Fashion Facets

Those of you who are fashion mavens, maybe you can answer me this.

What is it with high heels? Why is a few inches of height worth potential broken ankles, broken wrists, and other mishaps? And why is that the higher the heel, the dressier it is? Is there something about formal occasions that requires risk to life and limb?

Purses! Why is that one has to search forever for one that falls to the hip, where it doesn't encumber the natural drape of the arm? What is this conspiracy that thinks, "Oh, the bag should be tucked under the arm and thus thrusting it out to ridiculous dimensions," is a good idea?

Don't even get me started on earrings - oww oww! who would wear anything that heavy? - and pantyhose, the use of which completely stumps. I'm sure the inventor of them is looking down somewhere, giggling and protesting, "It was a joke! A joke!"

I enjoy being a girl, but come on. I demand to be able to wear whatever I want until men are required to wear kilts.

Nimi-Pics

http://www.geocities.com/wyrin/NimiGrass.jpg

I think someone has a bit of sunblindness.

http://www.geocities.com/wyrin/DogWithMommy.jpg

Yes, that is my mother. Yes, she will probably kill me if she knows I posted a picture of her on the web.

http://www.geocities.com/wyrin/NimiBall.jpg
This look used to mean, "Hey. Stop ignoring me and the ball and play with me." (PS: Those are not my mother's legs.)

http://www.geocities.com/wyrin/NimiColdstone.jpg

Dog. Parents. Dessert.

http://www.geocities.com/wyrin/NimiDessert.jpg

This is definitely the "I got away with something!" look.

http://www.geocities.com/wyrin/NimiNose.jpg

I don't know how I caught her in exactly this pose, I really don't.

http://www.geocities.com/wyrin/NimiRemodel.jpg

For comparison purposes, a picture about two years ago when the floor was torn up for remodeling. She looks vexed.

http://www.geocities.com/wyrin/NimiWolf.jpg

The fierce white wolf dozes. (PS: Those are also not my mother's feet.)

http://www.geocities.com/wyrin/NimiPorch.jpg

Her highness reclines.

http://www.geocities.com/wyrin/NimiRide.jpg

"I'm on the move
I'm gettin' on
I'm breakin' out
And it won't take long
Behind the wheel
Got a song
Pedal's down
And I'm gone ..." --- Cadillac Car (Dreamgirls)

Pockets Full of Memories ...

Monday, after she had gone through a year of increasing illness and much longer of not being quite right, we had to put my dog Nimi to sleep.

Nimi was a birthday present for my sixteenth – my parents decided they had to do something when they found me kissing the hamster. (I believe the hamster in question was Willow, who was remarkably dumb even for a hamster but quite amiable and so much as you can say this about hamsters, affectionate.) Most kids want their own set of wheels by sixteen; I was delighted with the promise of a puppy as soon as a new litter was born. My parents found the Bichon Frise breed because they don’t shed and are hypo-allergenic.

We went out to see the pups when they were three weeks old. One of them crawled into my lap and fell asleep. Instant love – the breeders agreed to put a dot of magic marker on her so they could tell her apart. Then a long period of debate where we tried to find a name that would fit. We finally settled on Nimue (Nim-ooh-AY), the Celtic name for the Arthurian Lady of the Lake. (Seeing as formal breed registration requires a name long enough for (some) uniqueness, Nimue, Lady of the Lake is her officially registered name.) Nimi for short.

About a month later, I brought her home. The fateful moment – all the puppies were playing in the yard. One decides to trundle off in another direction, exploring … and all the others followed. Instant thought: seriously alpha dog. My father, with some trepidation, “Which one is ours?” to which the breeder replied, pointing at the lead dog, “Oh, that one.”

She was small enough at that point that I could carry her in one hand. I quickly found she was both very smart and very stubborn. She was second in her obedience class – out of two dogs. Supposedly, Bichons don’t bark – Nimi loved to and almost up to the last would kill her food, play bark, demanded out of her crate during meals, let me know at the top of her lungs when she wanted something … she always had to have the last word. If you scolded her for barking, she’d tack one more tiny little bark on the end as if to say, “So there.” An attempt to teach her not to bark using the hose just ended up in her refusing to be outside if it was on.

When wound up, she dashed frantically around the house, a pellmell explosion of energy. We called this “mad dog” and it became quite a sight when we remodeled with wood floors and she went skidding … she chased rabbits and never came close to catching them. She never learned to distinguish squirrels, except for the fact they were harder to catch; they were both “bunnies” to her.

The baby of the family, she loved being cuddled and scritched and would twist her body back into it. Stop, and she’d paw at you for more. She licked faces as “kisses.” She invited herself wherever she wanted to be, clambering over people if they were in the way and then stretching out to make room. She adored people and when I started teaching harp, could tell when I was setting up for arrivals and patiently sat by the window on the lookout for them. We’d joke about her “Lively intelligence” when she was playing dumb – really, she chose to be smart only when it benefited her.

Some of her favorite past-times were walks and rides in the car. She had (far too many) toys and seemed to have the most fun with the ones far bigger than she because they “fought back” when she tried to throw them around.

She wasn’t too fond of other dogs most of the time; for some reason, multi-colored canines were a particular source of trauma. We ended up referring to them as, “Plaid dogs.” She made enemies of the lawn-mower and the inflatable exercise ball, barking at them and then valiantly running away, but for some reason was never bothered by the vacuum-cleaner and completely ignored my harp.

But she was never right physically, from a very young encounter with kidney stones that required surgery to continuous infections that eventually morphed into a trip to the emergency pet clinic on Memorial Day 2006. She was way too smart about her medications, dunking her food to wash them out or shuffling them to the side of her mouth even when placed in peanut butter, though after a while she generally stopped trying to get rid of them; she seemed to recognize they were meant to help.

She was back at the emergency clinic in the fall; by spring of 2007, her condition had worsened to the point where the vet finally prescribed subcutaneous fluids. I, terrified of needles, had to insert one under her skin in two places twice a day.

For a short while, it worked. She was as bright and cheerful as ever, and I breathed a sigh of relief – knowing she didn’t have long, but thinking on the order of six months to a year.

It was three weeks before she started to mope again, refusing about half her food every day. Last Tuesday, she ate nothing the entire day. When she turned her nose up at breakfast, I brought her into the vet and found out that her kidneys (the issue all along) had failed and she had almost no kidney function. There wasn’t anything left to do.

Making the decision was horrendously wrenching, but the vet was able to provide us with some shots to perk her up and give her some energy for the weekend. So she had walks, she had car-rides, she had the people food she was usually forbidden – and my family and I went through 54 exposures of film between Saturday and Monday. But we could tell that even these measures weren’t working: between shots, she was confused, wobbly, depressed and refusing food again, and for longer each time.

So Monday, the appointment. The vet and vet-tech were wonderfully compassionate and caring. It was so easy it seemed unreal. Got home, where one of my students – who is renting my smaller harp – very thoughtfully dropped it off so a young trial student could play something that wasn’t bigger than she was. Turned out she’d had to put her dog to sleep earlier that day. I felt terribly guilty that I’d asked her to drop it by.

I’m saving Nimi’s crate bear and her collar; the latter will have a locket and a few strands of her hair in it. I hope if there is a heaven she’s found my grandfather Papa Tony, who loved his “nutsie muttsie,” and his old dog Hutch. Maybe they’ll startle a few butterflies back to earth for us.

Addendum – my only real composition, The Butterfly Waltz, was written last year shortly before my friend Lauren’s wedding (hi, Lauren!). It came to me after I was grousing on a walk that I was really bothered I could write accompaniment, write lyrics, write *books*, but not music, when a butterfly flitted across my path. My mother believes butterflies are my grandfather saying hello.

