Fifty-five Million Reasons to Change the Lottery System

 Mike Bodnar wants more people to win lotteries...

As I write this, the New Zealand lottery has 'jackpotted' to NZ$55 million. Even if I don't buy a
ticket for the next draw, there's one thing I will bet on: many, many more people will do just that. Because greed. Or desperation. Or because they've just been pulled back off the road by a stranger who saved them from stepping in front of a bus, and the hero says, 'Think you'd better buy a lottery ticket, mate.'

Whatever, everyone, it seems, wants to be super wealthy. For this we can perhaps blame Bezos, Musk, Thiel and all the other multi-billionaires around the world - along with the wealthy celebs (I'm lookin' at you, Taylor Swift) - who are able to indulge in their every whim regardless of cost. Musk et al don't even have to book first class, because, of course, they have their own jets. They certainly wouldn't ever wonder how they were going to pay the next winter energy bill. Why would you when you could just buy the energy company?

I mean, imagine having an income of US$1 trillion annually (which Musk is in line for after 75% of his shareholders voted in favour of the obscene 'salary.' Seriously.); that's over $83 billion a month, or $19 billion per week, or - imagine it - $2.7 billion per day. Nobody, I repeat, nobody can spend that kind of money on a daily basis. They could give it away of course, but do they? By and large, no.

To scale that down a bit, someone in Aotearoa/New Zealand could, this week, win NZ$55 million, which, even without investing it, would mean a daily income of over $150,000 dollars. Even this relatively miniscule amount (compared to the billionaires and trillionaires) would be almost impossible to spend. It would, however, be easier to give away, but there's no guarantee that a winner will automatically be a philanthropist. Probably just the -pist bit.

However, if the winner took it all (there's a song in that...) and did spend at that rate, they
would have a zero bank balance in about 12 months. So, some investment would be prudent, along with judicious spending and ongoing fund management. I could help with that.

I would, though, argue that nobody in Aotearoa/New Zealand needs $55 million. Nobody. Unless - and it's a big unless - they really are of a philanthropic nature and wish to set up educational trusts for example, say in multi-disciplinary areas for the less advantaged. There's no shortage of need. But - to use an appropriate analogy - what are the odds?

Speaking of need however, there are almost certainly 55 people in the country who could absolutely do with 'just' a million dollars, and many, many more who would be very happy with, say, a quarter of that - to pay off the mortgage maybe, help the kids get on the property ladder, or pay off student loans. Or yes, go on a cruise or buy a new car. I know this because I'm one of them. And because, well, wealth.

You can see where I'm going with this; $55 million is an obscene amount of money for one person to win. Nobody needs that amount, so I propose that the Lotteries Commission caps each jackpot at - ooh, let's think for a moment - $10 million, and, when it reaches that, they guarantee ten winners of $1 million each. The jackpot never gets to be more than $10 million, and each time it does reach that, well, there are ten massive parties in different parts of the country to gate-crash. Just listen for the pop of champagne corks. And form an orderly queue, behind me.

I mean, if this week's draw were to guarantee 55 winners of $1 million each, that would create  55 new millionaires in New Zealand. Look what that might do for local economies. Plus - while there's still the potential for family squabbling over the spoils - $1 million is a far more manageable amount than $55 million. Life-enhancing perhaps, rather than totally life-changing.

I'd also wager that knowing there are going to be 55 guaranteed millionaires after

This time next week...

Saturday's draw (the biggest to date btw), more people would be inclined to buy tickets for it. Which means the odds of you winning decrease. At least, that's how it seems to me, but I'm no statistician.

And yes, I know, creating more millionaire potential opens up a whole new debate about the dangers of encouraging more gambling - the increased mental salivation that goes with a greater chance of winning, but I'm sticking with the proposal of a more equitable distribution of the lottery winnings here. There are already mechanisms in place to monitor and restrict gambling amounts, though the efficacy of them is a debate for different forum.

Anyway, rant over. You know what I'm going to do now, don't you? Of course you do. And of course I am. But if I win the full amount you can look forward to the establishment of the Mike Bodnar Foundation for Students of All Ages Who Want a Degree in Anything They Can't Currently Afford. Or something like that. Sure, I'll certainly be -pist, but I will also be a philanthropist.

Wish me luck.

The Book of the Year! Success for Unity!

