The Persistence of Vision

Moving Day

2010-02-07T11:21:00.004-06:00

Hi Everyone,

Just a quick break from Superbowl preparations to let you know my blog has moved!! It is now more fully integrated into my website and moved over to WordPress, two goals I've wanted to achieve for some time now. The new address is

www.lynettemejia.com/wp

Make sure to update your bookmarks and rss feeds!

Photo of the Day

2010-02-05T08:18:00.003-06:00

Rose, "Ebb Tide" - to remind you that the wheel is, indeed, turning.

This work by Lynette Mejía is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Meet Leo

2010-01-22T11:15:00.000-06:00

As of the week after Thanksgiving, we are now the proud humans of another cat. Yes, for those counting, this makes four. Yes, I know I am well on my way to crazy cat lady status. But I swear, four is it. Really.

He's gorgeous, with thick, fluffy orange and white fur and the biggest, darkest green eyes you've ever seen. He's also sweet, and affectionate, and is absolutely fascinated by the giant box in the living room that shows moving pictures. Every night he plops down on the rug in front of it and watches television right along with the humans. Sometimes he falls asleep, though. You can't ever really tell when the impulse to nap will hit.

I had seen him around the neighborhood a couple of times, skittering under cars parked in my neighbor's driveway. One night in mid-October I came home to find him sitting outside my garage, with a look on his face that said, What took you so long? He looked hungry, and scared, so I brought him a bowl of cat food and left it outside. After about ten minutes he realized I wasn't going to throw a rock at him and so, tentatively, he made his way over, eventually purring and allowing me to pet that luxurious, thick fur. After a while I went inside, and he went his own way as well.

A few days later I walked into the kitchen to find this:

Now, I tell you, who can resist that face? I tried, believe me. The LOML said, "You can't be serious. We have three cats already. I know he's pretty and all, but come on, baby. He's a stray. He's probably infested with fleas, and mites, and who knows what." Logically, I knew he was right. So, I put out a bowl of food again, and left him out.

And he returned, of course. That cat chow business is much tastier and easier to catch than birds and mice. He came back, each and every day, to stare in the window just like that. Sometimes he'd come at night too, just sitting there, not meowing, just watching, just waiting.

And of course, bit by bit, day by day, my heart melted. Finally, on Thanksgiving Day, after he'd been sitting there for most of the afternoon, the LOML looked at me and said, "Yeah, ok, I know, he's going to be our new cat. He is pretty cute." I named him Ginger Cat, tentatively, for I loved the warm color of his coat, and we didn't know his sex at the time.

The next day, I bundled him up in the cat carrier and took him to the vet. Turns out he is a boy, neutered, and so possibly belonging to someone at one time. No tags, no microchip, just a ragged ear long-healed, which indicated he'd been on his own a good while. About two years old. In reasonably good health, minus the usual flea and mite issues and a slight ear infection, which was easily cleared up.

The first few days inside he was nervous, as can be expected, hiding from the other cats who COULD NOT BELIEVE I HAD THE NERVE TO BRING ANOTHER CAT IN HERE, hissing at him whenever an opportunity presented itself. Over time, though, as cats do, they got too lazy not to get along, so they began to accept him, and everything chilled out.

We originally named him Morris, because he looked so much like that famous television cat. Somehow, though, it just didn't fit. He didn't have a Morris personality. He wasn't aloof, or grumpy in the least. He was sweet, affectionate, and loved to play. He's a big boy, though, and his coloring and features seemed somehow more leonine than most house cats, so....Leo it became.

These days, Leo has adapted nicely to an indoor life. He spends a lot of his time doing this:

And alot of this:

And some of this:
And nowadays, when I open the door to the backyard, and I look behind me to make sure none of the cats get out, Leo is sitting there, in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring at me with a look that seems to say, Outside? No, thank you, human, I'm fine right here.

And so, four cats.

In related news, here is the downside to becoming so emotionally attached to your pets - when it's time to say goodbye. Neil Gaiman's cat Zoe is dying, and he wrote a beautiful blog post tribute to her here. Having lost two cats a couple of years ago, I can relate. Saying farewell is so hard.

"Becoming"

2010-01-21T12:48:00.004-06:00

In case you missed the announcement the first time around, my story "Becoming" is now live at The Absent Willow Review. It's a fantasy piece, about a beautiful fairy named Elinor who is unhappy because she can only see her flaws when she looks in the mirror. If you've ever loved someone enough to try and change everything you are, check it out.

Welcome, Pansies!

2010-01-21T12:20:00.004-06:00

I'm so happy that I live where I do. Today, it was actually warm enough for me to wear shorts as I did my daily gardening chores. When I trimmed away the freeze damage from my perennials, I noticed little shoots of green beginning to poke up from the soil. The world is waking up again, slowly. In another couple of weeks, the daffodils, pansies, and snapdragons will come into their own. Soon after, the azaleas will bloom and the trees will start to bud out. I can't wait. I come alive again along with the Earth. We'll see a few more weeks of on-and-off cold weather I'm sure, perhaps even a couple more light freezes, but still, it's coming, and it lifts my spirits. I'm not sure I could live in a place where there are snows into April. I'd probably end up pulling a Jack Torrance.

Also, I finally got back to work on the novel today. The plot is coming together so quickly I have a hard time getting it down fast enough. I'm furiously scribbling notes as I write, hoping I don't forget anything. The notes are starting to form a little nest, however. I need to organize them, maybe by chapter, or by character. I think I'll work on that tonight.

In any case, I'm working, the sun is shining, and Persephone is coming home. Can't get much better than that.

Red Sky at Morning

2010-01-15T08:04:00.005-06:00

Storms predicted to move in later today. Oddly enough, this thought is calming to me. I love nasty weather. A warm cup of cocoa, out on my back porch to watch the lightning flash across the sky - I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon.

I'll be offline for most of the day today, for upgrades in the hardware and software on my desktop. I may pop in via laptop from time to time, but it's doubtful. Most likely I'll be so frustrated that I'll end up screaming and wanting to throw every electronic device I own out the window. On the other hand, maybe it will all proceed as smooth as freshly churned butter and everything will be fine. Yeah, right.

Anyway, enjoy your day, oh interwebs. It's Friday, after all, and a storm's comin'.

We Go To The Playground

2010-01-10T10:54:00.000-06:00

Every Single One of Us, The Devil Inside

2010-01-07T08:08:00.011-06:00

48 degrees this morning, a virtual heat wave compared to what is forecast for tonight and tomorrow, when temperatures are expected to reach into the teens overnight. Tomorrow we're not predicted to rise above freezing all day, something that hasn't happened since the mid-1990's. I took a short walk in my garden this morning, deadheading a few roses and pulling up some broccoli plants gone to seed. Nothing really to do until the temperature rises again this weekend, however, when I can damage assess and begin cleanup.

It's been odd here the last few days, as the LOML is off to exotic Singapore on business. I'm lonely for him as always when is away, but my sister is visiting, and her presence has taken up at least some of the vacuum of silence that settles in whenever he is gone. We are watching old movies and chittering like two little girls again, and I've enjoyed it immensely.

I'm reading a biography of Truman Capote, something I never thought I'd pick up. Somehow, he fascinates me. I think this has more to do with his personality than his writing, which I find good, but not necessarily awe-inspiring. What I do find interesting, however, is that he was never ashamed of who he was, never tried to hide his uniqueness. He never tried to fit in with the conventions of his time - in fact, just the opposite - and that quality is what drew people to him, I believe. He was brave, outlandish, and completely at ease with himself, in a time when homosexuality was, in many places, still a crime. It wasn't the kind of courage required to protest in the streets or write letters to the editors of newspapers - it was the kind of courage necessary to completely be one's self day in and day out, and damn the consequences, and it worked spectacularly for him. We should all strive to be a little more Truman-esque, I believe, to cultivate our unique qualities and never be ashamed of who or what we are. We might all find ourselves a little more tolerant of others if we did.

Ok, well that's your combination book review/soapbox rant for the day. I'm off to write, gather some more materials for my graduate school application, and (hopefully) find some time to enjoy the rainy, dark weather.

A couple more pictures from the garden walk this morning:

Onward and Upward

2010-01-02T10:24:00.002-06:00

I love New Year's Day. It's meaningless, I know, a symbolic transition, but really, when you think about it, symbols and rituals are the markers of our lives: birthdays, the turning of the seasons, traditions and memories that pass us gently from one stage of our lives to the next. For me, by the time Christmas rolls around, the year feels tired and worn out, and so do I. New Year's Day gives me a fresh start, a zero point at which I can draw a line and step across. Maybe it's nothing more than a psychological crutch, but I look forward to it every year.

New Year's Eve here was relatively quiet. Being from south Louisiana, we only had to stroll next door for some great food cooked by my neighbor. We sat around, drinking and eating smoked turkey and andouille gumbo while the kids lit sparklers and laughed in the cold, crisp air. We live outside city limits, so such things are allowed. At midnight, we listened and watched as a barrage of explosions and lights lit up the night sky for at least 15 to 20 minutes. When it was over there was only silence, and the cold, clear darkness. I kissed my husband, the love of my life, and hugged my children. I laughed with my sister. It was a good day.

My hopes for the new year are the same as ever - finish the novel, at last; lose that weight that's been creeping up on me for the last ten years. This year, however, I'm adding a new goal - starting grad school. It's something I always assumed I'd do, someday, and now I am old enough to realize that 'someday' is a concept that is rapidly slipping through my fingers. Life is to be lived, carpe diem as the dead Romans say. Memento Mori. Make 2010 a year in which you do something, instead of a year in which things are done to you. Be alive.

Here's to new beginnings.

Time Keeps on Slipping Into the Future

2009-12-11T22:32:00.002-06:00

Another day off the grid. There seem to be a lot of those this time of year. I'm juggling a lot, and the cracks are starting to show. No writing is getting done, which hurts, but there's no help for it. Sometimes things take priority. Taking care of my children, being there for every sniffle, every school project, every tantrum and sleepless night, is a decision I made long ago. They'll be grown and gone one day and I'll sit here in the silence and wonder where the time went. While I have it, the words will have to wait.

In other news, rain has arrived in Louisiana. After a year of droughts and hot, dry weather, in October the skies opened up, and in the last month or so have made up some serious ground. As I write this various areas of the state have received anywhere between three and eight inches of rain, with more on the way. Flood watches and warnings have been posted just about everywhere. In my backyard, we are now the proud owners of a stream. Welcome, stream. Do not grow any larger, please.

All of this bad weather and holiday madness has also meant I haven't had much time to spend at the renovation project. It's killing me, as I've grown very attached to the place again after all these years, and I've very much enjoyed the process so far of renewing and remaking the place where I spent my childhood. It's also been an opportunity for my sister and I to reconnect, something that was long overdue.

One thing was accomplished, however - we've chosen a name. No longer the renovation project, now I give you: Arcadia Farm. A few days ago I registered us as a National Wildlife Foundation home habitat, and as part of the process you're required to give a name to the property. We had been playing around with Arcadia for a while, and after some more debate and suggestions we settled on adding Farm to it. No, it's not a farm now. But, it could be, one day. One day.

The LOML and I are taking the GRE on Saturday, in preparation for heading to grad school in the fall. My goal is a PhD in Creative Writing and Folklore. The plan is to take it slow, but every journey starts with a step, does it not? And so here is my step. Why am I doing it? Partly to become a better writer, to hone my craft and research topics that interest me. Partly because I just love to learn, and I miss academia. Partly because it would be nice to have a backup career. And partly because it's been a bucket list item of mine for a very long time, and, like it or not, we are all steadily marching towards that bucket.

So, it's off to study (wow, are my math skills outdated), and wrap presents, and wipe runny noses, and reminisce of antediluvian days.

Every year is getting shorter
Never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to nought
Or half a page of scribbled lines ...

The Greenhouse Project

2009-12-06T16:53:00.011-06:00

As promised, here are pictures from the greenhouse project I completed on Thursday. Ok, maybe 'greenhouse' is being a bit generous. It's probably closer to 'rigged up plastic lean-to', but hey, at only $25 for supplies, I'm not complaining.

The impetus for this whole thing comes from the fact that I have lots of container plants. Lots of them. Many are tropical or semi-tropical in terms of cold tolerance. Now, in the north, that would mean bringing everything into a sheltered location for the duration of the season, but in Louisiana, when it can literally be 20°F one day and 70°F the next, it generally means hauling the whole mess in and out of the garage any time freezing weather threatens. As you can imagine, this is a HUGE pain. Every year I say I'm going to do something about it, but I never get around to it. This year, however, I was determined.

I started with some supplies I got at the local home improvement behemoth. Three 4' lengths of rebar, six 5' sections of of pvc pipe, a bag of L connectors, and approximately 250' of 4mil plastic sheeting along with a few tools: hammer, scissors, staple gun, and that most basic of all redneck home project supplies, duct tape.

Next, I pounded the rebar into the ground at roughly even intervals across from a section of my backyard fence that is already in a nicely sheltered area on the south side of my house. Over this I put three of the pvc pipes, and attached the L brackets at the top.

After this I started attaching the plastic sheeting. I covered the fence, attached the other three lengths of pvc to rest on the fence supports and act as a roof, then covered the remaining two sides, securing it to the ground with heavy cement blocks so that I can lift the sides up on warm days to allow for air circulation.

Next I added some cheap plastic shelving and started filling it with plants. I believe on final count the thing ended up being roughly 8'X6'X6', enough to handle all my plants, but just barely. I think next year I may have to go a little bigger.

Finally, with lots of duct tape and some creative scissoring, I managed to scrape together enough of the plastic sheeting that was left to cobble together some doors. I secured them with clips so that they, too, can be opened up on warm days, and then I strung old leftover Christmas lights over the plants inside, to add just a little more warmth near the leaf surfaces.

So far, the thing has held up beautifully. We don't get ice and snow accumulations around here often, and though the LOML had to go outside Friday night a couple of times to sweep off the heavy ice that was building up on the roof, I think the thing will work beautifully for its intended purpose - a place my beautiful tropicals can overwinter without being such a pain. The location is perfect, close to a water spigot and a power source, so other than a little watering now and then we should be good to go. As I said, it wouldn't hold up to the punishing winters up north, but for my purposes, I'd definitely say it was a success.

Welcome to England, He Said

2009-11-17T10:28:00.005-06:00

Can't seem to get that song out of my head today. It's Tori Amos, in case you're interested. You better bring your own sun, sweet girl. I love Tori. Amazing artist. I saw her once, in concert at the Varsity Theatre, not long after it opened (I'm dating myself here), in Baton Rouge. Her first real tour, in support of her debut, Little Earthquakes. Unbelieveable show. My small-town mind was absolutely blown as I watched her writhe and purr on that piano bench. My musical sensibilities changed that night, and I'm not sorry for it.