I was playing the waltz and writing the section about “butterflies” above when my uncle Chris called. He said he had lost a few items, including his car keys, and asked Papa Tony to find them. Sure enough, they showed up. My aunt Jeanne said she’d spotted a butterfly at about the same time and never seen one so high.

Hi, Papa Tony. Don’t let her boss you around too much.

Testing ...

One ... two ... three ...

Wind And Water

Another CD collection of songs. Many of these were 4-5 mins long, so I nearly overloaded the disk. Yes, there is some greater news, but at present I'm trying to distract myself from it, so ...

Collection theme is Water and Wind. It's more the former than the latter. Hence the billing.

1. A New Day Has Come - Celine Dion
2. All Soul's Night - Loreena McKennitt
3. I'm Gonna Fly - Sydney Forest
4. The Second Element - Sarah Brightman
5. Roots And Wings - Anne Murray
6. Rain, Tax (It's Inevitable) - Celine Dion
7. Breathe - Michelle Branch
8. Dust In The Wind - Sarah Brightman
9. Before You - Chantal Kreviazuk
10. Sisters In The Wind - Laura Powers
11. Titanic Days - Kirsty MacColl
12. River Deep, Mountain High - Celine Dion
13. Seven Seas - Sarah Brightman
14. Last Day Of Summer - Kirsty MacColl
15. 8th World Wonder - Kimberley Locke
16. The River Cried - Sarah Brightman
17. The Old Ways - Loreena McKennitt

Defiance

"I have never been able to accept the two great laws of humanity - that you're always being suppressed if you're inspired and always being pushed into a corner if you're exceptional. I won't be cornered and I won't stay suppressed." -- Margaret Anderson

(There's a reason for my scarcity this time. Expect a longer post as soon as I've had some film developed.)

Gratuitious Brag

Fantasy-writers is a smidge behind on their challenge results, so April just came through. I wasn't watching real carefully, because I'd assumed sheer length put me out of the running, but:

http://www.fantasy-writers.org/news.asp#news_305

Go figure, I say. Just ... go figure. ;-)

Long Time No ...

Blink and time flies - I know it has been a while since I've posted. Been caught up in online gaming and the vagaries of rejection letters. (The writer's friend! Okay, not precisely.)

I keep having long, involved, story-like dreams. One is being adapted into a short story on a subject that has been bothering me for a while as one I simply have never been able to do. The other one appears to be blameable on Reign of Fire.

It's official: I *am* going to my cousin's wedding in July. Going to fly up early, more than likely, and spend a few days in Boston before trekking to Connecticut to see the relatives. Any especial recommendations?

Saving books for the trip as well. Currently reserving Something Rotten (Jasper Fforde) and Young Miles (Lois McMaster Bujold) - an omnibus of The Warrior's Apprentice, The Vor Game and The Mountains of Mourning, a novella/novelette that occurs between the two. For a third I'm going to want traditional fantasy, a mystery or an anthology, but haven't decided yet. Yeah, I doubt I'll read all of them. It's the packing that counts.

Have had *some* good news - Allegory is holding onto "Poetic License" as a maybe. I'll know by the end of the month.

Excerpts

I've had the Transient excerpt on my webpage since time immemorial, so decided to switch it to a story of different tone. This is a fairly significant chunk of "Shared World," a rather brief story that examines what happens when you write yourself into your fantasy world as a god ...

Updated!

Added a review for "This Is My Funniest" to my Reading Recommendations.

Wow. Just ... wow

In the interests of providing a balanced view of reviewers (and of bragging), I just discovered this, which includes a review of "Hour By Hour" In Abyss and Apex #22 (keep scrolling down!):

http://david-de-beer.blogspot.com/2007/04/abyss-and-apex-22.html

Actual review starts, "I first read Lindsey Duncan at Alienskin magazine, and was very impressed with her skill and inventiveness."

Anthologies

When I read short stories, my preferred venue is anthologies. While some magazines are fantastic - the now-deceased Marion Zimmer Bradley's Fantasy Magazine was one of the best publications ever; I have an abiding love from Andromeda Spaceways, I recently picked up Talebones and was pleasantly surprised that I actually *liked* dark fantasy ... - I find anthologies more appealing. The unified theme, the opportunity to see several authors' take on the same topic (another reason I like the fantasy-writers.org monthly challenges), plus the fact that anthologies seem to avoid the bizarre and experimental, the surreal stories that seem predominantly designed to make the reader realize that the author is far more profound than they are.

A quick sampling of the anthologies on my shelf:

Murder By Magic - a melding of the supernatural and sleuthing, written by both speculative and mystery authors
Twice Told Tales - fairy tales told from the perspective of the losers
My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding - fantasy stories involving marriages and weddings
Sword & Sorceress XIV and XXI - sword and sorcery stories with strong female protagonists
Cosmic Cocktails - science fiction stories set around/involving ... bars and taverns
Thou Shalt Not Kill - mystery collection involving priests, either as suspects or investigators

BASH now available!

After patient waiting - and it was worth the wait! - the very first story I ever sold, "But Before I Kill You ..." a send-up of evil overlords everywhere, is now available in Fantasist Enterprises' Bash Down The Door And Slice Open The Badguy.

You can find details here:

http://www.fantasistent.com/books/anthologies/BASH.php

In which newly-crowned Velarre determines to take on the role of evil overlady while avoiding the mistakes of her predecessors. Featuring a puzzling priest, a lumbering lord and formidable fashions.

The Last Word

This is officially the final sentence(s) in my novel Flow:

Chailyn nodded. “I am sure I will need your help in the future, my friends.”

Review!

This one is for "Hour By Hour" in the current issue of Abyss and Apex. This is the first fantasy mystery story I managed to sell, and I'm fairly pleased with the review.

http://www.tangentonline.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1050&Itemid=267

Dreamgirls

I recently saw this movie in the comfort and privacy of my own home. The music instantly had me hooked. It's bright, energetic and infectious, and expertly woven into all levels of the story: stage performances of the group, "story songs" ala the tunes in a musical, and some pieces that were straight opera, with the dialogue and conflict sung. (I believe the term is "rock opera" here.) Many of these clips stemmed from or wove into rehearsal scenes, stage reprises, progress montages, radio announcements ... skillful integration of awesome music.

As far as the story itself, the last part of the movie slowed almost to the point of drifting interest and could have been truncated without losing any of the impact, but it was otherwise an engrossing storyline. What struck me the most was the fact that no character was completely in the right throughout. A series of partway wrong decisions created all the misfortunes, and you still sympathized with (most of) the characters despite them.

The performances were fantastic. I can definitely see both supporting act(or/ess) Oscar nominations (I'm indecisive about Hudson's win still), though this is definitely a movie where main and supporting blurs. Hudson's voice is shatteringly powerful, but what really impressed me was Beyonce's range. She managed to "tone down" when singing the stage-sets a character who was supposed to have a fairly unexceptional voice, and then ripped out for a few of the opera/story songs mentioned above.

(Mild spoilers below.)

Dreamgirls' story arc is best summed up by the two songs that are both, at pivotal points in the story, repackaged by another singer. These songs represent taking something raw and vibrant and commercializing it. It's particularly striking in the second set of songs, where one simple word-choice completely alters the meaning of the song. In the original (this song is performed, not story), the singer expresses her wish to love a man, but "you really don't have the time." In the recap, it becomes, "I really don't have the time." One little pronoun and a very striking expression of regret becomes bubbly, and the rest of the song thematics follow.

Mother's Day

My clever plan to conceal my Mother's Day gift in my mother's keyboard tray went horribly awry.

