or typos or clever verbiage. Just tell the story in direct, earthy terms. When you're done with it, read it over once, delete it and turn back to the thing you have to write. If that doesn't unjam your writing muscles and get them limber and functioning, then I would consider another line of work.

I'm serious about that. Imagine a dentist who had days when he couldn't bear to fill a cavity or file down some old lady's lower bridge. Maybe he shouldn't be doing that for a living anymore. You don't have to be a writer, you know. It's not compulsory.

There are quotes where famous writers like Dorothy Parker say things like, "I hate writing but I love having written." I never think that attitude makes a writer intriguing or colorful or anything of the sort, just as I never think that suffering for one's art automatically makes the art any better.

Some of us have bad, non-productive periods and that's usually something else, something that (probably) has to do with some aspect of our lives other than the pure writing part. I'm not talking about the times that are the exceptions. I'm talking about if you constantly find that writing gives you headaches and a need for Maalox™ and if you're starting to find it an unpleasant chore to stop playing Spider Solitaire and use your computer for the reason you got it in the first place.

When writers tell me how painful writing can be for them, I respond with something like, "No one's forcing you to be a writer and it's inconceivable that it's the only thing you can do in this world. Go do one of those other things."

Invariably, they say, "Aren't there times when you hate writing?" I tell them no. I may not like certain jobs or certain people I have to work with…but hey, if I were selling porta-potties, I probably wouldn't like every customer that came in to buy a porta-potty. Don't confuse a bad gig with a bad profession.

I've been doing this for 41 years because I enjoy it and can't think of anything attainable I'd enjoy more. I also can't think of too many moves stupider than doing something you don't like for 41 years if you have any choice in the matter. If you're a writer who doesn't love writing, find another profession…something you'd gladly do for the next 41 years without complaining about it all the time. You'll do yourself — and your friends and your family and maybe even your audience — a tremendous favor.

Number seven in a series…