No writing today, but lots of thinking. Lots and lots of thinking. I think the book will be mostly on hold until after Thanksgiving. I might be able to get something down tomorrow, perhaps again Thursday. After that, though, it's mad dash to grocery shop, clean the house, and feed the masses.

A couple of links. First, Jo hn Ottinger over at Grasping For the Wind has compiled an interesting list of Sci-Fi/Fantasy book bloggers' responses to the question: What's the Worst Endings in Science Fiction, Fantasy & Horror?

Second, don't forget that The Absent Willow Review's Anthology, The Best Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction 2009 is on sale now here. It contains my story, "The Last Fairy Tale," one I'm quite proud of, as it were. Also, something I hadn't thought of until a friend mentioned it today: I'm more than happy to sign copies of the book for anyone who requests. Just contact me via private email and I'll send you the shipping address and particulars.

A picture of my roses up top, by the way. Just for the hell of it.

In and Out of Weeks

2009-11-16T09:12:00.003-06:00

And I have been. Time passes quickly for me during the fall, though in some strange way my mind seems to slow down somewhat. I haven't written anything of consequence in about two or three weeks, though I *have* been busy. Life takes over sometimes, and pushes away the stories. They linger, however. They linger.

Lots to do with the kids, and outdoors. For those of you who live far away, in Louisiana, we sort of all come back to life in autumn. It is soooo hot here in July, August, and even most of September, that many of us kind of hibernate inside, hugging the air conditioner. In October and November, the air cools off, the humidity falls, and we venture out again. I've been on field trips, camping trips, and other fun adventures with my kids. I don't regret that the stories have to take a back seat right now. I'll pull them out again when the weather is too cold and wet to enjoy the outdoors once more. For now, I'm reveling in the beautiful weather we've been having.

Lots to do in the garden this time of year, as well. With the heat of summer gone, and the cold of winter on its way, the job is two-fold: Put to bed all the warm season perennials who need a good, thick blanket of mulch to make it through the winter, and plant all the cool season annuals that will keep the garden alive during the cold days to come. This means lots of pansies and snapdragons for me, as those are my two favorites. One sweet allysum, though I haven't historically had a lot of luck with that one. I'm even thinking of getting a small Leland cypress in a pot on the back patio and wrapping it with Christmas lights. We'll see, though...that may be a bit ambitious...

Busy day today. Laundry is overflowing, and must be dealt with. Groceries are depleted, and must be restocked. And later today, rain is coming, followed by a nice shot of cold air. *Sniff, Sniff* Do I smell gumbo?

Tam Lin

2009-11-03T08:45:00.004-06:00

This song plays heavily in the plot of a great book I just finished, Elizabeth Bear's Blood and Iron. If you are interested in stories that delve deeply into Arthurian legend and the Faerie mythology of the British Isles, you'll love this one. What can I say, I'm a sucker for the Fae.

&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://music.trickypixie.com/track/tam-lin"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Tam Lin by Tricky Pixie&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;

October 23, 2009

2009-10-23T08:08:00.007-06:00

I've been somewhat remiss on working in journals lately. Autumn and Spring do that to me, I guess. I'm too busy getting things done to sit down and write about it. I haven't written in my personal, handwritten journal since this summer. I've learned, over many years of keeping journals, that I'm just not the sort to record every single thing that happens to me every single day. My dad was. He wrote something every day, even if it was just a quick weather and health report. I've found that I'm much more successful if I just write whenever I have the urge.

I have been busy, however. This week I finished "Father Patrice Hears Confession", my Louisiana werewolf story, polished it up a bit, and sent it out into the wild. Hopefully I'll get a sale on it before Christmas. We'll see.

Some news to report as well. I've decided to move this blog over to WordPress. I've been thinking about it for a while now, researching a bit and reading what other people who use it have to say, and I think it will be a nice fit for where I'd like to go with this blog. I imagine I'll keep this one live, as an archive, if nothing else. Of course I'll link back, and send out an announcement when I've made the change.

In the meantime, Autumn marches on, even down here in the semi-tropics. It's a bittersweet time for me - on the one hand I love the relief from the oppressive heat of August and September, but it's the start of the time when I'm cold (literally, my hands and feet are freezing) all the time. I can never seem to warm up in winter, no matter how many layers I pile on. It's a constant battle to keep my blood circulating to all my extremities properly. So, while I love the season, I hate the cold.

We do, I'd like to point out, get some beautiful fall color down here in Louisiana, despite what many think. We just get it much, much later than our neighbors to the north. Whereas their leaves begin to turn in September, we usually have to wait until November before things begin to get colorful around here. In the meantime I've been perusing garden blogs from more northern climes, hearing about early snowfalls and enjoying their beautiful foliage pictures. When our leaves begin to turn, I'll post some pictures of my own.

In the meantime, here are a few pictures of interesting mushrooms I snapped at the Renovation Project last weekend. We've had an unusually wet October around here - it's normally our driest month - and as a result, lots of interesting fungi have been sprouting up.

in time of daffodils

2009-10-09T07:30:00.002-06:00

in time of daffodils

in time of daffodils(who know

the goal of living is to grow)

forgetting why. remember how

in time of lilacs who proclaim

the aim of waking is to dream,

remember so(forgetting seem)

in time of roses(who amaze

our now and here with paradise)

forgetting if, remember yes

in time of all sweet things beyond

whatever mind may comprehend,

remember seeks(forgetting find)

and in a mystery to be

(when time from time shall set us free)

forgetting me, remember me

- e.e. cummings (1894-1962), American poet

Thanks to Helen Yoest of Gardening With Confidence.

Another One Bites the Dust

2009-10-05T17:15:00.002-06:00

Goodbye, Necrography.

Got an email today informing me of the demise of yet another small print 'zine. I'd submitted to them in the past, but ended up pulling my story because the lag time was far, far too long...

I'm not sure what the formula for a successful start-up is, 'cause I've obviously got no experience in that area, but I will say that as a writer I was kind of offended when they announced their last-ditch survival effort a few weeks ago:

Because of this, we're implementing a new submission policy. It's very simple. If you buy a copy of Necrography, then submit your work, we guarantee it will be read and reviewed with the utmost attention and you'll get a quick and personal response in a very timely manner. If, however, you submit to Necrography without buying a copy, we can't guarantee we'll respond to your submission or even read it in the first place. This submission policy will be in place when (and if) we re-open submissions again.

Now, I can appreciate a lack of money as much as the next starving artist, and I surely can imagine the pain of submissions that far outstrip advertising or subscription dollars, but this just didn't seem like a great idea to me. Sure enough, it pissed people off:

The move we made nearly a month ago, in regards to our tiered submissions triage, served only to anger a few of our writers and friends.

In any case, there has to be a better way. I find it sad that small print 'zines have such a low survival rate, but the fact is, the world is changing. Short fiction is becoming an online format, pure and simple. People don't buy magazines for stories much anymore - if they buy stories in print at all, they buy them in anthology format. That's just reality.

However, I think it is true that as writers and readers, we should support the 'zines we expect to stay alive long enough to publish us. Small press magazines have a long history of teaching wanna be's how to write professionally, and I think that's especially true for genre writers. So, maybe we do have an obligation to subscribe as well as submit.

Brandon Bell has an interesting post on the subject, and his idea is to subscribe to three 'zines, to lend his support to venues that support his career as a writer. I can get behind that, I think. Updates to follow.

Goodbye and Good Riddance

2009-10-05T11:00:00.004-06:00

The hulking mass of rusting metal and tornado fodder that's been the bane of my existence all summer is finally gone. I'm extremely happy, because instead of the solution we expected, having to pay to get the thing towed away for scrap, someone actually took it - a man who plans to renovate it and give it to his sister who currently has nowhere to live. So, not only did we get rid of it, we recycled!

In celebration, we spent the day Saturday cleaning up the aftermath. The movers left the porch and its roof (second photo). The LOML dismantled the porch, but we're still up in the air about the roof section. The tin is still usable, so we put the whole thing off to the side, hoping some brilliant idea will come to us about how to use it. In the meantime, this area of the property looks sooooo much better.

September was the six month anniversary of the start of The Renovation Project, and so far I'm more than pleased with the results. We've reclaimed huge sections of the lawn and flower gardens, started on the wooded areas, and even done a little of the demo work on the house. For a project done on odd weekends and days off, I think we've made lots of good progress.

The novel is coming along nicely as well. Out of my literal mountain of notes and scene snippets, I have cobbled together three good chapters so far in draft one, and the words have come steadily every day. My goal is to finish a draft by the end of the year, but ideally I'd love to be done long before that. I'm thinking hard about doing NaNoWriMo again (yes, I love torture), so to be done at the end of this month would be great. We'll see, though. I'm not going to beat myself up over it - I've missed too many self-imposed deadlines to think that might work.

Rain, rain, rain since we got back home Saturday night, and I'm not complaining. Rain is good for contemplation. It cleanses the mind. And if there's one thing about me that's dirty, well...

'Til next time.

September 18, 2009

2009-09-18T08:40:00.007-06:00

A little more traction this week, though not by much. I have managed 1600 more words on my new story, a werewolf tale called "Father Patrice Hears Confession." That title's subject to change, of course. It's what I'm calling it now, anyway.

What else has happened...let's see. I went to the Friends of the Lafayette Parish Public Library semi-annual book sale and picked up my usual sack or so of books. Didn't find as much as I normally do, unfortunately. It wasn't that there weren't a lot of books available, just not as much in the categories I'm interested in. Science Fiction and Fantasy take up one tiny table in the corner. Other speculative genres and horror are kind of spread around here and there. It's fun, a giant garage sale of books twice a year (and what bibliophile wouldn't love that) but I wish I could have found more in my favorite genres.

Yesterday I read "Brokeback Mountain", by Annie Proulx, from her collection Wyoming Stories. I wanted to read it for two reasons - one, because Annie Proulx is a master of beautiful prose and I wanted to study her style, and two, because I'm interested in including more GLBT characters in my own writing (my recent story "Becoming" being my first attempt). It was wonderful, of course, heart-achingly beautiful and poignant. It evoked a level of emotion in me that I hope to one day achieve in my own writing. The movie was wonderful, I loved it, but maybe because I'm a reader and a writer the short story - condensed, tightly written and powerful - had a much stronger impact on me. I think it's one I'll come back to.

Facebook continues to be interesting. Despite privacy concerns, it's been wonderful for connecting with people I thought were lost to me forever. Old friends, connections broken by life and circumstance, have been popping up everywhere. Makes me nostalgic for my old hometown, and for at least some parts of my childhood.

My son and I are working on growing some little pumpkins for Halloween, though I fear we may have planted the seeds too late. Today I found a female flower, little green baby pumpkin attached, so I hand-pollinated it. We'll see what happens. If push comes to shove, I'll buy a little pumpkin from the store and shove it among the leaves sometime in October. Hopefully he won't catch on that it's a big fake-o.

If you're of the liberal mindset and interested in politics, check out my friend Diane's website, The Wild, Wild Left. I've posted some essays there before, and hope to again eventually, but there are lots of good writers hanging out ranting about this or that. Caution, though - if you're conservative and looking for a scrap, you'll get one - they're pretty devoted over there.

In any case, off to write for a bit. The book sale is ongoing through Saturday, so I may sneak back over there in a little while. Shhh....don't tell anyone, ok?

Image © 2009, Lynette Mejia, all rights reserved

Is District 9 Racist Against Nigerians?

2009-09-11T08:56:00.004-06:00

I loved District 9. I'll admit, however, that I kept wondering throughout the whole thing why the gangster-types were all Nigerians. I figured there must be some kind of cultural reference I was missing. It bothered me somewhat, even though I still loved the movie. I think it had some important things to say about the nature of the "Other" and what it means to be human. We use that term as a synonym for kindness and mercy, but by and large I don't think humans tend to act in accordance with how we like to view ourselves.

In any case, I've been following some of the reactions to the same questions I had. One author who's blog I follow, Nnedi Okorafor, was very offended, and the whole Nigerian thing ruined the movie completely for her. Here is her post. And she's not the only one. There's been a lot of backlash on the internet by people who resent Nigerians being portrayed in such an unflattering light by the filmmakers. Some are calling for an apology by the film's director, Neill Blomkamp.

From Tola Onanuga at The Guardian UK, however, comes another perspective: Why District 9 Isn't Racist Against Nigerians. In it the author makes a case that the director portrayed the white corporate types and "MMU" employees as much more evil, that the film is intended to be a reflection of the inhumanity of all the humans in the story, and the evolution of the aliens from the ultimate "Other" to creatures who have more in common with us than we'd like to think.

Both of the above authors, by the way, are of Nigerian descent.

So what's the opinion here? Is District 9 racist? Are some humans deliberately set apart as "worse" than others?

I tend to think the originality of the story, the relevance to issues the whole world faces relating to race, and the superb film-making that went into the movie ultimately override any concerns I have about which human group is depicted as the most evil.

Still, though, it nags me...did it have to be Nigerians?

The Point Game

2009-09-10T08:19:00.002-06:00

Found this article today, published in the New York Times a few weeks back. It's about the Accelerated Reader Program, and I think it makes some good points. Both of my children go to schools that use Accelerated Reader, and, I have to admit, I have mixed feelings about it myself.

On the one hand, I think anything that promotes kids' interest in books is a good thing. AR, through its point system, gives kids reading goals to work toward, and at both my kids' schools, meeting those goals is rewarded at the end of the year. It's a big deal to get an AR award, and, after growing up in a school system in which only athletic achievements garnered attention, I think that's a wonderful thing.

On the other hand, however, I remember as a kid having a stack of my favorite books, and reading them over and over until they were dog-eared and falling apart. They were dear to me, priceless even. Some of them I still have, all these years later, and every time I look at them on the book shelf I'm 7 years old again, reading on a drowsy summer afternoon.

My kids have the same habits, but with AR in the picture, I can't allow them to follow their natural reading instincts. In order to get the points, they have to stay on reading level, constantly read new things, and rush through books in order to get the required points by the end of the grading period. There is no lingering over a beloved book. There is no rereading. There is only the numbers, and what the numbers can get you. In some ways it turns reading into a chore, something else to be checked off on the homework page. Reading isn't an escape for them - it's becoming part of the grind. We can't even have a break in the summer, as both schools now have a "Summer AR" program.

I'm still of a dual-mind about the whole thing. As I said, I think anything that encourages kids to read, to discover new authors and to broaden their horizons has merit. But to turn it into something quantitative, something to be measured and compared and reduced to a data set for the gratification of schools...that just seems fundamentally flawed.

September 3, 2009

2009-09-03T08:20:00.004-06:00

I keep nearly all of my fiction books in my bedroom. Since they number somewhere around 600-700 volumes, you can imagine what that looks like. The walls are lined with bookshelves, which are themselves crammed to overflowing. I designed it that way for a reason, however. Books are my talismans. They make up the fortress that surround me when I sleep. I find it comforting to wake up and see them all there, quietly waiting, sentinels whose magic and knowledge keep whatever lurks in the darkness at bay.