I knew I had to act fast, because she was talking about going out and purchasing the book I left for her. So I asked her to check something for me.

Turns out she only needed the mouse. Never pulled the tray out.

So I, thinking frantically, suggested she go on Borders.com and look for a coupon. She tells me to do it. I pull out the tray.

Mother talks blithely, looking up, looking down, never once at the keyboard. "What do you want me to do?" says she.

And I reply, finally at my wit's end, "Will you LOOK at the left side of your keyboard?"

Yep, that finally did it.

Review

Second review I've ever received - mixed opinion, mostly bad on Winged Words:

http://www.tangentonline.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1038&Itemid=265

Feeling a bit shell-shocked. Don't they know authors read these?

Ambivalence in Fiction

Sorry I've been quiet ... life is insane. Here's a bit of a quote from an essay I just submitted. The theme is Poe, and I claimed that his story served to create a sense of ambivalence in readers - and uses claustrophobia to enhance it. To support why the heck you'd want to do that anyway:

Ambivalence is a powerful force in fiction because it leaves the reader unsettled. If a writer leaves clear signposts that a character is the hero – and portrays them with sufficient skill – then the reader feels frightened when the character is in jeopardy and relieved when they escape. The emotion is generally resolved in the mind of the reader and then forgotten. If a writer manages to create a sense of ambivalence, however, the reader may find himself in a state of emotional suspension. He cannot simply resolve the issue and move on. Many of the best stories cause these uncertainties to linger in the minds of readers. Claustrophobia can enhance this ambivalence because it metaphorically traps the reader. If the sense of being shut in is conveyed vividly enough, it transfers to the reader, just as reading about a frightening situation can cause his heart to race.

In reading Poe, what I was really impressed with was the flow of the language. It's very rhythmic, including the use of punctuational tricks you couldn't get printed nowadays. (So many good things have been thrown out with the bathwater of advances in literature! But I digress.)

Quotes!

"The truth isn't always beauty, but the hunger for it is." -- Nadine Gordimer

"My mother said, 'You won't amount to anything because you procrastinate.' I said, 'Just wait."" -- Judy Tenuta

And in honor of the Stargates being back in season, a bit of SG-Atlantis snark:

Maj. John Sheppard: How's it coming, Rodney?
Dr. Rodney McKay: Slower than I expected, but faster than humanly possible.

Reading Reccs

Reading Recommendations updated to include a handful of mysteries that impressed me when I read them, and since I'm amassing a longish list, to have the three most recent recc in a separate category at the top in order newest down, and then an old-reccs category with the others from oldest down.

Last Two

I've rounded out my collection of mixes to an even half dozen, and that ought to do it . On "Passion Play" where I was looking for songs which were sheerly about attraction, not romance ...

1. When You're Good To Mama - Chicago soundtrack
2. Free Me - Emma Bunton
3. Once In A Lifetime - Sarah Brightman
4. Get With You - Dian Diaz
5. Lover - Sophie Ellis-Bextor
6. Strut - Sheena Easton
7. Lay Your Love On Me - Emma Bunton / Luis Fonsi
8. Rush - Cherie
9. I'll Be Right Here - Paulina Rubio
10. Love Toy - Gloria Estefan
11. Devil In A Fast Car - Sheena Easton
12. Casanova - Paulina Rubio
13. I Drove All Night - Celine Dion
14. Heaven's What I Feel - Gloria Estefan
15. Remember How We Danced - Dian Diaz
16. I'm Gonna Getcha Good - Shania Twain
17. Tic Toc - LeAnn Rimes
18. Turn My Motor On - Kirsty MacColl (I chose to cut "In These Shoes" because this whole CD was gettin' long.)
19. Sex In The 90's - Gloria Estefan

The other mix is "Foreign Film Dub" (shout-out to Whose Line Is It Anyway?) which contains songs that are partially or entirely in another language. Predominantly Spanish, given my favorite artists ...

1. Times - Lesiem (Latin)
2. Oye - Gloria Estefan (Spanish)
3. Hijo De La Luna - Sarah Brightman (Spanish - I'm pretty sure)
4. Trouble With Goodbye - LeAnn Rimes (Various)
5. Adonde Voy - Linda Ronstadt (Spanish)
6. Seallaibh Curaidh Eoghain - Sileas (Scots Gaelic)
7. Nao Esperando - Kirsty MacColl (Spanish)
8. Tu Y Yo - Thalia (... Spanish ...)
9. Scene D'amour (No actual language - just oohs)
10. Oye Mi Canto (Hear My Voice) - Gloria Estefan (Spanish)
11. Te Amare - Gloria Estefan (Spanish)
12. Dove L'Amore - Cher (French)
13. Libre - Paulino Rubio (Spanish)
14. C'est La Vie - Shania Twain (French)
15. Fides (Belief) - Lesiem (Latin)
16. Mambo De La Luna - Kirsty MacColl (Spanish)
17. Cursum Perficio - Enya (Latin)
18. Molde Canticle - Sissel (Oohs)

I acknowledge that the language mix-up here is horrible to non-existent. Oh well!

Hour By Hour

Blink and *I* missed it ...

"Hour By Hour" is now up at Abyss and Apex.

In my defense, I've been insanely swamped the past few weeks. Heeeelp!

S&S

Though held for the final cut, my story didn't make it into Sword & Sorceress XXII.

I will probably be scarce here until I recover from the existential crisis of Doubt. I reeeeally wanted this one, ladies and gents.

Fashion Advice

"TV cameras seem to add ten pounds to me. So I make it a policy never to eat TV cameras." -- Kitty Carlisle

Last Lines

The last lines that match with the first ones I posted a few days ago - including the current last full sentence of Flow, which is still a work in progress. I've kind of cheated where the last sentence is dialogue and put the one before it for context.

From Butterfly's Poison (the "he" is addressing Miayde here):

He spread his hands; the game was on, would always be on. “Consider it a promise.”

The Swan Maiden:

We still had things to say, one madwoman to another.

Flow:

Chailyn nodded once. “The rest is up to Kit.”

Polestar:

Then it swallowed him, and she was the only, untouchable light in the darkness.

... welp, that's pretty cryptic.

Around The World

Ripped myself another driving CD. I should note my musical requirements for driving are fairly exacting: song must be medium-to-fast tempoed with a strong beat and singable. I've broken this with a few specific songs ("Storms In Africa" is not in English; "Murder in Mairyland Park" is very slow - and as far as I can tell, yes, the i is supposed to be in there), but in general. This one is "Around The World" as all the songs are either titled with or refer to places. My Kirsty MacColl obsession continues to be a dangerous beast. In particular, "Soho Square" is one of my favorite songs. It's mournful in a hopeful way; a sense of maybe-someday that is profoundly sad without directly admitting it. A gorgeous instrumental swell in the middle that reminds me of the prettier parts of the Ladyhawke score.

Anyhow, to make a long story short ("Too late!") here's the list.

1. "Walking Down Madison" -- Kirsty MacColl
2. "Harem" -- Sarah Brightman
3. "Sunset Boulevard" -- Andrew Lloyd Webber (composer - not sure of the singer here)
4. "Orinoco Flow" -- Enya (I think I'm the only one in the world who actually knows most of the lyrics to this song.)
5. "Soho Square" -- Kirsty MacColl
6. "City of Love" -- Martina McBride (okay, this one is stretching it, but it's a place!)
7. "When It Rains In America" -- Sarah Brightman
8. "A New England" -- Kirsty MacColl
9. "Carribean Blue" -- Enya
10. "Wonderland" -- Rachel Fuller
11. "England 2 Columbia 0" -- Kirsty MacColl
12. "Murder In Mairyland Park" -- Sarah Brightman
13. "Drops of Jupiter" -- Train (okay, so this is more "Around the Solar System")
14. "Storms In Africa" -- Enya
15. "Marrakesh Night Market" -- Loreena McKennit
16. "He's On The Beach" -- Kirsty MacColl ("When he called me up one day and said that he was going away, I thought he meant a week in France and not twelve thousand miles to Sydney Bay ...")
17. "Mysterious Days" -- Sarah Brightman ("Springtime in Tangier ...")
18. "Anywhere Is" -- Enya

This one seems particularly bad about having the same artists. Oh well!