 Actually, my apologies, I think I’ve transposed the headline; maybe it should be The Year of the Book, since 2023 was when I completed and published my first spy novel, Unity. Thank you, thanks. Wonderful. No really, there’s no need. Oh all right, keep going… (takes a bow, accepts flowers)

Was Unity a success? Well, that's a good question, but it might not be the best way to ask it. I’m reminded of when Bilbo wishes the wizard Gandalf good morning: Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat. “What do you mean?” he said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

I’m no wizard (and some might argue no author), but whether my novel has been a success depends on the perspective. So, at the top level we could perhaps argue that for a novel to be successful it must have become a best-seller, perhaps with the film rights bought by a production company. Unity has sold fewer than 150 copies in a year (pass me the tissues…) and nobody has beaten a path to my door for the rights to it, so in that respect it has been a miserable failure.

Another benchmark would be that an established publisher picked it up and is now promoting it to booksellers and libraries throughout the land, with a generous advance to me to write a sequel. The publisher has organized a number of launches and signings, and I am in demand by all the literary supplements for interviews and profile pieces. Spoiler alert: I don’t have a publisher. I self-published, so no speaking tour or interviews, and no profile pieces. And I can’t afford any paid promotion. Success? Nope.

It’s about here that Gandalf, his bushy eyebrows arching together, would ask: “Or do you mean it’s successful because those who’ve read it have enjoyed it?” Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. By all accounts – and I mean verifiable feedback: reviews and ratings on both Amazon and Goodreads, along with direct emails and feedback to me personally – Unity has been successful. Those who’ve read it have enjoyed it (or for some reason been too scared to tell me they haven’t).

Ah yes, you ask, but are we talking hundreds of reviews and ratings? Because that would be a measure of success surely. Er, no. At time of writing there are 14 ratings and ten reviews on Amazon (but averaging 4.8 out of 5), and nine ratings with five reviews on Goodreads (all five stars). In terms of the quality of feedback then, yes Unity is a successful novel. In respect of the quantity? No, still struggling.

But what about peer endorsements? Established novelists usually have another famous author endorsing their books on the front cover, which gives confidence to the potential reader. If Ian Rankin says of Mick Herron’s Spook Street that it’s “A terrific spy novel” (which he does) then for Ian Rankin fans that’s all they need to check out Herron’s works. Did Unity receive any famous endorsements?

Well, actually, yes. Veteran actor Derren Nesbitt (Where Eagles Dare, The Prisoner, Special Branch, etc.) liked it and said I was “a very fine writer.” (Some may know that Unity has a tie-in to the enigmatic ’60s British TV series The Prisoner and Nesbitt was one of the guest stars). And David Pinner, author of Ritual on which the cult film The Wicker Man is based, calls Unity “a fine thriller.”

Successful endorsements? Yes and no. If Unity was widely available in bookshops and people saw those endorsements on the cover they might well be encouraged to purchase. But it’s not. So, lovely though the endorsements are, it’s like shouting them into the darkness and not even hearing an echo. But I’ve got them, so at least that’s something.

But about now Gandalf would be going, “Hrumph,” and snapping the reins to get his horse and cart moving along with some haste.

Am I despondent? Do I feel writing Unity was all a waste of time? Am I giving up writing altogether? You’d be entitled to ask given that so few copies have sold and considering all the energy I put into it. But for those of you with a bad case of schadenfreude, bad luck; no I’m not giving up, and here’s why…

I learned a lot about writing when I authored Unity. I unashamedly mimicked some of my favourite authors, emulating their writing styles and being inspired by their use of language. Not for a moment is this plagiarism; I am talking about being inspired by other authors, not pinching story lines, paragraphs or whole pages from them. I believe the quality of my writing improved as a result. That’s a success, and I enjoyed writing the book. Yay, high-fives all round.

When the book was in its final draft form I managed to cobble together a ‘focus group’ of 12 pre-readers who agreed to read it and provide me feedback, both in terms of the story and the grammar, spelling etc. As a result, I was able to tweak the narrative appropriately before release and fix most of the errors; any remaining are entirely my fault. How is that a success? Well, I didn’t have to pay for an editor (which I couldn’t afford anyway) and it helped confirm for me that the story was actually okay; independent readers told me so.

And finally, I successfully self-published Unity using Amazon KDP – Kindle Direct Publishing – a platform for authors to get their works published and available globally at virtually no cost. I designed and created my own cover, uploaded and formatted the manuscript, and proofed everything before hitting the “Publish” button. Hey presto, the book was born.

There are no vast stocks of Unity sitting in a warehouse somewhere, costing me storage fees; Amazon KDP makes the eBook version available for instant download, while the paperback and hardback versions are available on a print-on-demand basis, something that still gobsmacks me to this day. I recently ordered ten copies and they arrived within seven days. I don’t know how they do it.

I know of authors who can’t negotiate the mechanics of publishing with KDP and who pay “experts” a lot of money to do it for them. In that respect, I regard having done it by myself an achievement.

But beyond all of that, I wrote a spy novel. It might not win the Booker, it might not be a best-seller, and it might not even be in the shops. The thing is: I did it.