I write in there too. Though most of my business is done in my office, the meat and bones of what I do take place in that room, where I can curl up on my soft bed with my laptop, surrounded by all those voices, some of them still speaking after hundreds of years. Shakespeare keeps me company. So does Dostoevsky, and Milton, and Stephen King and Neil Gaiman. Jane Austen keeps my time. Isaac Asimov types furiously along beside me. Hemmingway and Poe drink in the corner.

They're good company, if a little daunting. My prose wilts like a weed in a forgotten parking lot when I really stop to think about how it compares to what surrounds me on the walls. Most of the time, I try not to think about it, but occasionally it gets to me. I look at those words on the screen, and I wonder, who am I kidding? This is horrible, a monumental waste of time.

But then I stop, and I look around, and I remember that at least some (if not all) of them went through the same thing, or at least something close to it, at one point or another. Everyone has self-doubts. And truthfully, when it comes down to it, I don't write because I think I'll make money at it, or because I think I'll have some sort of fame or illustrious career down the line. I write because I have to, because, for as long as I can remember, it's been my vocation, whether or not I wanted to admit that. I write because, well, what else would I do? In the end, though we all look outside occasionally for validation, the only real opinion that matters is mine. Who gives a shit if anyone else ever reads what I write?

I look up, and they're nodding and smiling. I smile back, and look down again, down at the terrible prose on the screen, the stuff I write, the stuff that makes me happy. I put my fingers on the keys, and I continue.

Dead Winds' and Spent Waves' Riot

2009-08-27T08:07:00.003-06:00

And our newest feature - guess which poem today's title was snurched from! A bit of a game I play sometimes, for those of you who know me well. Several of the blogs I read use song lyrics, snippets of poetry, etc. in their titles, and I get a little thrill when I recognize where it came from. A clue to a secret message; a shared wink, as it were.

1300 words on "Limbs" yesterday, wrapping up my first draft. Today I need to jump back in and start the revising process, though that can be a tricky thing. Sometimes you need to step away from a project in order to see it clearly again. I also hate to do it because I know that, in its current form, this thing sucks, and as many times as I tell myself that first drafts are supposed to be awful, that every piece of art starts out as a crude approximation of its final form, it's still hard to look back at what I've written and see it so mangled and crude. In some ways, it's easier just to look away. It has to be done, though. I need to get some fresh stuff to market.

So here I am, in this bright morning time when I'm groggy and fuzzy-headed and not quite all there yet. I normally like to write in the afternoon, sunset or thereabouts, but the time between 3pm and 9pm is taken every day by homework, extracurricular activities, and the like. Things have definitely ratcheted up a notch this year, for both my kids. And, as a consequence, for me.

Still, I'll do it. In a few minutes I'll rattle into the kitchen for a fresh shot of caffeine, then screw up my courage and open that file. I do it because, despite the anxiety, despite the uncertainty of a paycheck and the nagging fear that I'll never be as successful as I want to be, I still love what I do. Time to get to work.

August 25, 2009

2009-08-25T07:19:00.003-06:00

1200 words yesterday on my new short story, "Limbs", inspired by a chopped up live oak tree I glimpsed along the side of the road Sunday while bringing the kiddos to visit their dad. This will be my first horror story in a while, and I'm happy to be back in the area. I like writing horror, or, as I suppose it could be called, "dark fiction." It's a place where I'm comfortable as a writer - peeking into the darkness we all know is under the bed or in the closet. It appeals to my inner child (and yes I know I was a weird kid. I still am.) For a while the only stories that came to me were fantasy. I'm glad that black-eyed kid is back. I missed her.

In other news, a very unusual August cold front arrived over the weekend, bringing in dry, crisp air with the tiniest taste of Fall. It's my favorite time of year, my most productive as a writer, and it cheered me a great deal to feel the first, tiny yawn of Nature. She'll be going to sleep soon, and I'll be waking up again. But, isn't that always the way of it?

Review: The Red Tree by Caitlin R. Kiernan

2009-08-18T13:44:00.002-06:00

I've been a follower of Caitlin R. Kiernan's blog for a year or so now, but The Red Tree is the first of her books that I've read. I follow her blog for the same reason I follow other authors - to get a glimpse inside what the process is for them, how they write, create, and manage to move in and out of the world of their art. I think I like her blog best, however, and I find myself looking for her posts every morning, mainly because she doesn't gloss over the life she leads, and the difficulties she has as an artist. It's all out there for the world to see - the bad days, the periods of writer's block, the fears she still has about whether or not she's good enough. She lets her readers into her life in ways I'm still not brave enough or comfortable enough to do yet in my own writing, or even here.

Yeah, I know, I know, this is a book review. I'm getting to that.

My point is, over the course of reading her blog I've come to know a few things about her, and when I read somewhere that The Red Tree was autobiographical to some extent, it interested me. It's a tricky thing, injecting some of what you are into a story - it sort of sets up a "is it real, or is it memorex" kind of situation for readers and fans. I started reading the book with that mindset, and the feeling stayed with me throughout the experience. The reality of it, however, turned out to be much more layered and complex than that.

Let me say first of all that I loved the book. Not in the way one loves Shakespeare, or Hemmingway, but in the way one loves Poe, or Lovecraft, or Swinburne. The Red Tree left a mark on me, a feeling that I know I'll get every time I see it sitting there on the shelf. Even as I type this, and look down at it here beside me, I'm drawn into it, into the atmosphere the author created, and I feel myself slipping into a memory of that world - the world of Alice - through the looking glass, as it were. A world where "everything we see is but a dream within a dream."

And that's the point of The Red Tree, I think. Throughout the novel, I went round and round with the story, in and out of reality, in and out of what might be true, what might be dream. I thought about how many things the protagonist had in common with the author, and I wondered - what is real here?- with every chapter I read. What is real for Sarah, the protagonist? What is real for Caitl in? What is real for any of us?

Throughout Sarah's journal entries and dreams, her research and her memories, I was kept slipping, looking for a foothold into reality. As it turns out, this is both the draw and the magic of The Red Tree. It's a book about finding oneself lost, even though the path may appear straight; about the confusion and pain of losing our way, and how anger and pride cloud things even further. It's all of those things wrapped in an atmosphere of dark fantasy and gothic sensibility, and it was a great read. Five Stars.

I Love the Night

2009-08-13T16:05:00.003-06:00

Homework done. School papers and forms signed. Time to write.

Terrible time waking up this morning. I've always been a night person, and this is not something one turns on and off with a switch. The first day was taken care of by the fact that I was excited for my kids, but three days in and I'm suffering from severe time-warp shock. It's still dark when my alarm goes off at 5:30am, and, I don't know, that just seems to me like an affront to nature. My body fights it with everything its got. Unfortunately, I know myself well enough to understand that I won't ever really adjust. Oh, well. Guess I'll just play catch up on the weekends.

As it turns out, my best-laid plans of writing all day while the kids are at school have gone predictably awry. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I have to be with my son at school every day, which doesn't leave much time for fiction. During the day, anyway. So, as an alternative, the LOML and I have worked out a schedule whereby he takes over when he gets home from work, and I disappear for a couple of hours to write. I'm sure it will be a fluid thing, changing here and there as need calls, but the point is I have set aside time. Everything else be damned, I have set aside time.

This experience I've had the past year or so, the experience of "becoming" a writer, has really opened my eyes to the balancing act most of us have to perform to practice our art. We have jobs, families, a million things that call us from the pen, a million distractions waiting right there at the edge of our vision. That some of manage to do all of these things, play all of these roles, and still find time to create worlds in the time that remains is absolutely amazing to me. It's a balancing act to be sure, a delicate dance, whereby I try to avoid alienating my family, keep up my obligations, and write a book. Oh, yes, and make sure everyone has clean socks to wear.

Yesterday I used my apportioned block to begin a new story, "The White Crow". It's based on another story I started last summer on vacation, one that ended up losing it's focus and being shelved. This time around I managed to pick up the spark I'd somehow lost, and finished the outlining along with a few paragraphs in one sitting. So now I have a plot, and tonight we'll see how closely I end up sticking to it.

You have to want to be a writer. You have to want it bad. Turns out it's not really a choice of careers - it's a vocation.

My Thoughts Were So Loud...

2009-08-08T14:45:00.004-06:00

Everyone is gone this afternoon and I am alone for the first time in weeks with my thoughts. It's a good feeling, this - everyone should be comfortable rattling around in their own heads once in a while. For me, it's peaceful - the constant need for conversation and interaction when other people are around is hard for me to maintain indefinitely. I imagine I could do rather well as a hermit, though I'm not interested in a cloistered life. The little silences I come by from time to time are enough.

It's been a long, hot summer. I haven't written much at all, only collected ideas on little scraps of paper like a squirrel saving up nuts for winter. I have them all over, in my journal, on my desk in a little shuffling pile, even as voice memos on my phone. I just spit them out, from time to time, as if my writing self is just trying to remind me she is there, waiting, albeit not terribly patiently.

The weather this summer has been uncommonly hot and dry. Louisiana in summer is normally hot, yes, but not Arizona hot. Not West Texas hot. It is supposed to rain here, nearly every day, in afternoon thunderstorms that darken the skies and send cool breezes. Most of this summer has instead been dry, and eerily quiet. Tempers are on edge. Lots of people are angry, and restless. So far even the hurricanes have been kept at bay, though as we learned with Andrew in '92 that type of summer can end badly.

My kids and I have spent a lot of time down at my mom's old place, cleaning up and restoring her gardens. We sweat buckets, work until we're about to drop, and then have a picnic lunch followed by a dip in the local river and later on, a visit to Sonic. My children have had a taste of what my summers were like as a child, and that makes me happy indeed. My daughter calls herself a 'country girl' now, and wants to move there permanently, and to that I laugh, though a little sadly. Not yet, my girl. Not yet.

It's also been the summer of the vampire around here. The LOML and I have been watching True Blood on HBO, and reading Charlaine Harris' Sookie Stackhouse novels. Last night I finished Let Me In, the book upon which Let the Right One In was based. My kids have been dressing up in an old bat costume and running around pretending they have fangs. It's lent an air of surrealism to this place, but I consider that a good thing. I'm happy that my kids are inheriting a penchant for the fantastic.

In any case, though the heat refuses to let go, summer will be winding down soon. The kids go back to school on Tuesday, and after settling them in, I'll go back to writing. I'll miss them, but I've missed that creative outlet as well. It's never been about the money for me (that's a good thing, too, cause I make practically zippo); it's about loving to tell stories. About finding magic in the world, and, failing that, creating magic myself, stories and people and lives out of thin air. I wouldn't change my life for anything, and I gladly give up my summers to make those memories with my children. I want them to remember these days when I'm gone, remember me as more than just a shadow at the computer. But there's another side of me as well, and she's calling to me. She has always called to me. And sooner or later, I always have to answer.

Burnin' Down the House

2009-07-05T10:18:00.002-06:00

Spent yesterday working on the renovation project, which turned out to be a very long day in very, very hot weather. Luckily, the entire yard and attached forest is extremely shady - otherwise, we just wouldn't be able to work 8+ hours in 100+ heat. Even with the shade, however, we still have to take frequent breaks and down gallons of water and Gatorade. It's slow going. Still, progress was made.

At this point we have pretty much given up on the house. Everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, is falling apart on it. It wasn't well-built when it was constructed in 1973, and now, 30 some-odd years later, it is well and truly falling down. The floors, roof, electrical, plumbing - you name it, it has to be replaced. So, for the time being, we've just put the house on the back burner. It was my childhood home, the only house I remember growing up in, and so it makes me sad to think that we'll have to tear it down, but that's what it's starting to look like. Getting it back into shape would mean basically tearing it down to the studs at this point, and for that kind of money, we could rebuild something that more accurately fits our needs, and reflects our style. Therefore, in typical fashion, I'm just leaving it for now.

Instead, we're focusing now on the 10 acres of lawn, gardens, and forest. The current stage is clean-up and demolition, the latter encompassing about 400 miles of rusting, rotting fencing. Yesterday we took down part of the back fence, and the entire creosote fence across the front of the property. It was hot, sweaty work, but for once I was glad for the lack of rain. It meant the ditches we had to work in to get at the fence posts were dry and snake-free. This is a very, very good thing. I also managed to do a bit of pruning, and my sister Laura cleaned the pine straw and muck from the top of her little house. The LOML, meanwhile, got to operate a chainsaw for the first time, and took out two dying trees (one dogwood, one pear). It was a good day.

At the end of the day we were all tired, but happy. We got stuff done, stuff we can see and measure. Each time we go it looks a little bit better. Photos with the next post.

Some Results

2009-06-26T09:22:00.009-06:00

So I've been going on all spring and summer about the renovation project we've been working on at my mother's home in the wilds of western Louisiana, promising all the while to post pictures when I have them. Problem is, at the end of the day we are normally so dead-dog tired that I either forget to take any photos, or forget to upload them when I get home. Finally, though, I've managed to get a few off my camera to share.

I had the foresight to take some "before" pictures just before we started work in late March. Unfortunately, instead of planning my pictures around future projects, I just walked around randomly shooting things. Therefore, some of the after pictures correspond to before shots, and some don't. Still, it's amazing, even though we are still so early into the project, how much impact our hard work has had. It looks totally different, and that makes it very much worthwhile.

I'll also post these on my Facebook profile, if anyone is interested...

Front of House Before

Front of House After

Front Bed #1 Before

Front Bed #1 After

Front Bed #2 Before

Front Bed #2 After

As you can see, we've mostly limited our work to outside the house for the moment, cleaning and replanting my mother's flower beds, gardens, and removing 40 years worth of pack-rattery and just plain stuff that has accumulated. It's hot, dirty work - but it more than makes up for it with sheer psychological impact. We are watching the landscape literally transform before our eyes, and whenever I feel like we are spinning our wheels, so to speak, all I have to do is go back and look at these photos again to see the difference our work has made.

2009-06-15T10:54:00.006-06:00

No title today. I don't feel like it. Damnit, why should I always have to put a title on these things? This is supposed to be a journal, where I write whatever I want. I'm tired of reading advice posted here and there about using blogs as a self-promotion tool for writers, especially those breaking into the business. But how can readers get a feel for who I am and where my stories come from if I'm consciously constructing posts that ring false, even to my own ears?

I guess it's obvious that I'm in a bad mood today. Impatient. Easily irritated. I hate chaos and confusion. I prefer to write when I am calm, in my own space, curled up in the dark in my bedroom or office. I hate the days when I spend the whole thing chasing after time to sit down and catch my breath. Today has been like that.