First Lines

In the name of randomness, the first sentences of a few of my recent projects.

The opening of Butterfly's Poison, a fantasy intrigue novel set in a world with advancing technology:

Being shipwrecked, the thought rose to the surface of Miayde’s mind, had a dismaying impact on her dignity.

From The Swan Maiden:

The advantage to madness is that it gives the afflicted the potential to be invisible.

From Flow, my contemporary fantasy novel-in-progress:

On bad days, the world around Kit vibrated in sympathy, a stray shudder from the windows or knick-knacks taking a swan-dive off the cabinet.

And from Polestar:

When the star-heiress returned to the city of Gwynora, she was no longer a figure of purity, protected from the touch of any mortal substance.

Quote ...

I'm not terribly religious, but I was struck by this quote. Mentally edit to match the divine spirit of your choice. From the movie "Copying Beethoven" (which, by the way, is both moving and funny in all the right places - I highly recommend it):

"The vibrations on the air are the breath of God speaking to man's soul. Music is the language of God. We musicians are as close to God as man can be. We hear his voice, we read his lips, we give birth to the children of God, who sing his praise. That's what musicians are."

Progress

... no, this isn't a profound essay, sorry. ;-) My very short flash fiction story, Progress, is now available in the current issue of From The Asylum, with a print anthology due to hit in August. (Not April. Had to go back in and edit this.)

Menagerie!

This short story, set in a fantasy pseudo-post-Revolutionary America, was just sold to The Sword Review, who recently released Winged Words. I'm hoping to write more stories about this character in the future - time will tell!

Website Update

Added John Moore's addictively funny The Unhandsome Prince and Heroics For Beginners to my reading reccs. For more details, pop over to the website.

Miss April

Pointless brag time ago - I am April's Member of the Month at F-W.org. Interview at:

http://www.fantasy-writers.org/news.asp#news_242

Which is where anyone who has an overpowering need to ... hear me ramble should go.

Story Up!

"Retirement" can now be read in The Lorelei Signal, along with absolutely gorgeous artwork --

http://www.loreleisignal.com/

Hmm, well ...

Progress, of an ambivalent sort. In my search for a home for Scylla and Charybdis, one of my favorite stories (and one of my few SF stories), I sent it to the Writers of the Future contest. Made the quarter-finals, which is better than prior showings, but still means my baby is looking for a home. I ought to be happier about this. I suppose it proves that I'm a glass is half empty gal at heart. Don't get me wrong, I grok that quarter-finals is an accomplishment of itself, but it still means that one of my best remains under wraps.

The hunt continues.

Sage Advice

"You can't have everything. Where would you put it?" -- Ann Landers

"Nothing risque, nothing gained." -- Jayne Mansfield

(Again courtesy of my calendar.)

Seen on a bumpersticker:

"If I wanted your opinion, I'd read your entrails."

Gradually Become Agitated ...

Look at this. Then look at it again.

Trust me, you'll see something you missed.

This is primarily for musicians, but it's generally just Very Funny and you don't need to be musical to get a lot of it:

http://www.well.com/user/bryan/waltz.html

Little Brag ...

Prefacing with the fact that Aiara is my online handle for those who don't know:

http://www.fantasy-writers.org/

Random

I've become tempted of late to write a story by coming up with maybe a dozen characters and half a dozen setting threats, plot threads and some kind of miscellany ... then trot out ye olde dice and run with whatever I have without necessarily planning ahead of time. It's a strange mix of artificial structure and artificial spontaneity that interests me, perhaps when my juices are running low. For some reason, ye olde novel is running slow right in the middle of climactic scenes - perhaps because I'm not terribly good at describing physical action. May simply be that I'm in the midst of a sea of rejection letters and working on other projects, though.

And The Rivers Ran Green ...

Yesterday was one of the busiest days of my life - unsurprising, given that Celtic musician + St. Patrick's Day = high demand, but still.

Up at 6:30 am to ferry myself to the Association of Bridal Consultants OH/KY conference, where I believe at least a dozen consultants picked up my card. (One in particular seemed very interested - unfortunately, she's quite a distance away, which would mean a gas surcharge on my normal rates.) I played for forty-five minutes at the opening as people gathered, another hour and a halfish at lunch. This meant I attended the conference in between, two sessions and a nice goody bag including a miniature chocolate pizza which will cease to exist sometime today.

The keynote session was on wedding coordination and matching the client's style, which wasn't helpful for me, though there was pretty eye-candy. It also made me slightly less likely to elope, which is what I've been saying since I started playing a lot of weddings. "Agh, I'm just going to elope." The first session, however, was on networking and gave me a lot to chew on. I've already instinctively known this - if you want something, you have to give something first - but it was well-framed.

Arriving home slightly after 2pm, I had to switch outfits, retune - yes, again - and leave again at 5pm for a three hour gig at a local country club. (Do the math: that's over five hours of harp playing.) Unlike last year, no one stood up and started singing along when I played, "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling," which is a phenomenal relief. There is nothing weirder than playing a song and having your audience sing along on the spur of the moment, especially when you're playing background music and subconsciously expecting to be ignored.

Four or five times, I looked up and saw a small child (three or so) staring fixedly at the harp with father in tow. Later found out they weren't even there for the same event, but attending a wedding reception elsewhere in the building. Was absolutely adorable.

Got home around 9:30pm. Finiti. ;-)

Fingers Crossed, Foolish Hopes Up ...

Submissions for Sword & Sorceress XXII, formerly under Marion Zimmer Bradley and currently bearing her name in homage, open on the 23rd of March - that's next Friday - and stays open until late April. Being somewhere between desperate and cheesy, and aware that they have offered an approximate response time of one week, I have three or four stories (the best I've written in that particular vein) lined up ... as a wise man once said on another forum, the experience of a story is subjective, so my absolute best may not be an editor's cup of tea, but #2 ... we shall see.

I'm wary, because I still feel kind of shaken over my laughable showing for Fast Ships, Black Sails (the pirate anthology), but ... I can't help but want to make my chances as high as possible.

The First Roses of Fall

My second poetry sale! The First Roses of Fall will be appearing in OG's Speculative Fiction at a time to be determined. Seth Crossman, the editor, spent a few passes making suggestions for tweaks - he was reasonable, very good at explaining his recommendations, and was able to help me hammer out some nuances. I'm very happy with the final version.

Now if I can just stay coherent long enough to fill out the contract properly - I have a massive allergen-induced headache. To the point where I actually had to reprint it because I flubbed the name of the piece.

The Sword Review - Winged Words

This story, possibly the closest thing I've written to a fantasy romance, is now available at The Sword Review. I was pleased as punch when they accepted it, because I still consider this one of my best works. Interestingly, it's a reversal of the position I usually portray with work versus love.

Point your browser to:

http://www.theswordreview.com/item.php?sub_id=797

Fairy Tales

I've been reading old fairy tales, trying to reshape and recast a couple into short stories. It's an interesting process. Some of the cardinal dos and don'ts of writing don't seem to apply to the fairy tale, leaving both quite a job of reinterpretation and the question of whether or not these rules are universal or even necessary. This is not the occasional lapse, although the fairy tales that endure seem to have a greater degree of conventional elements. This is a continuous appearance in stories that are archetypal, ageless and endlessly fascinating.