Success.

(Find out more about Unity: Peace for All, Freedom for None at www.unitystory.com)

If I were a rich man...

Image courtesy Al Jazeera

I don't want £76 million, writes Mike Bodnar...

Money. Wealth. Ooh those words, they conjure up some great images don't they? Being debt-free, travelling first class, living in a mansion. Or, if you're more philanthropically inclined, helping the needy, supporting education and welfare. Perhaps giving anonymous donations to people and causes. Surprising a busker with £100 in their hat.

Well unless your name is Bill Gates, Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos or a few of the other obscenely wealthy people in this world, you will be just like the rest of us – dreamers. And it's the dream of wealth that makes lotteries so attractive. But there's a problem. Whereas Bezos et al have gained their wealth through commercial enterprise (and let's not go into the ethics of that here please), the rest of us struggling to make ends meet on salaries or benefits need a short cut to wealth.

As with wealth, so there is greed. The more you have the more you want; witness the world's largest and wealthiest companies and individuals with their funds 'offshore' to avoid paying tax. But I'm not here to moan about tax avoidance or evasion. It's the use of greed by the lottery organisations themselves that disturbs me.

As I write this I can, within the next few days, win £8.5 million on Lotto, £76 million on Euromillions, and if I have New Zealand residency, NZ$50 million (a smidgen over £25 million in sterling). Last week I missed out on having £44 million deposited in my bank account, despite using my favourite numbers.

The so-called 'jackpotting' of prizes means that small prize pools eventually, over time, can become huge prizes, which drives the deprived and desperate into a frenzy. They buy even more lines in the draw, spending more money on the increasingly remote possibility of becoming unimaginably wealthy. (And when I say 'they', yes, I am excluding myself because not only can I not afford to indulge in lots of lines or tickets I don't actually want £76 million. Seriously. Read on...)

What happens when prizes become salivatingly enormous is that common sense goes out the window. People forget that the more tickets the population buys the more diminished the chances are of winning. (I will tell you how to increase your chances of winning in a moment. Meanwhile the rant continues...)

Look at it from a simple church fair raffle perspective. If the vicar is selling raffle tickets for a picnic hamper and they cost a pound each, and there are only 200 tickets being sold, then if you buy one ticket you stand a one-in-200 chance of winning. Buy two and your chances double, and so on. Buy all 200 and you've won (but you've paid £200 for a £40 picnic hamper, duh). At that local village scale it's easy to understand, plus the number of tickets is capped.

With a national lottery, tickets will be sold right up to the last minute to as many desperadoes

Hmm, what would you buy? (Image: Wikimedia)

as want them, thereby reducing your chances of winning the major prize as each minute ticks buy until the draw is closed. But the lotteries people use this massive jackpot prize to whip up a frenzy of buying.

But let's get to my main gripe: who wants £76 million anyway? (Okay, hands down, don't be silly. Maybe the word isn't 'want' so much as 'needs'). 

As I've said, I don't. I wouldn't know what to do with £76 million quid. Maybe buy a small village in the Cotswolds. No, I would be very happy with one million, even a lot less. A win large enough to pay off the mortgage and get the family together for a holiday somewhere nice would be perfect. Oh, and maybe a bit more to make up for the fact that I don't qualify for a pension, but that's another story.

So, my plea to the lotteries organisations is that they stop appealing to our greed by marketing the attraction of massive jackpot prizes and instead cap all monetary prizes at £1 million pounds per winner. I think we can agree that if you won a million you'd be very happy, right? Then by all means let the prize jackpot to £76 million, but let's have 76 people become millionaires.

That way your chances of winning a substantial amount of money increases, there are more winners, and the country would suddenly have 76 new millionaires contributing to the economy. No individual needs £76 million quid, but I'm one of at least 76 who could do with one million. Lotteries people take note.

Now to the bit you've been waiting for: how to increase your chances of winning in a lottery. I learned this from someone who worked for the New Zealand Lotteries Commission and it makes sense to me.

Let's say you spend £5 a week on buying a lottery ticket. That means that each week you have maybe two or three lines of numbers, which is the limit of your chance of winning. If you had more lines you'd have more chances, but you don't want to spend more than five quid a week because you know your limits.

So don't spend five quid a week. Instead, save it, and the next week, and the week after and so on for six weeks. Then you have £30 which you spend on the one lottery. Now you've got six times the chance of winning something in that lottery, and you haven't spent any more than you usually do. Simples, as a meerkat might say.

Of course there's always the chance you'll just end up with one of those silly 'lucky dip' tickets as a prize, or unlucky dips as they should be called, but that's another gripe and I think we've had enough for today.

Good luck.