Related to paragraph one up there, I haven't twittered all weekend. I haven't posted to Facebook. Instead of slogging through hundreds of unread posts in Google Reader, I just deleted them all this morning. Honestly, I don't know how people do it. How do you post, and comment, and answer, and post some more, all while writing and living anything resembling a normal life? I think I need to step back somewhat, and take a breath. It's all becoming overwhelming.

Despite the fact that I've gone against instinct and put myself out into the public with a web page, twitter account, facebook, myspace, blah, blah, blah, I'm aware that I don't have many readers. I'm mostly speaking into the ether, and most of the time all I hear are my own words echoed back from the blackness. That's ok. I'm going to stop worrying about how much I post here, or there, or whatever. If I have something to say, I'll say it. Otherwise, I write. I'm not doing this for the money, or any potential fame. I write because it's what I do. Period.

I don't need another reason, another outlet, another "connection". I just need me.

Review: The Strain by Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan

2009-06-11T17:47:00.003-06:00

I have to be honest – I initially picked up The Strain because of Guillermo del Toro’s name plastered across the front – “From the Creator of the Oscar-Winning Pan’s Labyrinth!” I’m a big fan of del Toro’s, and in fact I loved Pan’s Labyrinth as well as his more recent Hellboy 2. He brings a surreal vision, a dark fairy tale-like quality to his projects that I admire. From a writer’s perspective, however, I have to say I feel for Chuck Hogan, overshadowed as he most certainly is by his co-author’s celebrity. In any case, I’m a long-time fan of vampire fiction and mythology as well, so I figured it was worth a read.

The book is the first in a trilogy about an old world vampire who hitches a ride aboard a passenger jet from Germany to JFK in order to make lots of baby vampires and take over the world. Vampirism itself is treated as a disease (hence the title), and many of the old tropes about garlic and crosses are abandoned. On the opposing side, trying to save humanity, are CDC specialist Ephraim Goodweather, his assistant Nora, and, presumably in a nod to Stoker, Abraham Setrakian, an aged vampire hunter who survived the Treblinka death camp in World War II and has spent his life studying and preparing for this conflict.

I really liked the fact that this is truly a horror story – no handsome, moody, teenaged vampires here. I was actually really creeped out reading this thing in the middle of the night. These vampires are evil, and they’re scary, and they’re everywhere, hiding in suburban basements and subway tunnels, just waiting to jump out of the darkness and make a snack of anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. The authors are spot-on when it comes to keeping the action level just right and sustaining the fear factor, building to the ultimate showdown with the master vampire himself. It reads like a good fright-fest movie, and I say that as a compliment.

This, however, is the flip-side of what I didn’t like about the book. It was originally pitched as a script for a television series to Fox, and that’s exactly what it reads like. As I read it I couldn’t help but feel like I was reading a movie novelization. The characters, their dialogue, the settings, everything feels a bit contrived, as if I were reading the proposal for a movie. In the end, though, the good storytelling kept me interested, and that, on the most fundamental level, is what makes or breaks a book.
The Strain will never be considered among the canon of great American literature. It is what it is – a rollercoaster ride, a well-written horror movie, a summer fling. It’s fun to let go now and then, and give yourself over to an experience without having to think much. Bottom line – it’s a page-turner, and I liked it. Three stars.

In This Kingdom by the Sea

2009-06-03T20:54:00.004-06:00

"Becoming" is tearing my heart and soul to bits with red-hot tongs. Some stories come pouring out like blood onto the paper; some stories require more thinking and planning to be born; and some...some have to be pulled, kicking and screaming, fighting all the way. This is definitely one of those.

Every day I sit down, and stare at it. Then I go off on some tangent, checking email or twitter, or some such nonsense. Eventually I chide myself for procrastinating and get back to it, reading through and making corrections as I go (I'm an in-process reviser girl). Then I get to the end, and the blank space stares at me like the view from the gang plank, and slowly, tentatively, I start walking. Every sentence goes down at a cost. It's taking me forever to write, and I suspect it will take just as long (or longer, if I put it away to percolate for a while) to revise. Still, it's coming. Slowly, damnit, but it's coming.

Some good news today. The folks at The Absent Willow Review let me know that "The Last Fairy Tale" has been chosen to be included in their first-ever anthology, to be released at the end of this year. I'm absolutely thrilled. I love this story, and I loved the experience of writing it (on vacation in the middle of a beautiful forest). So, I'm happy for the news.

The LOML is still away, though, which tempers things. Hard to be apart from him for any length of time. We are very, very close. He is my best friend and confidante, the driving force behind my decision to be a writer, my cheerleader and my other half. I hope he is able to come home soon.

Dog Days

2009-06-01T08:02:00.004-06:00

Not much writing accomplished in the last few days. Friday I was coming home from a dentist's appointment for my son when I heard a progressively loud sound and felt my car tilting to one side. I was close to home, so I managed to hobble in on the flat without damaging my rim, which was good. Since the other three tires were nearing the end of their life spans, I decided to get them all changed, and so the rest of the day was devoted to getting that done. Saturday was an all-day visit to New Orleans to see my in-laws and do a little sight seeing, and Sunday I woke up in pain, which turned out to be a nasty UTI, which meant a doctor's visit followed by a pharmacy trip. I also had to bring the LOML to the airport, as he has a business trip to the UK this week.

Jeez. It's exhausting just talking about it.

I'm not terribly optimistic about today, either, as there is a pool to clean, a lawn to mow, and my favorite aunt who is home for only a couple of days which will require a visit. Tomorrow, though. Ah, tomorrow and tomorrow...

The good news is, I finally know where "Becoming" is going, and I left myself breadcrumbs so that when I can sit down again, I'll already be on the road. The novel, too, is progressing nicely, though I wish I could come up with a title. Summer is always a blessing/curse kind of thing, as the obligations that go along with two kids in school (homework, structured bedtimes and early risings) are gone, but in their place are kids who need to be supervised. I love having them home, but it makes searching for time to write a little more interesting. Taking care of the pool will help - they spend hours entertained and I can sit in the window and get things done.

Like I should be doing now.

Here, But Not Quite

2009-05-20T06:45:00.003-06:00

I knew this week I wouldn't get much done, what with end-of-the-school-year parties, award ceremonies, etc, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with psychologically. When I can't write I feel that constant pull in my subconscious, something akin to a mixture of hooky-guilt and an addiction. It's a constant longing that is only fulfilled by time spent pecking away, digging through my imagination.

Yesterday was fun. No, not really. I brought my car to a mechanic because the a/c is blowing hot air when I am idling at red lights, etc., and he announces that not only will it be $700 to fix that little problem, but that my brake pads are 90% worn and my rotors are warped, setting me back another $350. My nephew told me that the brake thing is much cheaper if you do it yourself, but I really don't relish the idea of driving off the side of a cliff somewhere because I managed to put my brakes back together wrong. So, around $1000 to make everything right, a huge blow to the budget. Can't be put off either, because turns out the a/c thing was due to the engine cooling fan crapping out, a situation which, if not remedied, could lead to engine overheating and the aluminum engine heads warping. Not good.

I did get a little writing done whilst sitting in a coffee shop waiting for the great news. Got about a thousand words on a new story, "Ghost in the Machine", which, unfortunately, I think I'll end up scrapping, because it just sucks. (Did that last sentence really need all those commas?) I want to go in another direction with it. Also got some work done on the novel, as I've changed my mind about the age of one of the major characters, so I had to go back and insert the relevant details in his scenes.

All in all it was kind of a blah day. Today will be better, as I'm heading out to see my little boy perform on stage and get his school awards. Have to pick up some chlorine for the kids' pool. Then home. To write. And get my fix.

What I Want to be When I Grow Up...

2009-05-12T15:44:00.002-06:00

With thanks to The Wonder Cabinet:

From Frederik Pohl's memoir, THE WAY THE FUTURE WAS:

"The times when a writer isn't writing are called "writer's slump." Everybody has it, at least now and then. Nobody, or nobody I know, is wholly successful at dealing with it. I don't know how to deal with it any more than anyone else, but what I do know is a way to postpone its happening, pretty well, most of the time, in a fashion that works, more or less, for me. What I do is set myself a daily quota of four pages. No more, no less; and I write those pages every day, no matter where I am, no matter how long it takes, if I die for it. Sometimes it takes forty-five minutes. Sometimes it takes eighteen hours. Sometimes I am reasonably satisfied with the words that go onto the paper, and quite a lot of the time I loathe them.

"but I DO them. If I miss, if I skip ONE DAY, the rhythm of the stride is broken and the shattered edifice of my life tumbles down on my head. So I do it every day, which means every day there is, including Saturdays, Sundays, Christmas, my birthday, the day I'm going to the dentisty to find out if I'm going to need a root-canal job, the day I fly to London, the day I am so badly hung over that my eyelashes bleed. I do my quota in airports, on boardwalk benches, and in commuter trains. I have been known to take my typewriter along on a weekend date. "Every day" means "every day,"and this is the first rule of writing for me."

Review: The Indifferent Stars Above by Daniel James Brown

2009-05-11T11:12:00.002-06:00

The Donner Party incident has, over the century and a half since it was first publicized, become a part of the shared American history mythos. Unfortunately, it has also suffered from its notoriety – reduced to a sad tale at best and a punch line at worst. Like most people, I knew almost nothing of the tragedy itself when I picked up this book. I only knew the barest of facts – a group of wagon trainers caught in the high Sierra Nevada Mountains during brutal winter conditions who resorted to cannibalism to survive. As with all well-known historical episodes, however, there was, and is, much more to the story.

Instead of trying to focus on as many party members as possible, Daniel James Brown instead centers his narrative of the tragedy around one survivor, newlywed Sarah Graves Fosdick, who was only 21 when she set out with her husband and family on the journey. Through Sarah’s eyes, Brown is able to then illuminate the other victims much as another human being would, instead of relegating them to a catalog of facts.

The best history books transform their subjects from unknowable objects into what history truly is about – real people who dealt with monumental circumstances. Brown’s writing is superb, not only for having achieved this goal but for the way he brings us into what it meant to be alive in 1846. His research encompasses not only the Donner Party itself, but the social and economic forces which spurred the great American migration westward, along with practical and relevant knowledge about everyday life in the middle of the nineteenth century. All of these factors played a part in the choices these people made, and how those choices ultimately spelled their doom.

Daniel James Brown has written a seminal work on the history of the Donner Party incident. Anyone interested in this tragic, wholly American story would do well to read it.

Back for a Bit

2009-05-05T07:13:00.003-06:00

It's that time of year - May. This has become for me a month filled with end-of-school-year programs, award ceremonies, field trips, etc., etc. Yesterday was all day at a field trip out of town with my daughter, this morning was a P.E. program for my son, and Friday is another field trip with him. Yeah, I know I could miss them and stay home to work. But how many more years do I have? Not many. When they were born I made a vow to myself to not miss a thing, and it has been worth every bleary-eyed, WAY too early morning rise. Still, a girl's gotta have a right to whine now and again.

On a totally unrelated note, I have a little happiness to announce: The Absent Willow Review chose my story, "The Last Fairy Tale", as their Editor's Choice Award winner for the month of April. I was thrilled, to say the least. It's a really big deal for a new writer to have someone say, 'hey, not bad work.' Getting little things like this takes the sting out of the rejection pile, makes it feel worthwhile to keep going.

Miscellaneous catching-up to do today, paying bills, answering email, etc. Then novel work. Tomorrow I'll be out again, visiting my best friend in Slidell who had surgery on Monday. Thursday I'll be back, but out again for Friday, and possibly through the weekend. (Hey, it's Mother's Day weekend. I deserve it.)

Such Stuff as Dreams Are Made On

2009-04-24T07:39:00.005-06:00

Most writers will tell you that, by the very nature of the work, they are solitary creatures. Writing is a lonely business, and you have to be comfortable spending many hours inside your own head, rattling around like a ghost in an attic. It can be unnerving at times, hard to face head-on what's in there. Your memories and experiences define you as a human being and an artist, but constantly re-examining all of that shit is not easy.

Sometimes I worry that I'm slipping away from the things that should matter to me. I get so wrapped up in self-examination that I forget about the world around me. My family helps; when they come home at the end of the day they force me back into reality, force me to wake up and blink in the sunlight. That's a good thing. I think that if I lived alone I'd end up one of those crazy recluse artists whom no one appreciates until they're dead because they're loony as a tune.

It's who I am, though. I don't believe I could define myself without that part. Otherwise, I'm only the collection of things and impressions that people on the outside see. I'm a friend, a lover, a mom, a neighbor. But none of those things feel real to me. The writer, the introspect, the crazy cat lady living inside my head - that's who I am to ME. In some ways it's frightening; in others, it's incredibly comforting. Walking that line is where the art happens.

Yesterday I finished a new flash piece, "Invicta", and sent it off to be judged and hopefully not found wanting. If it doesn't sell I may post it on the website as a freebie, just because it's short, easy, and I really like it. I also got through notes and outlines of three stories, two of which could actually turn out to be book ideas. A good day, all in all, despite the unsettling notions sliding around in my head.

I've been tired lately, bone tired. All I've wanted to do for several days is sleep. I suspect it has something to do with a medication change this week, and I'm almost to the point of saying fuck it to the whole thing. I'll give it a few more days to work itself out first. I'm going to the farmstead tomorrow to work on the giant renovation project, then back here Sunday for a day off. I may or may not post, though my money is on next week.

Until then I sleep, and I dream...

You Say That I Should Care

2009-04-17T07:15:00.003-06:00

Finally back at home after a week or so of driving two hours nearly every day to the farmstead, working six or so hours, followed by another two hours home. It's been tough, but very gratifying, to see the place slowly creep back into shape. We have cleaned and replanted several of the front flower beds, raked and burned literally acres of leaves and pine straw, and started the LONG and arduous task of renovating the main house, which we hope to turn into a quasi-retreat. It's been bittersweet but nice to come home. For the first time in my life I feel I have ownership there, and that makes the place seem even more special. It truly is a beautiful piece of land, 10 acres smack dab in the middle of nowhere. A wonderful place for my kids to be kids in the old-fashioned sense, skinned knees, toads and all. A wonderful place to sit, listen to the wind in the trees, and just bask in the quiet. Will post pictures soon.

Today is for catching up on answering mail, paying bills, and writing. I need to finish the revisions on The Graveyard Road and send it out into the wild, something I should have done last week. When that is done I'm going to buckle down and finish the first draft of this novel. It must, nay will, be done by the end of the year. "Or else, what?" the cat asks.

Hell if I know.

Our Souls Are a Myriad of Wars

2009-04-09T14:48:00.001-06:00

The last couple of days have been full of revisions and revisions of "The Graveyard Road", and now, frankly, I'm sick of it. I've read the story so many times that it's become meaningless, like when you say the same word over and over again. I can't make sense of it anymore; can't judge where I am or what I've created at all. So, I've put it to bed, sent it off nice and cozy to the SFF Online Writing Workshop. A few fresh eyes will help tremendously. Hopefully, I'll be able to send it out into the wild again next week.