Coincidence abounds; luck saves the hero. Outside benefactors are common, giving gifts that are just what the hero requires or providing advice at just the right moment. Sometimes, the story jumps to another section with no apparent explanation - we're given to expect a tale about a boy promised to a mermaid who never reappears in the narrative.

On the other hand, the often subliminal rule of three is almost invariably made explicit in the fairy tale. There are three trials, three sections, three wise men to consult. Unlike in most modern fiction, where this is hidden, the fairy tale revels in the triad. Also, too, there is a sense of cosmic motivation, the world moving around the hero to some logic that maybe - just maybe - we could discern with the right mindset.

Old Friends

I loved this quote when I saw it:

"I went to the thirtieth reunion of my preschool. I didn't want to go because I've put on like a hundred pounds." -- Wendy Liebman

I'm so glad I will never have a highschool / college / etc reunion.

The Process

For me, the creation of a story, from first ideas to putting it on the paper to final review, seems to move through a distinct emotional arc.

In the first stage, when I'm playing with the ideas, everything is possible and everything is perfect. Nothing is work, and I may chew over the same section three or four times ... never coming up with anything quite like what I'll end up putting on the page.

When I'm actually writing, the story is a mess. The infodumps are too long, the references too oblique, the plotholes fall out of the sky mounted on giant eagles. Sometimes, I want to trash it. On the extreme end, occasionally I want to trash my hard drive. But at the same time, there is just enough fire to keep me burning.

The editing process is easier on me than the writing. I find something soothing about it. I usually spend a lot of my time cutting bits of phrases and slimming down my verbiage. Often I find I've made leaps in my haste; I bridge gaps and fix fences.

Then when I'm done, in rushes the sense of achievement again, a weird echo of where I started: the story in ideal, not necessarily what is on the page - I'm not sure that I, personally, can ever really see what is on the page and not all the mental structure behind it - but an abstract sense of the completed product.

I just went through this process in compression. I recently finished a short story tentatively entitled Left Eye, Right Eye, which I wrote in a rush - a couple hundred words Saturday, and then the rest of 7500ish between Sunday and Monday. Throughout, I felt like I was on a bad rollercoaster. I knew something was crazily off-kilter, but I couldn't stop. It was a compulsion.

Now it's done; it hasn't had enough time to cool off for editing, but at a tentative look ... it isn't as bad as I thought. Something about the actual process of writing gets me so absorbed in the minute flaws that I can't see the forest for the trees. Somehow, they don't bother me as much when I'm editing. I think it's because when I'm moving from idea to write, I'm trying desperately to translate the ineffable; when I'm moving from write to edit, I'm honing the known.

Between the two extremes is this awkward, ungainly child, too old to be an idea, too young to be a mature story. It is this teenager phase that comprises the writing of the thing.

No wonder I'm crazy.

Boot Camp Completed!

For the past six months or so, I've been going through The 3 A.M. Epiphany, a book of writing exercises. Since my goal was to do one exercise a day for the purposes of writing something new, I skipped most of those that required intensive research and most recently, those that were meant for editing works in progress. I missed only a couple of days since I began. But now I'm done, and I'm not sure whether I'm going to lay the book aside and just try to make sure I write SOMEthing every day, or whether I'm going to start afresh changing the length requirements or whether I'm going to randomly select an exercise from each chapter or ...

The exercise I did today gives away one of my characters on an MU*, which I kinda don't want to do, so I give you the second to last, which was to have characters from a novel or story "rehearse" a scene. I ended up digressing into this:

Shihyali pulled her hair up in a tie, dropped it, then made an absent gesture as if to cut it off at the roots.

"You'd look very fetching like that," Evnissyen said from where he sprawled, his body arranged with self-conscious lack of grace.

She shot him a withering look and said nothing. It was clear from her expression that she knew how he intended it.

"We have to work this out." He tapped one hand impatiently on the chair arm. "How we're going to come to an agreement. In the - you know."

They were both ginger about the idea of being fictional. She felt a bit superior, knowing she was the narrator, but that didn't protect her from anything, even if the author was notoriously unlikely to rewrite. It also meant he had more room to think independent thoughts. She suspected he spent a lot of them on - no, that was unfair. He was some kind of ascetic, as far as she knew.

"This concerns Rhadiath - my Rhadiath," she said. "My first priority is to protect him."

"Your Rhadiath." He snorted. "Not that I think he has the cunning in him to toy with you, but that's never going to work, you know that, right?"

"How would you know?" she shot back.

"You're not a real noble."

"Neither are -" She stopped. While they could argue his temperment and loyalties for hours, it wouldn't get them anywhere, and it wouldn't solve the conversation they had to have when the story resumed. She had started to adjust to the concept of space in between, of times that her journal omitted and the world seemed to spin to a standstill ... a standstill of planning and choreography.

He smirked at her. "You know perfectly well I am. But I'm going to tell you that he would never believe such a vast conspiracy without proof - and you don't have proof. You know that."

"I'm going to demand you get me proof."

"You know I can't do that."

"I can bloody well demand it anyway." Shihyali ran a hand through her hair. "And why can't you? Because it would endanger your neck?"

"Oh, that's right, you're pretending you don't care about my neck." She threw a shoe at him. He ducked. "Where did that come from?"

"Who knows?"

He rolled his eyes. "Even if I could get your information ... you know how delicate the situation is."

"You know I don't really believe in your rebellion," she said. "I'm not going to take that for an answer."

"Am I going to have to blackmail you? Because while we may not be on good terms, I admire what you're doing and I don't like doing that."

She shot him an irritable look. "I'm not going to change my nature just because you don't like threatening me."

"I'm not asking you to change your nature." He smirked. "Just your dialogue."

"Faugh!" She dropped back hard. "This would be a lot easier," she addressed the ceiling, "if you would just leave Rhadiath alone. Don't I have enough complication in my life?"

"Who are you talking to?" "

Whoever is directing this affair," she said with a wave of her hand. She narrowed her eyes as his smirk intensified. "Don't even think about it."

"Difficult not to." A slight smile teased his lips. "I did kiss you ..."

"Maybe they forced me to." Shihyali kipped to her feet again. "All right. Say this. Say I offer to help your rebellion - in limited fashion - in an attempt to defend Rhadiath."

"An attempt?" Evnissyen arched a brow ironically. "But all right. I trust you enough to do that - I really do," he added to her skeptical look. "I'll remember that."

"No, you won't," he said. "These chats we're having don't actually exist. The next time we're here, maybe ..."

She nodded once, grimacing. "I suppose I know that. I had a conversation with Arriatri here the last time that would have made things so much simpler - they're not supposed to be, are they?"

"Wonder what happens at the end? Do we get a sequel? Obviously you live, it's your journal, but ..." He waved a hand.

"Not necessarily," she pointed out. "I could end one entry announcing my execution the next day."

"You should do that anyhow. Scare the author."

Sails!

Notice for my forthcoming short story and, if you click it, a really awesome looking cover:

My story, "Currents and Clockwork" is scheduled to appear in Sails & Sorcery: Nautical Tales of Fantasy, published by Fantasist Enterprises, independent publisher of illustrated fantasy books.

Three Moons!

This poem is now up and readable at The Fifth Di... !

Paste or click to: http://samsdotpublishing.com/fifth/fifth.htm

State of Myself

I am currently sprawled on the floor with my laptop because I put my shoulder out Saturday evening and trying to sit up creates a series of subsidiary pains in my back and hip. I feel like a very old woman now.

I am hopeful about my very first submission to flash-and-poetry market Raven Electrick; I have currently received two encouraging rejections for the story I sent there, Instructions For An Initiate. One market stated they had it longer than usual because it went high up their editing process; another sent me a rejection letter with "please try us again," hand-emphasized and a written note indicating that it wasn't the story quality, it was the fact that flash was a hard sell for them.

I am once again tempted to start a pantoum with the lines:

Change is inevitable
Except from vending machines

Oscars!

And now, like everyone else, I will venture my generally biased and uneducated opinion on the Oscars tonight. You have been warned. Sidebar - I love, love movies. However, since I dislike sitting in theatres, I generally only see them once they hit video. I reserve my theatre-going for special effects blast-outs where screen-size has an effect - King Kong, PotC (1 & 2), etc.

Best Picture: I've seen two of these films - Little Miss Sunshine and The Departed - and from all descriptions, Babel seems to be an unnecessarily depressing, unnecessarily complicated film ... in other words, the kind of movie everyone likes because they're supposed to. Though The Departed was an awesome ride, I have to put my personal hopes on Little Miss Sunshine, because a feel-good comedy - even a black feel-good comedy, if anyone who hasn't seen the movie can imagine that - always deserves some attention. Also, The Departed loses some points with me for the meat-headed casting of Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon in roles where it is very important to be able to tell them apart and it is inordinately HARD TO DO SO at times.

Best Performance / Actor Lead: Uh, dunno. I haven't seen any of these movies. I have a lot of respect for Will Smith, though.

Best Performance / Actress Lead: I've seen only one of these movies - The Devil Wears Prada - and heard some flap about the fact that Meryl Streep shouldn't have been nominated because her character is a supporting role, not a lead. I have to say the opposite. Miranda Priestly is more than a lead character, she is scenery, theme and mood, and her presence while she is on-screen had to be imposing enough to carry into everything that happens off-screen. And again, see my love of comedies. (I am somewhat anti Dench and Winslet here because both their characters are people I could never sympathize with / admire. I recognize pulling this off takes talent, so this is purely a personal preference.)

(And why are there two categories here anyhow? Is it because they wanted to give out two awards and gender was the most convenient division?)

Best Performance / Actor Supporting: I'm kinda stunned Mark Wahlberg was nominated for this with the reams of high-profile actors in The Departed. Then I thought back to the sheer amount of venomous hatred his character generates throughout the film, never letting up. Despite being a good guy, his is the character you most actively hate, and it's due to the portrayal. Yeah, my vote's with Mark.

Best Performance / Actress Supporting: No opinion here. I think Abigail Breslin certainly deserves the nomination - like Streep, she is more than a character, she is the heart of the movie, its tone and soul. But where does a ten year old kid go from an Oscar win?

Best Writing / Original Screenplay: It is possibly a duhism here that my vote is with Little Miss Sunshine. But I was blown away by that movie while still laughing throughout. It really is the best of both words.

Makeup: ... yanno, actually, the consistent aging effects in Click were pretty impressive. (And before anyone ribs me about seeing this movie, it was not the crude comedy I was expecting. It was far more serious - and far deeper - than the desperately miscast previews.)

Cinematography: I am only commenting here because I find it difficult to believe anything could surpass The Illusionist, but I'm watching The Prestige tonight so I may change my mind.

Costume Design: I watched the entirety of Marie Antoinette just to enjoy the costumes. Nuff said.

Visual Effects: I haven't seen the new Poisedon, but I can't picture anything blowing Dead Man's Chest out of the water. *flees from groans*

That's all, folks.

It's Common Sense

"If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace. " -- Thomas Paine

"An army of principles can penetrate where an army of soldiers cannot." -- Thomas Paine

(I confess that I don't know if either of these are from Common Sense, but they struck me.)

Good Riddance

Last mix, and last post ... this is my "Good Riddance" mix, filled with goodbye-and-I'm-not-sorry songs.

1. Big Boy On A Saturday Night -- Kirsty MaColl
2. Breathing -- Emma Bunton
3. I Will Survive -- Gloria Gaynor
4. Go Away -- Gloria Estefan
5. Misled -- Celine Dion
6. He Never Mentioned Love -- Kirsty MacColl (the obligatory "irony" entry here)
7. Life Goes On -- LeAnn Rimes
8. Strong Enough -- Cher
9. Who The Hell Are You -- Emma Bunton
10. Coulda Been -- Kimberley Locke
11. Prisoner -- Mariah Carey
12. Don't Think of Me -- Dido
13. Bye Bye -- Alana Davis
14. These Boots Are Made For Walking -- Nancy Sinatra
15. Wrong -- Kimberley Locke
16. Nah! -- Shania Twain
17. Get Over You -- Sophie Ellis-Bextor
(and for a sweet ending to a rather snarly collection:)
18. I Wish You -- Gloria Estefan ("Deceive me, hurt and mislead me: all that I wish you is love ...")

Bad Girls

A second CD mix - I haven't ripped it yet, but for amusement purposes, here's to ladies feisty, scheming and just misunderstood:

1. My Affair -- Kirsty MacColl
2. Some Girls -- Sarah Brightman
3. I Hate Men -- Kiss Me Kate soundtrack
4. No Angel -- Dido
5. I'm Going Out With An Eighty Year Old Millionaire -- Kirsty MacColl
6. I'm Not In The Mood (To Say No) -- Shania Twain
7. The Simple Joys of Maidenhood -- Camelot soundtrack
8. Baby, I'm A Star -- Helen Reddy
9. Hunter -- Dido
10. Julia -- Chantal Kreviazuk
11. Roxie -- Chicago soundtrack
12. Angie Baby -- Helen Reddy
13. In These Shoes? -- Kirsty MacColl
14. Wound Up -- LeAnn Rimes
15. Play The Field -- Debbie Gibson
16. White Flag -- Dido
17. Not That Kind of Girl -- Paulina Rubio
18. Bad -- Kirsty MacColl

Dance Music

I just made myself a CD for listening in the car where all the songs in some way involve dance - in a couple cases the connection is fairly tenuous, but I enjoy the songs. In order:

1. I Wanna (Shall We Dance) -- Gizelle D'Cole / Pilar Montenegro (Shall We Dance? soundtrack)
2. Dr. Beat -- Miami Sound Machine
3. Remember How We Danced - Dian Diaz
4. Overture / All That Jazz -- Catherine Zeta-Jones / Renee Zellweger / Taye Diggs (Chicago soundtrack)
5. Sway -- Pussycat Dolls (Shall We Dance? soundtrack)
6. Dark Waltz -- Haley Westenra
7. Anyone Can Do The Heartbreak -- Anne Murray
8. Cell Block Tango -- A Whole Mess of People (Chicago soundtrack)
9. Murder On The Dancefloor -- Sophie Ellis-Bextor
10. Refuse To Dance -- Celine Dion
11. Casanova -- Paulina Rubio
12. Breakout -- Ronan Hardiman (Lord of the Dance)
13. All I Ever Wanted -- Kirsty MacColl
14. Rhythm Is Gonna Get You -- Gloria Estefan
15. Nowadays / Hot Honey Rag -- Catherine Zeta-Jones / Renee Zellweger / Taye Diggs (Chicago again)
16. I Want You -- Alana Davis
17. A Whiter Shade of Pale -- Sarah Brightman vs

Judgemental Update

The Divine Jury officially placed second in the Fantastical Visions 5 anthology contest. So it was the second-best story they received. Hey, I'll take it. ;-)

Quote of Note

"A lawyer is never entirely comfortable with a friendly divorce, any more than a good mortician wants to finish his job and then have the patient sit up on the table." -- Jean Kerr

What's in a ...