Tonight the kidlets head off to their Dad's house, and the LOML and I will have a few days together, which is always nice. No R & R, though, as we'll be heading out to the farmstead to work on putting the pieces back together again. It's ten acres out in RURAL Louisiana that belonged to my parents - the place where I grew up. In recent years it's fallen into major disrepair, so we've decided to jump in and restore things. This weekend, the first of many, I'm sure, will be mainly spent just securing the place and starting cleanup. Long term plans involve restoring/expanding the gardens, pond, and houses. It's a HUGE project, and neither of us is sure where it will end up. I'm excited about it though, I have to admit. There is true solitude there, not something to be found very often in our modern, shiny new world. Would be nice to have a place to go to where I can find the quiet again occasionally.

Last night we fired up WOW for the first time on our laptops, playing side by side in bed. We didn't have the advantage of the big monitors in our office, but it was certainly more cozy. We didn't do much, just some housekeeping and item swapping betwixt and between our characters, followed by a single little quest in the wilds of Durotar. Still, it was fun. Hoping to get more playing in over the next few days as the kidlets are on spring break and I won't have to get up at crack-thirty every single morning.

And now, for your viewing enjoyment, one of my favorite a-ha songs. Alas, there was never a true video made, and this version isn't as good as the one on the album, but you can at least get the idea:

It Will Make My Body Dissolve Out In the Blue

2009-04-06T17:51:00.004-06:00

Somewhat of a nonstarter today. Between getting nothing done on the 'tedious minutiae of life' front this weekend (for the uninitiated, that means paying bills, filling out misc forms, the general blah, blah, blah of everyday life), catching up on housework, and leftover exhaustion from yesterday (more on that in a minute), the day was over before it ever got started. This afternoon, normally one of my most productive times, was taken up with kidlet activities.

The exhaustion comes from the fact that on a SUNDAY morning, the LOML and I got up at the crack of dawn and drove 3 hours to do a day of maintenance and yard work on our rental property in Slidell. The LOML replaced the broken doorbell and front porch light, as well as cleaned the gutters and installed guards on them. I, meanwhile, removed a couple of flower beds, dug up umpteen bulbs, flowers, and shrubs, and pruned the navel orange and mayhaw trees. Then we had the joy of packing up all of the plants I uprooted (as a diehard gardener there was NO WAY I was going to let all those perfectly good plants go to waste) and drive another 3 hours back home, followed by unloading said plants, taking care of kidlets, and falling, exhausted, into bed at 10pm. So, as you can imagine, I am sore from head to toe today.

On top of everything else, the weather was dreadful today. Sunny, crystal blue skies (the evil kind - hard and cold like diamond) coupled with howling winds blowing sustained at 25mph with gusts (every two minutes or so) of 35mph or higher. I swear, my vision of Hell is a place where the dust-filled wind blows unceasingly. Tonight a light frost is expected, so I've had to protect all my recently planted warm weather vegetables. Oh, and did I mention the recent plague of flies?

It's all conspired to put me in a foul and unforgiving mood for the evening. As soon as the kidlets are squared away I'm taking a warm shower and sequestering myself in my nice warm bed with my laptop and my writing. Even at its worst, writing is my joy and my release.

Across a Year and Through a Day

2009-03-26T09:56:00.003-06:00

When I was a kid, Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are was one of my favorite books. I never had my own copy, but I obsessively kept it tied up and checked out of the school library, literally, for like, years. It was that kind of book for every weird kid, I guess - every kid who didn't quite fit in here, never really felt at home inside the mendacity of the everyday life of a child. Every kid who felt like, secretly inside them, they could take care of things themselves, that they didn't really need grownups as much as grownups told them they did. It's all about the fearlessness, and audacity, and adventurous spirit of youth. It's about seeing more than is really there, and being right.

When I did grow up, and had kids of my own, it was the first book I made sure they read. I have two children, but I don't have one copy for them to share, or even two. There are copies floating around all over the place here. It's been read for countless bedtime stories, and like me, it's turned out to be one of their favorites. It's timeless, and beautiful, and the truest vision of childhood I've ever encountered.

So, I was understandably worried when I got wind of a film version, as all lovers of beloved books-to-film type projects are. I have to say, though, that after viewing this new trailer released by Warner Brothers a couple of days ago, I am hopeful. Very hopeful. Check it out:

The Art of the Art

2009-03-25T10:33:00.002-06:00

Fairly productive day yesterday, as I wandered away from "Becoming" and started a new story, horror, called "The Devil's Wheel". It's about a carnival that shows up in town only once every ten years, and a loser, low-end criminal named Bucket who finds his way there...

A great find a few days ago, "Eros, Philia, Agape" by Rachel Swirsky, up at Tor.com. It's a wonderful story, full of everything I think good SciFi should strive to achieve - believable, solid characters who are trying to figure out how to be human in a world driven by technology. Check it out if you can.

The First Day of Spring

2009-03-20T07:47:00.017-06:00

...has arrived and I am infinitely glad. The vague sense of grey melancholy that descends upon me somewhere in mid-January begins to lift like a fog burning off in the light of the sun. And it's not the sunlight, per se, that carries me up and out...it's the greening of the world. The leaves and grass anchor things for me, and give me comfort. It's not the lack of sun that is the culprit in winter. It is the lack of life and vitality. I survive in winter time - I live in the spring.

So, to celebrate, I went out yesterday evening and took a bevy of pictures from my blossoming garden. Enjoy.

And for those of you who are still in the grips of ice and snow, take heart - the warm air is drifting your way, and it will arrive soon...

All images copyright 2009, Lynette Mejia.

Marking Time

2009-03-14T09:13:00.003-06:00

Rainy day here, which is a good thing for two reasons. One, we need the rain - the area is already in a moderate drought for 2009. Two, during the month of March, I have a very hard time staying indoors. The warm sun and the greening Earth are far too tempting. I want to be outside after the long, cold winter. I want to feel the warm breeze on my skin, and dig in the dirt. I want to be a part of the world waking up again. The fact that today is nasty out at least ensures that I'll be inside getting work done, which in my case is a very good thing, since I did in fact spend most of last week outside.

Watched "Flash of Genius" last night with the LOML. I thought it was a pretty good movie, which surprised me because of its low performance at the box office. After we were done I looked up the New Yorker article on which the movie was based, and found it very interesting. You can check it out here.

I did manage to get my website updated yesterday with publication news. Today is set aside to write, write, write, as well as sending a couple of stories back out into the wild. And maybe later on, a walk in the rain. Just for a little while. :)

"The Homecoming" Live at Niteblade

2009-03-01T09:21:00.002-06:00

My story "The Homecoming" is now live at Niteblade Magazine. It's only my second published piece, my first paid sale, and I am happy, happy to see it in print. It's also my first story to get an illustration, which makes it doubly cool. Please go visit, take a peek, and leave comments.

Thawing Out

2009-02-28T20:26:00.004-06:00

Spent the day at an outdoor event with my daughter that required me to stand around for hours in the cold, biting wind. I felt like one of those cows you see in snowstorms hunkered down against the cold and wet. It's taken me hours to properly thaw out. And yes, I know I am a wimp, that Louisiana cold doesn't measure up to 'real' winter weather. Be that as it may, I still freeze. I'll be glad when Spring comes for good.

Finished 'Memento Mori' a few days ago and sent it off to Chiaoscuro. So, now to wait and see.

Tomorrow will be spent inside, working, except for a short trip to the grocery. I'd also like to update the website and post a couple of short pieces so that visitors can get a sense of my work.

Last week's labors involved a lot of note organization and outline work on The Queen of the Night. I feel like I'm getting a much better handle on the more subtle plot points, and it's really helping to collect and arrange all of the notes I've made over all the long years of research. I have a couple of scenes that I need to finish, but I feel like the project is at long last starting to come together in a meaningful way. Hurrah!

Warm and Dark in my Little Black Heart

2009-02-12T09:29:00.004-06:00

Don't ask me where that title came from; I just don't know. I make this stuff up as I go along. It's what I do.

Pretty productive day yesterday, the first in a while, as obligations related to the Fly have been taking up much of my time. Was finally able to sit down and add about 1500 words to "Mememto Mori", the new short story. It's horror, by the way, if you didn't catch that from the title. Inspired by this. Have it out at the Online SF/Fantasy/Horror writer's workshop at the moment, but also looking for a market. My new strategy is to start pro and work my way down as I collect rejections. Am thinking of Clarkesworld to start for this one. We'll see though, that may change as I re-read, and put some final edits on the thing. In any case, hoping to have it out in a week.

Work on the novel beckons for now. I think I am done with reviews for the time being. Short stories, probably but no promises. One of the best things about being a writer is when you are sitting around and a good idea just drops out of the sky. When that happens, I have to listen, everything else be damned.

My goal is, 10 stories sold this year, one novel written and off to potential agents. So far I am on track with one sale to date. Hopefully this will be the next one.

Review: Babe & the Kid by Charlie Poekel

2009-02-12T09:26:00.003-06:00

I’m not a big baseball fan. I can admit that. I love history though, and like nearly every other American I’m a sucker for pop culture. Most of us tend to think of celebrity in terms of what Paris Hilton wore last week, but this story reminded me of a time when doing something nice instead of something stupid was what got lots of publicity.

Babe & the Kid tells the story of Babe Ruth and his enduring friendship with a young boy during and after the 1926 World Series. The kid, Johnny Sylvester, was seriously ill when a kind gesture by the most popular pro ballplayer of his day literally made the difference between life and death. What I found most interesting was the fact that their friendship endured for years afterwards, a testament to Ruth’s character. His visit and gift weren’t a publicity stunt staged for the camera, but the genuine actions of a true hero.

Poekel has done a fine job of researching the facts related to an iconic story in American sports. Especially welcome were the numerous photographs and memorabilia he was given access to through the collection of John Sylvester, Jr., who maintains the scrapbook his father kept of his extraordinary friendship with some of the leading athletes of his day. The book is well-written, an easy and accessible read, and thoroughly enjoyable

The High Cost of Living

2009-02-04T10:37:00.003-06:00

Yesterday was bizarre, bizarre. A step back in time for me, as it were. A bit of the backstory -

When I was a kid I was fascinated by death. Not in the 'killing small animals way' (actually I'm quite the pacifist in that regard) - more along the lines of infamous murders and the like. My mom had a book of famous crimes of the first half of the twentieth century (complete with photos), and I poured over the thing, reading with gusto all the gory details. I still remember the picture of Charles Lindbergh's baby. The story of Ruth Snyder & Judd Gray. As a teenager one of my favorite poetry finds was Ogden Nash's "A Tale of the Thirteenth Floor". I read books about Jack the Ripper and his ilk.

So yesterday I'm browsing around looking for info about the plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper. I found a site called FindaDeath.com, and I was quickly sucked in. It appears to be run by a guy who does celebrity death tours in Hollywood. I spent a couple of hours there, most of the afternoon, actually, reading the stories and looking at the pictures.

To be honest, I felt somewhat guilty by spending the day doing what amounted to staring in the street at the passing funeral procession, but it got me to thinking about the social taboos we have surrounding death. There are the euphemisms, for instance. (Down here in the south we say he or she "passed away.") There also seems to be a (fairly modern, it would seem) taboo against photos of the dead. Although I also found this yesterday, and it seems like a wonderful idea.

It's a shame, really, all these cultural rules and regulations. I think we dishonor the dead by refusing to deal with the more visceral aspects of it.

Death is all around us, every day. It stands behind us, holding that ticking clock. And yet, in our isolated, sanitized modern world of medical miracles and antibiotic soaps, we have learned to treat it like some pedophile uncle we'd like to pretend doesn't exist. It seems odd to me. I spent the day with Him yesterday, and while it was a strange day, it wasn't sad. Just...another part of life.

Momento mori. Et in Arcadia, ego.

The Absence of Malice

2009-02-03T09:33:00.003-06:00

...or at least, the absence.

Most of my posts lately have been book reviews. Apologies, as I have been writing, submitting, and taking care of the fly. I could say that I will try to be better about posting, but I always say that, so...

The LOML is leaving today for a business trip to the UK. I always worry when he flies. Only a couple of days, thankfully, returning by Friday evening. And hey, he has the added bonus of seeing some snow. Back here its supposed to be mid 70's by the end of the week, so he'll be returning to shorts & t-shirt weather. The year's first barbecue might just be in order.

In other news, I have finally been "officially" published. Twisted Tongue #12 went live yesterday, and it contains my story, "What Goes Around", along with a poem of mine, "Wicked." You can download a PDF of the issue here. Enjoy!

The music died 50 years ago today. Whenever I hear that song, it makes me wistfully sad, not only because of the tragedy, but because it makes me long for a time I never knew - that golden time when we are teenagers without care, immortal, inviolate creatures who will conquer the world. McLean captures that feeling so beautifully.

For the curious, a few links. Wikipedia's article about the crash; Photos (warning, you can see bodies); an analysis of the lyrics of "American Pie"; an article on the death of Buddy Holly; how Waylon Jennings carried the pain of what happened that night his entire life; and finally, the exhumation of the Big Bopper by his son who was born after his death. It was the first time he'd ever laid eyes on his father.

Take time today to look around you and take a long breath of air. Enjoy the feeling of being alive. Conquer the world.

Review: Nine Lives: Death and Life in New Orleans

2009-01-28T12:18:00.004-06:00

New Orleans is a city full of contradictions, a place out of context with the rest of America. It defies understanding, explanation, and most especially, classification. It’s a quality the residents hold onto, this testament of uniqueness, even as the city has teetered time and again on the brink of destruction.

I’ve lived near New Orleans for most of my life. I’m a frequent visitor there, and, like everyone else who comes, I’ve fallen in love with its decadent grandness, its welcoming, leisurely way of life. All manner of humanity calls New Orleans home, and the city embraces them all. It’s a unique place, out of step with the rest of America, and that is exactly why it is so important to save. This has never been truer than now, as the great lady teeters on her knees, still struggling, three years later, to rise from the devastation of Katrina.

Dan Baum, on assignment from The New Yorker after the storm, quickly learned all of these things. Along with his wife Margaret, he eventually moved to New Orleans in order to write a book, one which, using the timeframe between Betsy in 1965 and Katrina in 2005, captures perfectly what it means to love this city.

Baum chose nine people he got to know after the storm, conducting hundreds of hours of interviews, writing the story of the city through their eyes. They are from vastly different ends of the socio-political spectrum, ranging from the widow of a revered Mardi Gras Indian chief to the long-time coroner of Orleans parish, from a transsexual bar owner to a former king of Rex and pillar of the Uptown community. Their stories are unique, yet a common thread runs through them all – the deep, abiding love of this place, of the home New Orleans offers to each.

The author captures that love without being preachy or overly sentimental. New Orleans is far from a fairy-tale land of mutual respect, understanding, and tolerance. Poverty, desperation, and crime are huge, unending problems, and Baum acknowledges this by telling stories that are candid, real, and fraught with generations of loss and disappointment. They are also, however, stories of hope, of people who have risen, time and again, despite adversity after adversity.

Many people in the rest of the United States have questioned why we should rebuild such a place, crippled as it is by poverty and corruption. It takes spending time in New Orleans to learn its value, I suppose, to experience the unique magic that makes this city special. If you can’t visit, however, read this book. Dan Baum has clearly seen and understands. Five Stars.

Review: Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee

2009-01-15T13:12:00.000-06:00

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West by Dee Brown

Rating: 5 of 5 stars

Most people from my generation (X) take for granted that everyone is aware of the atrocities committed against the Native American peoples of the United States in the name of "Manifest Destiny". There was a time, however, not very long ago, when children still played games of cowboys and Indians, pitting the valiant U.S. Cavalry against bloodthirsty savages. This book, published in 1970, went a long way towards correcting 100 years of misinformation and ignorance concerning the plight of the people who lived in this land when the Europeans arrived.

Brown was remarkable because he was not a "trained" academic historian (whatever that means), amassing his wealth of information through years of personal research while a librarian at the University of Illinois. This book is hard to read, mainly because it contains story after story of the deliberate, systematic extermination of tribe after tribe. However, it should be required reading for anyone interested in American History. This book is, to put it plainly, the other side of the story.

View all my reviews at Goodreads.

Review: Wastelands: Stories of the Apocalypse

2009-01-15T12:55:00.001-06:00

Wastelands: Stories of the Apocalypse by John Joseph Adams

Rating: 4 of 5 stars

I love short stories, and themed anthologies like this one are a great way to cover a lot of authorial ground for your buck. This one, edited very capably by John Joseph Adams, had some true standouts - Elizabeth Bear's "And the Deep Blue Sea" is a clever, somewhat spooky tale,and David Grigg's "A Song Before Sunset" is a beautifully written and imaginative take on what the Apocalypse might mean to the cultural spirit of humanity. I can't say there were any stories I didn't like, but be warned - this is 300 pages of dark, mostly hopeless stories. Not a terribly cheerful read, but a good one.

View all my reviews at Goodreads.

Freeze-Tag

2009-01-12T06:58:00.004-06:00

The cold has returned here, with a vengeance. Not forecasted to rise above 55 F or so all week. For some of you, I'm sure that's pitiful in terms of chill factors, but for us down here in the deep south, it's a regular ice box. Only Saturday we saw highs in the upper 70's. All of the plants here had begun to spout, and people were out in shorts. It's a bit jarring to go from that to 35 F in less than 24 hrs.

Winter here is interesting, in that it is less of a time of sleep and snow and more of a constant battle between the cold and the warm. We are on the front lines of the War of Seasons - an ongoing conflict that leaves us with yo-yoing temperatures and confused flora. In any case, I am happy for the Spring-like days, and I get through the cold ones with a nice fire and layers of warm fuzzy clothing.

I was thinking about these things yesterday, about the way the world looks and feels in winter versus summer. I've decided that the differences I feel viscerally are actually due to the quality of the light. In the summertime, the sunlight is warm, golden-colored, and covers the world in a rich, thick layer of heat. In the winter the sunlight is thinned, pale, a shimmer that skitters off the surface of things without really supplying any warmth. The blue sky in summer feels like an aquamarine tropical sea, but in winter it turns into hard blue plastic, unforgiving in its vastness.

I guess its obvious that I have a bias towards summer. I know that's true. I am a girl of the Southern climes, and though I sometimes think about what it would be like to live in a place where the politics are further left and the seasons are defined and specific, I imagine I will remain. It seems to suit me.

Sex and the Undead

2009-01-09T11:53:00.004-06:00

From I09:

Vampires are the sexpots of the undead. Zombies are usually too blood-dribbly and rotted to be players. And ghosts are, well, insubstantial. Which leaves us with vampires, who are permanently young, beautiful, and possess a fierce need to suck things. How could they not be the poster-children for weird sex after death?

Where did all this sexual rule-breaking come from? Certainly Bram Stoker's late-19th century bestseller Dracula helped. He took legends of blood-sucking beasts, mixed them with a little Transylvanian history, and created a mesmerizing creature who drained British ladies of their blood and turned them into wantons. Cinematic versions of Dracula have played up the erotic side of this story, casting gorgeous men and lovely ladies with blood-red lips and strange desires.

I've always found vampire myths to be interesting on numerous levels. It's a shame that most horror mags aren't very keen on publishing vampire stories, though I can understand their point. Every disaffected, book-loving goth college kid has gone through a love affair with blood suckers, and most I'll wager have written a cheese-riddled homage to their favorite tragic characters. Still, I think the possibilities for exploring the myths, and mythos, surrounding them are far from played out. It's one of those things that seems to come in and out of fashion in entertainment and art. There was a big resurgence in the early 90's, and now with the whole Twilight business, here we go again. It would be nice to see more substance than barely-concealed romance novels and gore flicks, however (though Let the Right One In looks very interesting).

Until then, I'll have to satisfy my interest in what's there, I suppose. Love-starved, under-sexed emos of the world, take heart!

Resolutions for a New Year: 2009 Edition

2009-01-09T10:53:00.003-06:00

Is it too late to post my resolutions for 2009? I never write them on January 1st - I like to think about them for a while, contemplate what it is I want to do with myself after all of the sound and fury of the holidays has died down a bit. This year's goals are mainly professional, though the ubiquitous health/fitness stuff is thrown in there as well.

Some people find it juvenile and a waste of time to make New Year's Resolutions. I say we should always have goals - we should always be striving to make ourselves better, to stretch our horizons, to force ourselves to go places we've never gone before, both personally and professionally. The best advice I ever heard from a self-help book/person/whatever (I don't remember the source) was this: Do something every day that scares the shit out of you.

Others deride New Year's Resolutions because they say you should make goals all of the time, that you shouldn't wait until a new year to challenge yourself. Now, I agree with this 100% -but it's important to note that a new year has psychological significance as well - it's a clear cut beginning, a line in the sand, a starting gate. The idea that I'm going to start fresh and ready to go in January helps me to relax during the holidays and not freak out that X,Y, & Z aren't getting done, that I'm slacking off to spend lots of luxurious time with my family. I know that come the beginning of the new year, when everyone goes back to school & work, I'm ready to go. Call it a mental crutch, whatever. We do what we must.

In any case, without further ado, here is the list:

1) Publish (not write, publish) 10 short stories.

2) Write a book. (Not publish, but write, polish, and send out to potential agents)

3) Read 55 books (Up from 50 last year - I ended up with 51, so I figure this is achieveable)

4) Lose 20 lbs (On everyone's list I know)

5) Run a 5K race. (Only about 3 miles - I can do this if I get consistent with my exercise routine)

So there you have it. I try to keep them within the realm of possibility. The 10 stories is ambitious, I know, since I have placed only 2 in the last year, but damnit, you gotta push hard sometimes. We'll see how it goes.

In the Vortex

2008-12-16T08:19:00.002-06:00

Well, I'm still here. (More or Less) I apologize for the absence - all of a sudden I found myself sucked into the unforgiving vortex that is Holiday Madness. HUGE family Thanksgiving celebration, followed by equally huge Christmas production that is, admittedly, of my own making. What can I say, I'm a sucker for obsessing over giving my kids postcard-perfect memories of their childhood holidays. I want everyone I love to be happy and well-fed and feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. If other things have to suffer, well, I guess that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. One of those things being, unfortunately, my blog posting.

In any case, I am working, albeit on a reduced schedule (see paragraph one, above). A new short story, "Quid Pro Quo" in progress, as well as plans for three others, "Lilith in Love", "Patterns", and "The Silver Dollar", my first foray into the steampunk genre.

I will return, I promise, after the holidays with regular posting and daily doses of Procrastination Station. Until then, things will be a little thin around here. Enjoy the Holidays - you only get to go 'round this ride once.

Procrastination Station - Sunday Edition

2008-11-16T14:24:00.006-06:00

Procrastination is not just a weekday sport, you know. Some of the best time wasting is done on Saturday and Sunday, when you have the perfectly legitimate excuse of "hey, it's the weekend, so screw it." Also, kids are out of school and around on the weekends, and, well, that speaks for itself. They're only little so long...

At any rate, here are a few things to keep you occupied. Enjoy the afternoon...

The Universe Makes a Lot of Gas - Why science is important, from the perspective of a lab secretary. Yeah for cool people!

Why does it seem like so many writers are cat people? "Perhaps cats are important totem animals for writers. Perhaps writers hope their independence and mystique will rub off on them, and seek to emulate the slightly magical moggy's feigned disinterest when those bad reviews roll in."

The First Pictures of New Planets. Just imagine the possibilities.

Stephen Hawking calls for Moon & Mars colonies. Yep. What he said. Onward and Upward.

The ACLU and Brave New Foundation have started a petition to ask President-Elect Obama to close Gitmo and end Military Commissions. Any legitimate use the place ever had has been permanently overshadowed by the horrors that occurred there. As a nation we need to send the signal that we respect human rights again.

The Edge of the American West with a moving post about The Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C.

"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."
- George Santayana

Procrastination Station - Holy Crap I'm Behind Edition

2008-11-12T09:01:00.003-06:00

Beautiful day here today - after weeks and weeks of endless blue sky and dry as hell weather, we are finally in the midst of a significant rain event. Now, don't get me wrong, I love cool, crisp, sunny fall weather. But give me a break. I love the rain as well, and it's been far too long...

Terribly behind on all the work I have to do. NaNo is suffering, so I'll have to put in a long, long day to try and catch up. I didn't get anything done yesterday except for grocery shopping, so today is nose to the grindstone. That goes for procrastinating too - not nearly enough yesterday - I didn't even get to make this post. As a result, I have a long list for you today, so sit down, push that stack of paperwork somewhere you can't see it, and enjoy.

First, on writing:
Writing Advice to My Younger Self - Matthew Cheney on chilling out and finding your voice.

Is NaNoWriMo a good way to motivate potential writers or a drag on everyone else who's "serious" about getting published? I think if your work is good enough you shouldn't give a damn.

Next, Science (And Politics):

World's Oldest Temple discovered in Turkey. This makes the alternate-universe-archeologist me just tingle with delight. Unbelieveably cool.

The Phoenix Lander says goodnight. Thanks for all your hard work, little guy. Sleep well.

5 Myths About Recycling. Get off your butt and save the planet. It's worth a little extra time. Besides, you could be procrastinating while you sort that trash - it's a classic interpretation of the First Rule. (Do something else, anything else).

The story of a doctor who treated his patient's leukemia and ended up curing his AIDS. Genetic mutation as its most useful.

Do archeological treasures belong to the countries that occupy the sites, or to mankind as a whole? Curators and politicians throw down.

How do you know when you're dead? When God says you are, that's how. Of course, he never figured on life support...

Of course, if the LolCat of Death comes for a visit, well...it was nice knowin' ya.

The attitudes toward science of the Republican vs. Democratic tickets. Oh sweet patootie I'm so glad Obama won.

And, finally, a few miscellaneous items thrown in for good measure:
The Canadians are proud of us. Now that's saying something. For the record, yes I do drink the kool-aid. Sorry, I'm a believer. I love America so much mainly because of the myth. It's what makes us always want to be better.

The men behind your favorite liquors. Wow, I thought a lot of these were made up.

An interview with the man who collects all things Aleister Crowley. Interesting, if creepy.

Last, but certainly not least, make chocolate cake for one in a mug. That's it. I can die now.

Review: Descartes' Bones by Russell Shorto

2008-11-11T22:30:00.002-06:00

Descartes’ Bones, by Russell Shorto, takes the reader on an interesting and compelling journey through 400 years of history in search of the true final resting place of Rene’ Descartes, the man arguably responsible for the advent of modern scientific inquiry. Told within the framework of the many travels of the great philosopher’s bones throughout Europe, from his death in Sweden in 1650 until his skull’s current resting place at the Museum of Man in Paris, Shorto recounts how his life and work have been interpreted throughout the centuries, engendering ideas that have shaped the very fabric of Western Civilization.

The author is one of those rare history writers who have a gift for making their subjects come alive. With wit and a keen ear for suspense a la Dan Brown, he traces the story of Descartes’ post mortem journey in such a way that keeps his reader both engaged and entertained. Shorto presents the past the way it should be – full of interesting characters and intriguing stories Great events like the French Revolution are illuminated as more than simply the sum of dry dates and dusty facts, but seminal events that happened within the context of continent-wide changes in the way mankind viewed himself and his place in the world. Through Shorto’s superb storytelling skills and his extensive historical knowledge, the reader comes away from this book with a good understanding along with a better appreciation of Descartes’ impact on his world and his continuing influence today.

Procrastination Station - Monday Wake Up Call

2008-11-10T08:42:00.003-06:00

Roughly over 3000 words on the novel this weekend, though I am still woefully behind. As soon as I finish this procrastination business, I'm unplugging from the net and going to work. Must...catch...up. Hopefully by the end of this week I'll be cruising along without a care in the world. Or not. The book is a big, fat, P.O.S. so far, but Chris Baty assures me that this is not only perfectly normal, it's expected. We'll see about that. Focusing on NOT focusing on how crappy it is has taken up as much energy as the actual writing. Hopefully, though, this experiment will teach me how to write a book. And if I can't make this one work, the experience of learning how will lead to bigger and better things.

In the meantime, come waste some precious daylight with me. Here are a few things that I found interesting this morning...

From Ty.ranosaur.us: 15 famously filthy people. All I can say about this one is...ugh.

Of course, this led me (naturally) to: 5 Famous Authors and Why They Were Perverts, followed shortly by 5 More Famous Authors That Were Perverts.

Letters From Johns and Letters From Working Girls - Projects by journalist Susannah Breslin giving an anonymous voice to those who work in and patronize the sex industry. Interesting stuff, not as cut and dried as many of us would believe.

Newly discovered differences between men and women. Interesting, but the article makes an excellent point - your grandmother could have told you most of this stuff.

The World's Biggest and Most Expensive Green Homes. Well, their hearts are in the right place...

An interview with author Gregory Maguire. I'm reading A Lion Among Men right now, and I'm loving it. His prose is absolutely magical and flawless. I wanna write like this when I grow up.

And finally, An Open Apology to Baby Boomers. My generation finally learns about the hope and optimism that comes from changing the world.

Procrastination Station - Lazy Friday Edition

2008-11-07T07:55:00.002-06:00

NaNoWriMo is going well, by all accounts. So far I'm only a day or so behind on my word count, a situation I'll hopefully rectify this weekend. Instead of posting my word counts here, I've added a handy dandy widget on the left sidebar that displays where I am. In any case, right now it's Friday, an approaching cold front is bringing in some beautiful rainy weather, and I don't want to do a damn thing. I will, mind you, but I don't want to. So get another cup of coffee and join me for a while - hell, all that work'll still be there later.