This is an excerpt from a course essay I wrote about Frankenstein, the creature, and the use of names. It applies specifically to the book, but speaks sidelong to the importance of names:

The most famous character in Frankenstein, the creature himself, has no name at all. This is highlighted by the number of other names used throughout the story. Even the brother-in-law of a trial witness is given a name (Daniel Nugent on page 179). In many ways, the temperment of the creature is similar to that of the previous three narrators. He is self-educated, prone to fits of temper, and finds succor in the sublime world of nature, though for different reasons than the other two. But whereas for other characters we are given names that hint towards their nature or purpose in the story, the creature has none. The narrative omits this indicator of character and allows the reader more freedom to decide whether the creature is constructed of the same stuff, metaphysically, as Frankenstein, or whether he is a departure from his creator.

The lack of name can create other effects. With the human emphasis on labels and the use of names to establish identity, the lack of a name can indicate that someone is less than human. One of the rules of thumb for a writer to avoid drawing attention to spear-carriers and other bit players is to not give them a name. The lack of a name can distance and even disinterest a reader in a character. This issue does not stand out as readily when the nameless character is the narrator. In Frankenstein, this sets up a contrast between creature-as-animal and creature-as-narrator, between the parts of the story when the creature is less than human and the parts of the story where the creature is the center of his own universe. This contrast draws more attention to one of the story’s central questions, the humanity of the creature.

To be honest - back into blogger mode, rather than essay mode - I didn't really care for Frankenstein, but predominantly because I found the main character to be self-absorbed, selfish and arrogant. I felt sorry for the creature and wanted creator and creation to reconcile, an attitude which became hard to maintain as the story continued, but I didn't develop commensurate sympathy for the good doctor. So, of course, when one of the second essay options (two per lesson) was to discuss whether or not Frankenstein or his creation was more monstrous, I jumped at it ...

So Much For That ...

Update on the pirate story - written, edited, polished, submitted with head high ... and rejected in a shockingly short amount of time, though I do appreciate that the editors had somewhere else to recommend. Guess it wasn't meant to be. The story's moved on to other pastures; we'll see what happens from there.

A Glimpse of Pelindar

My last "tour" of this city for a while - yet another exercise, a desc of the cityscape at day and one at night ...

During the day, Pelindar navigated through the world like its citizens mobbed the streets; impatient, impulsive, swirling silks and exotic perfumes elbow to elbow with the unwashed and everyone too busy to protest the cattle-crush of the herd. The scent of the ocean seemed to take on physical form, a subtle spirit winding over terracotta roofs and insinuating itself on the sidelines of families.

Market Row was a jumble of dueling shops, their banners thrust forth like blades, a wreckage of carts and stalls fighting to find place where they could – and all of it at the top of the city’s salt-starched lungs. It was a place blind higher than the canopies, oblivious to the sprawling mansions of the High Quarter and the towers of the sorcerer-wardens. Even when the church bells sounded, they stared dumbly – and deafly – at the same garish displays, drawn into the flatness of frenetic trade.

One line of darkness cut through the Row, where three story buildings butted into each other and fell across any possible angle of light. Some people said Midnight Avenue was more than that, that even if you demolished every warehouse and multi-tiered salon of sundries, the endless night would endure, its own supernatural shroud over the businesses there. It was understood, in these enlightened times, that there was nothing inherently peculiar about the street itself, but there was no denying that the people who had chosen to put out their moodily-lit shingles there were more than a little … odd.

***

Pelindar, night – subtle, shadowy, all the colors blurred together into an indistinct shelter of grey. Sometimes the damp in the air stung, but it always seemed to hang heavier after sunset, dank and leisurely. Shadows strung out over homes; homes strung out over streets, gangly and sprawling; and streets strung out underneath people, wandering with drunken unpredictability wherever fancy took them.

Market Row lay like the treacherous rocks of a reef, dotted with bad bargains and tiny, painful points of light, places that did their best business after-hours or simply believed that never sleeping was preferrable to missing a customer. There were surprisingly few taverns – it wasn’t a business of trade. The sky opened above the Row in an errant cascade of brooding silhouette, its fine buildings reduced to dark lines and massive elephants perched over their private watering holes.

Midnight Avenue remained unchanged, not a whisper darker or even lighter than it had been. Sunset did not even register among the gnarled lanes. People moved through its timeless streets with more ease now as the rest of the world matched up with the interior – able to forget, if only briefly, the strangeness that usually permeated here. Yet the shops were the same, the proprietors of the same inclinations they had been before; perception merely changed it half the time, leaving a place made ordinary by acclaim.

Down to the sea, where the waters ran green and black, the hulking ships a quiescent blur as they waited for their next destination. Out across the waves, a moon larger than imagination, captured in fog.

The Divine Jury

Sold to Fantasist Enterprises - their Fantastical Visions V anthology! It's a contest and they haven't chosen their placements, but I just received an email informing me that they definitely want this story. This is actually the second work I've written set on Lleden Gair, but this is the first one that has sold. The idea behind The Divine Jury is one I came up with while ... uh ... serving jury duty ...

The divine jury is a celestial body that exists in the city of Kintarra, the sister-city of the gods. They serve a term rather than for a single case and are chosen at random from the population to judge on cases of divine/celestial importance, matters of hubris, divine intervention, etc (as well as offenses committed inside Kintarra). To keep the jury honest and to prevent them from taking bribes, the following system is applied: 1) eleven of the jury members are executed at the end of their term (why accept a kickback if you're not around to enjoy it?); 2) The twelfth, most honorable member of the jury is elevated to godhood.

To say much more would give away the plot, but my main character, Kiacina, is a Helen of Troy homage who encounters this system as the defendant ...

A Few More Calendar Clips

Again, from my page-a-day. The first one is just a great image. The second one ... hmmm ...

"Drive on! We'll sweep up the blood later!" -- Katherine Hepburn (instructing her driver to push through a crowd of fans)

"If you want to get revenge on a man, marry him!" -- Belinda Hadden and Amanda Christie

In other news, I never pictured myself as the kind of writer to insert high-falutin' quotes at the beginning of my stories, but First Contact demanded a bit of Shakespeare, and now Polestar, set in the same world with the same characters, has picked up the tradition ... and if I ever write a third one, I'll have to do it again, though I'm out of "star" quotes from Shakespeare I can remember off the top of my head.

For the idly curious, First Contact's quote is:

But then there was a star danced, and under that was I born. (From Much Ado About Nothing)

And Polestar's is:

O no! It is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark ... (From Sonnet 116)

Sage Advice

Seen on the TV today:

"Never open your mouth until you are absolutely certain your brain is going to work." -- Tommy Dewar

History Lesson

No, not *our* history, who do you think I am? The city of Pelindar (which was the setting in an earlier post of mine) appeared again in an exercise sometime ago entitled Landscape and Time (100), which asks the writer to create the human history of a specific piece of land. So verily:

The sandy crescent of coast on which the city of Pelindar rested was bleak but fertile, a steady year-round chill allowing for the growth of crops that neither froze nor burned under the withering sun. The seasons changed, but the wandering tides kept them in check. Winds built up rumbling along the shore, as if they, too, had found a safe harbor.

There had been civilization on the Grey Coast for millenia, almost as long as any other region, but it had not been "civilized" for all of that time. The first settlers were semi-nomadic farmers, an amalgam of intermingled families without distinction of tribe or hierarchy. Bound together by a limitless series of individual ties, they communicated through an almost instinctual network of family and companion.