The sharpest picture of Jupiter ever taken from the ground, courtesy of Astronomy Picture of the Day. Very cool stuff.

A collection of political cartoons celebrating the historic election of Barack Obama. I have great respect for political cartoonists - they are the court jesters of our day, telling the king the truth while simultaneously making him smile. I don't normally link to my political blog here, but I've been collecting them the past few days.

How to make a budget, whoops, excuse me, a spending plan. Can semantics make a difference in how we handle our money?

Finally, ever wanted to be Ammish? If so, here's how. Oh come on now, admit it. You find those hats cool and you know it.

Election Day

2008-11-04T10:24:00.001-06:00

Today we have the chance to be part of history. Make your voice count - vote.

Yesterday's NaNoWriMo End of Day Word Count: 2371

NaNoWriMo

2008-11-03T09:21:00.003-06:00

NaNoWriMo has officially kicked off, and I am once again making a stab at finishing my word count for the month. I've decided to name my project The Persistence of Vision, both because it underscores one of the major themes I've planned, and because, like this blog, it will be a reflection of focusing on the big picture instead of constantly bogging myself down in the details of my work. Details are for revisions. I have to think about the process now, not the result.

Unfortunately, due to familial obligations, I am already off to a late start. I'll be working nonstop to make up the difference though, and I'll post daily word counts here every morning. Now, onward and upward.

Procrastination Station - Monday Edition

2008-11-03T08:48:00.004-06:00

A quick one today, as unfortunately I don't have as much time as usual for putting off what needs doing. Gotta write, write, write. Never too busy to waste a few minutes though. Enjoy -

Blunders and Mistakes of Science and Engineering. Obviously written by one of the fold, but interesting, nonetheless.

Along the same lines, Top 10 Harmless Geek Pranks from Lifehacker. Although if someone pulled the Blue Screen of Death one on me, I'd probably go postal.

For the literary minded who like to mix pleasure with craziness, Casa di Libri, the House of Books.

Ever wonder how all that second cousin twice-removed business works? Check out the Relative Chart.

Finally, The Lost Years & Last Days of David Foster Wallace. A story that touched me both as a writer and as someone who has glimpsed the abyss. May he find peace.

Procrastination Station - Halloween Edition

2008-10-31T08:26:00.003-06:00

Happy Halloween and a Merry Samhain! Here are a few links I found this morning while putting off work, party preparations, and packing for a weekend camping trip. Not many people are talented enough to handle procrastination on such a scale, so take care. In the meantime, enjoy...

A clay bowl from the time of King David has turned up in Israel. No translation yet, but the intersection of biblical history and the archeological record is interesting.

A pardon is being sought for all of the men and women who were tortured and executed in 16th and 17th century England during the hysteria-fueled witch hunts. Sign the petition and give their spirits some rest, already.

John Scalzi is channeling his election frustration into some hilarious Election Lists:
I: People/Things I Would Vote For President Before I Would Vote For John McCain
II: The Verified Miracles of St. Obama

A guide to Kids Halloween Candy Code. Very cool. I wish I'd known about this when I was a kid.

The American Library Association's list of Haunted Libraries. If I were a ghost, this is where I'd hang out.

The conclusion of xkcd's "Secretary." Cory Doctorow to the rescue!

Now on to creepy spider cakes, costumes, and other assorted Halloween yummies. See you on the other side...

Procrastination Station - Thursday

2008-10-30T07:13:00.004-06:00

Here are some things that caught my eye today and gave me a few minutes of good, wholesome procrastination time. Remember to share and help someone you love put off the things they're supposed to be doing.

If all you know about Stephen Hawking is his work as a theoretical physicist, check out this article, written by the man himself. Too bad his speech synthesizer can't be recorded with a British accent.

On this date in 1969, the first message was transmitted over ARPANET, and the world was changed forever. Via Edge of the American West.

How much Halloween candy can you haul around? If you carry a pillowcase, about 48 lbs, it turns out.

Via Dark Roasted Blend, Caves that will astound you with their beauty and complexity.

A workshop at Emory University in Atlanta teaches teachers how to teach evolution. Some of their students scream "NO!" and wonder why they have to learn about evolution if it's just a "theory." Fighting ignorance one step at a time. Are we advancing as a society?

And finally, the top 10 Astronomy Pictures of 2007. An older post but still a goodie. Black holes on Mars and visualizing dark matter. Really, too beautiful for words. Enjoy the wonder of our universe, and marvel at our tiny place in it.

Procrastination Station - Wednesday

2008-10-29T08:45:00.007-06:00

Every morning I make it a ritual to waste copious amounts of time wading through my Google Reader feeds. As a new feature, I'll be posting a few each day to share the love and waste some of your time too. You're welcome.

The moon and various planets will be waltzing together in amazing ways in the days to come. Check out their Halloween Sky Show.

Creepy Urban Legends (that happen to be true).

MTV has announced a new music site, where they've got over 16,000 videos for you to peruse. I wasted a good 20 minutes here. (via MentalFloss)

Also from Mental Floss, Dr. Aas' Miracle Poo Cure. Are you a donor or a recipient?

The always hilarious xkcd, today with mayhem of an unusual size. "I have few principles, but I stick to them."

Via Netorama, Squirrel kabobs from England. People in my neck of the woods are saying, "What the hell's so new about eatin' squirrel?"

Also from Netorama, Famous Horror Movie Trivia: Everything you ever wanted to know about Jack Nicholson's backaches.

And finally, I feel sorry for this guy, I really do. Not bad enough that everyone on the train knows about your most embarrassing moment...just wait till the news wires get hold of it.

Review: The Wordy Shipmates by Sarah Vowell

2008-10-27T08:30:00.004-06:00

Sarah Vowell’s The Wordy Shipmates takes on the subject of early New England history with an insightful and sometimes amusing bent that makes it an easygoing and fun read. It’s an accessible and cool book, a Gen Xer’s take on how the puritan culture of seventeenth century Massachusetts and its neighbors still continues to inform our American mindset.

Shipmates takes us through the story of John Winthrop, a puritan minister who traveled to New England in 1630 aboard the ship Arbella with a group of true believers and a dream of creating a “city upon a hill” in the New World, a vision of America that we as a nation still espouse to this day. Along with Winthrop, Vowell includes several other prominent figures from the time: Roger Williams, founder of Rhode Island, banished from the Massachusetts Bay Colony for his outspoken arguments for the freedom of religion and the separation of church and state, Anne Hutchinson, a puritan woman gifted with a sharp legal mind and an even sharper tongue, as well as the Pequot and Narragansett Indians, natives who were forced to make room for the expanding European settlements.

With wit and an armchair style that makes the subject matter engaging and interesting, Vowell draws relevant parallels between the Massachusetts Bay Colony’s seal with its picture of a Native American holding a banner that reads “Come Over and Help Us” and our current national policy of “helping” foreign, sovereign nations with military intervention. The writing is smart, its thesis timely without being preachy. Both entertaining and informative, The Wordy Shipmates is an interesting little primer on the origins of American political philosophy.

Tom Piazza Discusses "City of Refuge"

2008-10-20T11:15:00.000-06:00

Review: Any Given Doomsday by Lori Handeland

2008-10-03T09:45:00.003-06:00

The apocalypse is a popular subject these days – it seems like everyone has a character who is the only thing STANDING BETWEEN HUMANITY AND TOTAL ANNIHILATION. So it is with Liz Phoenix, the heroine in Lori Handeland’s Any Given Doomsday. Liz is a psychic ex-cop with some heavy-duty guilt in her past and a big mystery to solve – why is the world coming to an end, and why is she the only one qualified to deal with it?

Handeland’s story is amusing, if uninspired. The usual cast of vampires and other assorted mythological creatures show up and align themselves firmly on their respective sides of good and evil, followed by the inevitable battle to decide the fate of all existence. In the author’s favor, there’s a fair amount of imaginative mythology here. I especially liked the way she hooked into Native American folklore.

The climax, when it comes, is predictable, but in a campy, almost fun way. This is a beach book for Goths and horror buffs, trite but entertaining, eye candy for a mindless afternoon. It’s the classic story we all love of a girl who wants the bad boy, and just can’t resist even though she knows he’s no good for her. I enjoyed it in the same way one enjoys a summer comic-inspired action flick or a favorite chocolate bar: just go with it baby, and don’t dig too deep.

Celebrate Banned Books Week - Read One

2008-09-30T07:11:00.003-06:00

This week (September 27 - Oct 4) is Banned Books Week. Various organizations have planned events highlighting our need to support both the freedom of the written word and the authors who create them. The American Library Association has materials and information available for anyone who wants to host an event. Amnesty International is encouraging people to support authors who have been persecuted for their work. Even Google is in, offering lists of banned books and links back to the ALA site for those who want to fight book challenges in their own communities.

Many times in the United States we take for granted the right to read or say whatever we wish, secure in our first amendment rights. Every day in every state, however, books are being challenged and/or removed from library shelves because some people believe they have the right to impose their moral codes on others through restricting their access to information. It's not all done through official channels either - I've personally known people who have gone into libraries and checked out books that offended them with the express purpose of not returning them, thereby "saving" someone from being exposed to the contents. It's a problem that needs to be addressed both with education and harsh penalties for people who take it upon themselves to decide what is appropriate for me to read.

Of course, those people are small potatoes compared to the threat from schools, libraries, and local governments removing or banning books. Sometimes it's a matter of public pressure or parent protest, and sometimes it's simply an elected official who decides to be the moral compass for the entire community. Whoever or whatever the reason, though, the simple fact is, it's wrong.

I'm not referring to pornography here. (Although I don't believe in censorship of any kind.) I'm talking about classics of literature. Mark Twain, for example, is consistently one of the most challenged authors. This issue is about much more than books - it's about the free flow of ideas, and it's about access to those ideas by everyone - the very definition of democracy.

So this week, celebrate. Celebrate your right to read whatever you want. Check out lists of banned and challenged books, and read something that someone, somewhere, thinks you shouldn't have access to. It's as much about freedom as the 4th of July. Even more so, I think.

Autumn At Last

2008-09-25T06:39:00.004-06:00

I can normally feel the first tiny breath of Fall. Even here, in hottest tropical Louisiana, sometimes at the height of hurricane season when the weather is hot, sticky, and miserable, a day usually comes when that smell starts, drifting down from northern parts unknown. It is subtle, only the smallest of hints, a breeze that brings with it memories of cool nights and dreams of crisp mornings. This year I smelled it in the middle of August, and I thought, that can't be right - Autumn is weeks away. The same week a swarm of love bugs, our twice-yearly scourge, dropped in. My ex-father-in-law used to tell us that when the love bugs come, a cold front is only two weeks away. It had always held true, but this year I was doubtful. A cold front, at the beginning of September? Unheard of here. Can't be.

My senses and his folk wisdom proved true, however, because during the week between Gustav and Ike when we were cleaning up, lo and behold in floated the cool air. It was a nice break, but unfortunately a short one, as Ike arrived a few days later with more flooding and another blast of hot, sticky Gulf moisture.

Since then, however, Fall is slowly but surely creeping back in. Last week a very weak cool front pushed through, not lowering temperatures but bringing in dryer air, a welcome relief here. Monday was the Autumnal Equinox, and, right on cue, yesterday the north wind picked up once again and brought cooler air this time - when I woke up this morning the temperature outside was 61F. (For Louisiana that is cool) As Fall is by far my favorite season, I am happy and my soul is at ease. Good weather for writing. Also for a big pot of gumbo.

1022 words on the novel yesterday, along with more research, thoughts about themes, and the beginnings of a new short story. I'm trying to work up to a daily average of 1500 - 2000 words, but all too often real life intrudes and I have other obligations. Still, progress is progress.

And Autumn has arrived, so it's all good.

It's 'Cause of These Things...

2008-09-24T07:50:00.004-06:00

Monday was productive with roughly 1000 more words on the novel, but Tuesday was a wash due to homestead obligations. Today looks more promising, as my schedule is cleared through the morning so I'll have several uninterrupted hours of writing time.

Another story sold! This one went to Niteblade, an online horror magazine based in Canada. That's two submissions accepted in a row, so I am overflowing with warm, fuzzy feelings and self-congratulations. The story was "Homecoming" which I'll post links to as soon as it is up.

Other news - I've finally launched my website, lynettemejia.com. It's still in preliminary stages, but at least it's there. Thanks to the LOML for hosting and general web-unbuggery. Wow. That sounded gross. At any rate, I'll be adding content and links as I ease out into the publishing world.

Spotty posting for the rest of the week as I plan to work, work, work. A first draft by Thanksgiving would be nice. By first of November, even nicer, as I want to participate in NaNoWriMo this year, but I don't want to use the current book.

Now, off to work.

Review: Blue Genes, by Christopher Lukas

2008-09-19T09:31:00.008-06:00

The story of Christopher Lukas and his brother, award-winning journalist J. Anthony Lukas, is a chronicle of mental health medicine’s evolution in the 20^th century. Their family is struck again and again by bipolar disorder, a disease not yet understood or properly treated until late in the century. Unfortunately, the repercussions from misdiagnosis and lack of proper treatment echo through the lives of these brothers with shattering immediacy, starting with the suicide of their mother when the boys were only eight and six years old. Through the years one after another family member succumbs to the disease, ending finally with the suicide of Tony, the story that begins the memoir. The tragedy is in the sheer magnitude of the toll it takes on the family, but Mr. Lukas tells it not only as a memorial to what the he and his brother went through, but as a testament to the fact that, despite it all, he survived.

After relating the account of his family’s origins beginning with his great-grandparents, Lukas chronicles the heartbreaking story of his mother’s death, and how the boys were immediately shipped off to boarding school with no explanation for their mother’s disappearance or chance to say good-bye. This forced delay of grieving was to influence and haunt both men throughout their lives, an added burden to their already confusing personal battles with depression and bipolar disorder. Sadly, in the end it proved a burden too heavy for Tony.

While interesting and thoroughly well-written, this book is a difficult read, mainly due to the pervasive sadness that permeates this family’s history. Mr. Lukas does an excellent job of conveying the struggle the boys underwent throughout their lives, but he pays scant attention to the good moments he has enjoyed through the years, flying by his wife and daughter’s impact on his health and well-being. Ultimately, Lukas triumphs in the story, but his victory seems almost Pyrrhic - a survivor alone, among the ashes.

Thought For the Day

2008-09-19T09:31:00.004-06:00

If you don't feel that you are possibly on the edge of humiliating yourself, of losing control of the whole thing, then probably what you are doing isn't very vital. If you don't feel like you are writing somewhat over your head, why do it? If you don't have some doubt of your authority to tell this story, then you are not trying to tell enough.
-John Irving

By God, I'm writing a masterpiece.