The first Grey Coast villages were affairs of convenience, half-hearted, helter-skelter, leaving no trace when they dried up and blew away with the next strong wind. The people remained, incestuous, insular, regarded with flat affect those few explorers who landed on their soil and found that the Coast was too distant and too tenacious to tame. Within a few generations, these ciphers became legends, and not particularly important ones.

When the western lands left their dark ages, the Cenorians discovered the Grey Coast. They fenced in land that seemed to them to be unclaimed. Half the time, they were correct. The other half, they clashed with the locals over matters of right and trade - but by and large, Cenorian solutions were peaceful, the invaders having long since decided that the best means to enlightened society was example.

The first five cities - little more than fortified towns with a few extra towers - sprouted up at randomly chosen points along the Grey Coast. Gradually, the most strategic of the two locations grew to prominence: one in the north, gateway to the civilized world, and one in the far south at the site of modern Pelindar, where the first lighthouse outside of Indessa was founded on the outermost island.

The Cenorians were crushed under the wave of the Black Crusade, as many were. Four of its cities were raised; the other became a slaving pit. The observatory island survived, but became forbidden territory on pain of death - and because of its isolation, became the ideal bolthole for resistance.

An uprising started there, joint of Grey Coast natives and Cenorians. They freed the region, but the slave-city became anathema. No one spoke of it. No one visited it, though its towers could be seen from any hill of any size - and on the Grey Coast, there were many of these.

The Gull Alliance dominated for a while, then subsided, followed by a number of other business consortiums, then a Giserian tyrant. It was the eastern Tirefs who wrested it from the hands of his imperial infallibility and who both built Pelindar in thrice its earlier glory and threw open the doors of the observatory to learned contemplation and discovery. The Grey Coast has not been the new world for a long time; there are ever further horizons.

Three change of hands later, the Grey Coast is a free nation - for now. There are still native tribes in the hills, but their influence can most easily be seen in darkwood eyes, stretched slightly with green and yellow, and in double jointed hands made for fine and mysterious work. In an attitude, too: a sense that what the outside world decides, however shattering, can never alter the sand in the bays.

Wish me well!

Having discovered that Night Shade Books (an up-and-coming small press turned medium press turned publishing force) is releasing an anthology of pirate stories, I'm trying my hand at another nautical tale. The catch? ... Fast Ships, Black Sails is closing to submissions at the end of February. Which means I need to finish and edit this baby in a twinkling. Not only am I crazy enough to attempt this, I'm also eyeing another anthology with a similar close date, Magic and Mechanica. Send me bursts of decent inspiration, I need 'em. ;-)

Sassy Statements

Courtesy of my page-a-day calendar:

"I can't stand makeup commercials. 'Do you need a lipstick that keeps your lips kissable?' No, I need a lipstick that gets me equal pay for equal work. How about eye shadow that makes me stop thinking I'm too fat?" -- Maria Bamford

"When my enemies stop hissing, I shall know I am slipping." -- Maria Callas

Like Clockwork

I just sold a sorta-short story (really, when it pushes nine thousand words ... can you call it short?) entitled "Sailing The Seventeen Seas" to Fantasist Enterprises' Sails & Sorcery anthology. The nice part is, S&S will be coming out early to pick up on the wave of interest from the last PotC movie, so I should have less than a year's wait before I see my baby in print.

"Sailing The Seventeen Seas" is set in the same world as my novel "Butterfly's Poison," though there is no direct reference to BP. It is probably set a decade or two later - I had a passing reference in the story to Synnove, the daughter of main character Treddian and only fifteen during the events of BP, as the unconventional ruler of Nevelia (a city), but I cut it in edits. In any case, why seventeen seas? Well, the world in which StSS (or should I call it S3?) is set has no real landmasses, only large islands and countless oceans, many of them called different names by different countries ...

StSS is the story of a merchant ship, a shapeshifter, an inventor, and a pair of fugitive passengers. Also like BP, the central character is an escaped Shardathi slave, but there the similarities cease. Vlisa Karhene is the first mate of the Narwhal and has the unenviable task of keeping her mad-scientist captain in line. The title of this post, of course, refers to the fact that the setting involves a higher tech level than most fantasy and a clockwork bird plays a key part in the proceedings. As for the rest, well ... that would be telling.

Freudian?

You never know when your slip of the tongue will become someone else's continuing in-joke ...

There's a kitchen supply place known as Sur La Table (Roughly, sir la tahb(le?) - I have less than no command of French). My mother was in line at her local kitchen store when the lady in front of her started talking about, "Laser Table." It has become a family watchword.

Then there's my childhood friend, who was discussing various foods she ate abroad and enthused about the, "Barbarian sausage" ... I still love this image. (Bavarian, for the still clueless.)

And Gold Star Chili still gets called "Still Car Goalie" from a bit of accidental muddling.

But you have to admit, forget Egghead Software - it's more fun to browse at Eggsoft Headware.

I feel justified in neenering about these because I still get teased about saying, "The default setting for water should be no lemon," and "I'm going to boot up the stove." I am a child of the computer age, after all.

Idle Thoughts

A day or two ago, I read a short story in a magazine (I won't mention the name to be fair about it) that was a pretty entertaining tyrant-turns-good yarn ... or would have been, except it was unnecessarily graphic and sexualized. Nothing crucial to the plot was contained in the off-color mold; it would have been a far stronger story had it made its point without ninety percent of the references. I'm mystified why the author thought this was a good tactic to take; I'm even more startled that a magazine would take such a tale unexpurgated.

On the other hand, a more disturbing trend. I wonder who decides the difference between profound and silly or fractured in short fiction, and why I keep falling on the other side of the line. While I come to reading for fun more than to be challenged, I also am a smart reader and I have to wonder ... if I don't get it to the point where I don't even have a glimmer of it, much less a sense of, "Well, this feels like it would be interesting if I could put the pieces together," who does?

Of course, there is also an equally unnerving trend in fantasy short fiction that seems to shun worldbuilding and fully realized other-realms in favor of urban fantasy and close reinterpretation of mythic elements. While I enjoy both, I find it sad that it seems harder to find this bread and butter that, to me, is what fantasy is ultimately FOR.

Phonebook Fun

The following surnames came out of my phonebook. I was doing this for a story exercise, so I ignored ones that were too peculiar or too modern, but this is *plenty* odd in patches:

Abernathy, Achey, Alikonia, Amend, Arcuri, Bashada, Battle, Bonecutter, Clever, Coffin, Coldiron, Dressing, Drexelius, Enaiho, Eve, Fey, Fiala, Fightmaster, Goldwire, Hack, Hazard, Heckle, Jeranek, Kohl, Lawyer, League, Lively, Loving, Means, Minds, Moonshine, Morningstar, Muse, Music, Nation, Ndiaye, Nodes, Office, Outland, Pagan, Palace, Pancake, Prey, Query, Quitter, Rafter, Rainwaters, Rust, Scurry, Search, Shiver, Shorten, Sprinkle, Talluri, Test, Vest, Vice, Viola, Vigil, Warning, Wedding, Zilch, Devolve, Dice, Geis, Guard, Ice, Iori, Journey, Justice, Kill, Kinder, Knuckles, Leisure, Platter, Ploy, Register, Reveal, Sample, Self, Snare, Spite, Stonecipher, Trusty, Worst.

I'm Back!

Pardon the holiday lapse - I was busy, recovering, etc. But another sale to trumpet - "The Letter," a paranormal Dear John letter, was accepted by Flashshot. Like all flashshot pieces, The Letter is under 100 words - 92, to be exact. (Technically, this isn't a "sale" as Flashshot doesn't pay, but it's a respected market and ... visibility!)