Review: Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine

2008-09-15T11:33:00.003-06:00

A few weeks ago I received a copy of Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine for review. To be honest it has taken me a while to get through it, simply because I have a huge backlog of other review projects sandwiched in between my own fiction work which is daily crying out for my attention. Over the weekend, however, I cloistered myself off in my bedroom and read the thing. The verdict? I'm glad I did.

The magazine itself reminds me of the kinds of magazines and comics I used to read as a kid - black and white pulp pages, no glossy illustrations, no shiny video game ads. This is a magazine that sticks to its business - and I really like and appreciate that about it. It's a fat little thing - 240 pages, but it's packed with really good stories from top-notch writers, along with a few review columns and non-fiction science articles.

My favorite story was probably Steven Utley's "Sleepless Years", a moving and unsettling take on immortality, but I also thoroughly enjoyed Albert E. Cowdrey's New Orleans-flavored "Inside Story" (the accents were spot-on). And, of course, there was Stephen King's "The New York Times at Special Bargain Rates." Personally I've always been of the opinion that the short story medium is where King shines, and this was no exception.

Talk lately in the sci-fi/fantasy world has circled round and round the issue of whether or not short fiction is dead as a medium. Detractors point to falling subscription rates, claiming that anthologies will be the only remaining market for stories. Maybe that will come to pass and maybe it won't, but I will say this - I enjoyed Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine, for its format as well as its content. It's certainly worth reading, and, in my opinion, that's worth enough.

Monday Morning and the Grind's Still Here

2008-09-15T09:05:00.003-06:00

Thankfully, Ike passed us by with no more than (what I consider) an interesting and beautiful weather day. (Rain, windy) Sadly, though, some to our south and west did not have such good fortune. My heart reaches out to those in Southeast Texas and even in extreme Southwest Louisiana. To give you an idea, today's Picture of the Day from Nasa shows what the storm looked like as it came ashore. Imagine that knocking at your door. Here are some photos of the terrible damage.

Woke up yesterday to learn that David Foster Wallace had committed suicide. I haven't read a lot of his work, but he was a Gen X writer, and therefore we shared a generational culture. He was considered somewhat of a genius, and was by pretty much any measure very successful. Two thoughts come to mind - I wonder first why he was so sad, to the point that taking himself out of the picture seemed like the only worthwhile solution. Second, it makes me think about the nature of genius and the mental burden it sometimes carries. It's a dangerous coin to hold, and even more dangerous to flip.

Wow. Looking back, this post doesn't seem very cheerful, does it? Maybe it's the weather that's put me in this mood. (Heavy, low, grey clouds) Seems to help in the way of creativity though, so maybe I'll have a good writing day. We'll see.

Progress And Other Tidbits

2008-09-11T06:51:00.003-06:00

1,003 words yesterday on "Passing" a new science fiction short story I started right before Gustav came to town. Kind of stuck at this point - I know what I want to say, but I'm not sure how to say it. Call it a big, fat, steaming plot hole. Yes, that sounds about right. Also, I'm trying to add in some humor, but funnies are funny things - they are by nature sort of off-the-cuff, and it's hard to craft them - takes away some of the spontaneity. Also, after reading something four million times in the editing process you start to wonder if it was ever funny in the first place. Ah, well. We'll see.

On a happy note, the day after we got power again I received an email from Claire at Twisted Tongue Magazine saying she wants to publish both my poem "Wicked" and my short story "What Goes Around." My first acceptance! Needless to say, I am totally thrilled. Lends some satisfaction, not to mention validation, to my efforts. Hope that I am improving as a writer, enough so that one day I'll actually be able to make a living at this.

Weather is nice outside - cloudy and cool, which, if you know anything about Louisiana, means A LOT this time of year. I plan to enjoy it too, as today I am eschewing the mines for a bit in order to head over to my local Friends of the Library semi-annual book sale, something that has become, for me, a twice yearly orgy of bargains and book finds. Totally psyched. Will head back home afterwards to work on THE NOVEL.

A Few Cool Links

2008-09-09T09:23:00.002-06:00

I've run across this morning. Who knows, I might make this a regular feature -

A short history of Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia. A nineteenth century reform experiment with good intentions that went very, very wrong. I've always believed that the best way to reform convicts is to drive them mad!

The lost art of gentlemen's calling cards. Or maybe not so lost, as it turns out. I like this idea.

From the New York Review of Books, "A Summer of Madness" - Dr. Oliver Sacks (of Awakening fame) reviews an account of a man dealing with is daughter's mental illness.

Review: The Grift, by Debra Ginsberg

2008-09-08T12:44:00.001-06:00

The victim of childhood abuse and neglect, Marina Marks developed the skills that many children in such circumstances acquire – the ability to read people with a survivor’s instantaneous accuracy. Following a scheme set in motion by her drug addicted mother and an eerie encounter with an old woman who claims she truly has the second sight, the little girl becomes a psychic, a career she holds on to as an adult as the novel opens. After starting a new life in California, however, events unfold to completely change her idea of who and what she is.

As the cover art suggests, the word grift is only one letter away from gift, and this is the fine line Marina walks throughout the novel. From the beginning she doesn’t see herself as a con artist, merely a “counselor” of sorts who reads people instead of fortunes. She carries a sense of mild disdain for her clients, a feeling which makes it easier to relieve them of their money. Her self-definition fails, however, once she starts actually seeing ghosts and foretelling the future with frightening accuracy. In the end, Marina must redefine her notions of reality and of herself, a transformation that is not without consequences.

The Grift is a well-written story. The plot is original, the characters are engaging, and the author does an admirable job of handling a wide variety of viewpoints with accuracy and skill. The protagonist acts in ways we would expect of one who suddenly finds the world changed, seemingly overnight. It’s a touch that lends credibility to her character and interest for the reader. A good read for a rainy day.

The Arrival of Gustav

2008-09-01T08:57:00.001-06:00

Gustav is coming ashore and so far we are faring well. Wind gusts 20 - 25mph so far, and the first hard rain squall just arrived a few minutes ago. We have power for the moment, but I'm not sure how much longer that will last. I'll try to post again today with an update. Hope everyone is safe.

A Publishing Glossary

2008-08-22T07:28:00.002-06:00

If you're like me, and new to publishing, the terms that get thrown around when you are researching how to prepare various manuscripts for publishing might seem confusing. Via Bookends, here is a good basic list of what the hell everyone is talking about:

I’ve had a request from a client to put together a publishing dictionary of sorts, an explanation of publishing words and phrases that you hear or see all the time but aren’t always sure of the meaning. I’m not going to go into great details on the how and why of these words, simply a what. In addition to the words that were requested I’ve included a few of my own that I think sometimes cause confusion.

AAR: The Association of Authors’ Representatives is an organization of literary and dramatic agents that sets certain guidelines and standards that professional and reputable agents must abide by. It is really the only organization for literary agents of its kind.

Advance: The amount the publisher pays up front to an author before the book is published. The advance is an advance on all future earnings.

ARCS: Advance Review Copies. Not the final book, these are advance and unfinalized copies of the book that are sent to reviewers.

Auction: During the sale of a manuscript to publishers sometimes, oftentimes if you’re lucky, you’ll have an auction. Not unlike an Ebay auction, this is when multiple publishers bid on your book and ultimately, the last man standing wins (that’s the one who offers the most lucrative deal).

BEA: BookExpo America is the largest book rights fair in the United States. This is where publishers from all over the world gather to share rights information, sell book rights, and flaunt their new, upcoming titles.

Cover Letter: This is the letter that should accompany any material you send to an agent or an editor. A cover letter should remind the agent that the material has been requested, where you met if you’ve met, and of course the same information that is in your query letter—title, genre, a short yet enticing blurb of your book, and bio information if you have any.

Full: A full manuscript

Genre: The classification of books. Examples of genre in fiction include mystery, romance, science fiction, fantasy, nonfiction, and in nonfiction you might see business, health, parenting, pets, art, architecture.

Hardcover: A book printed with a hard cover.

Imprint: The name within the publishing house that the book is published under. Usually done as a way to market certain types of books. For example, Aphrodisia is an imprint of Kensington. It is still a Kensington book, but by publishing under Aphrodisia you are branding the book as erotic romance.

Literary Agent: A literary agent works on behalf of the author to sell her book and negotiate with publishers. A literary agent also helps with career planning and development and sometimes editing and marketing.

Marketing: Marketing is advertising that is paid for, including ads in magazines, display units in stores, and things like postcards or posters.

Mass Market: Also called “rack size,” these are paperback books originally designed to fit in rotating book racks in non-bookstore outlets (like grocery stores and drugstores). Mass market paperbacks are roughly 4” x 7” in size.

North American Rights: These are the type of rights licensed to the publisher, allowing the publisher only to handle and represent book rights in North America. This means that the author and the author’s agent are responsible for selling/licensing rights anywhere outside of North America (and usually a designated set of territories).

Preempt: When a publisher makes an advance and royalty offer high enough to take the book off the auction table. In other words, a publisher offers enough money that the author and agent agree that they will sell the book without asking for bids from other publishers.

Proofs/Page proofs: This is the last stage of editing that a book goes through. They are a copy of the designed pages, and the author is given one last chance to review the typesetter's “proofs” to check for typos or other small errors. Proofs are also what are used to make review copies for reviewers and sometimes rights sales.

Proposal/Partial: A proposal or a partial is frequently what an agent will ask for when taking a book under consideration. For fiction and narrative nonfiction a proposal usually includes a cover letter, a designated number of chapters from the book, and a synopsis. For non-narrative nonfiction a proposal usually contains an extended author bio, an overview of the book, an expanded table of contents, detailed marketing and competitive information, and of course sample writing material (usually a chapter or two).

Publicity: Advertising that is free. Publicity includes magazine and newspaper articles, radio and television interviews, and of course MySpace and other networking Web sites.

Query: A one-page letter sent to agents or editors in an attempt to attain representation. A query letter should include all of the author’s contact information—name, address, phone, email, and Web site—as well as the title of the book, genre, author bio if applicable, and a short, enticing blurb of the book.

Royalties: The percentage of the sales (monetary) an author receives for each copy of the book sold.

Sell-Through: This is the most important number in publishing. It’s the percentage of books shipped that have actually sold. For example, if your publisher shipped 100,000 books (great number!) but only sold 40,000, your sell-through is 40%. Not so great. However, if your publisher shipped 50,000 books, and sold 40,000, your sell-through would be 80%. A fantastic number.

Slush/Slush Pile: Any material sent to an agent or an editor that has not been requested.

Synopsis: A detailed, multipage description of the book that includes all major plot points as well as the conclusion.

Trade: To make it easy, trade is the shortened name for trade paperback books and is basically any size that is not mass market. Typically though they run larger than a mass market edition.

Vanity Press: A publisher that publishes the author’s work at the author’s expense (not a recommended way to seek publication by most agents or editors).

World Rights: When World Rights are sold/licensed to the publisher the publisher has the ability to represent the book on the author’s behalf and sell foreign translation rights anywhere in the world. Keep in mind that the author does get a piece of the pie no matter where the book is published.

I found it helpful even though I've been doing this at least long enough to know most of them. Good to avoid sounding like an idiot when approaching potential editors or agents.

Review: When We Were Romans, by Matthew Kneale

2008-08-18T08:19:00.002-06:00

For anyone who grew up in a home broken by divorce, Matthew Kneale’s WHEN WE WERE ROMANS will strike a cord. Narrated by nine-year-old Lawrence, the book captures perfectly the confusion, mixed loyalties, and anxieties felt by children whose world has been upended by divorce. Kneale has constructed a powerful story here, one that not only reminds us what it was like to be young, but also how the actions of adults can have life-long consequences for our children.

After a difficult break-up, Lawrence’s mother decides to leave their home in England and move to Rome, where she lived happily as a young woman. Along with his little sister Jemima and his beloved hamster Hermann, Lawrence reshapes his life, keeping himself entertained with stories of famous Popes and Emperors while trying to cope with the reality of a new people, a new country, and an unfamiliar language, only to find in the end that, once again, nothing in his life was what it seemed.

Kneale does an astounding job of capturing not only the speech, but the logic and thought processes of a child. Throughout the book Lawrence applies his limited little-boy experiences and knowledge of the world to each changing circumstance, sometimes with funny results, sometimes with tragic. In each case, however, we see behind the curtain of his thoughts and how they affect and inform his actions.

Matthew Kneale has written a book that makes you laugh and cry in equal measure, taking you into a world where the adults around you hold all the keys and have all the power. That Lawrence nevertheless survives his experiences is a testament to the resilience of all children. It’s a lesson we all should learn.

The Daily Grind

2008-08-14T15:41:00.002-06:00

1000 more words on the Poe story today. Draft two is finished, with what I hope is a more satisfying ending. Will have to pass it by the LOML tonight to see what he thinks, but I do feel much better about the piece. Barring any major problems, I plan to push it out of the next tomorrow along with a couple of other stories that have come back home without money. Get out there and earn your keep!

Moving on to chapter 3 of the novel. Everything is still very nebulous at this point, and that scares me. Also fending off the fears - what if I suck? What if I don't suck but no one cares anyway? What if I can't sell it? I just try to keep remembering what Gaiman said - write the next thing.

So, off I go.

A Few Contests

2008-08-12T07:41:00.003-06:00

For free books (who can resist?) that I've come across in my web-trolling. Check them out:

A signed copy of WHITE NIGHT by Jim Butcher from Blood of the Muse

A signed copy of NIGHTWALKER by Jocelynn Drake from Amberkatze's Book Blog

A signed copy of SCHOOLED by Anisha Lakhani from Planet Books

Back to Work

2008-08-09T08:24:00.002-06:00

Yesterday my children went back to school, which officially marked the beginning of back to work for me. I've gotten a couple of stories finished over the summer, but it's very hard to get much done with munchkins to take care of. In any case, I'll miss them, but I value the chance to get back to more significant daily word counts.

So, let's see, first day accomplishments: Sent off a poem of mine, "Wicked" to Twisted Tongue magazine; finished a first draft of my Poe story, "Nevermore", and got some work done editing and planning out THE NOVEL. Not bad. Planning more delicious writing time this weekend, as it is only the LOML and myself around.

Was also thinking yesterday about how happy I am to be able to do the thing I love most in the world - write. I've been in so many jobs that required a daily pep talk just to get out of bed this morning. I LOVE writing. Just for the sheer joy of it. Ideas swirl and dance in my head constantly, and I love having the opportunity to just sit down and let the characters tell me their tales. I am so happy to have finally figured out what I was put on this earth to do. I am unbelieveably lucky. And don't I know it.

Now, if I could only get paid for it.

Before I go - an interesting link. One of my favorite authors, in fact I would consider him the greatest author of the 20th century (argue with me if you will), Kurt Vonnegut with an article on writing style. He lays out a few rules. Good advice, though.