Marie Brennan's Blog, page 145

The Littlest Shodan-ho Enters the Inner Circle

I started up with karate again last week: my first time back since the seminar in Okinawa. As with the previous surgery, I’m not up to full speed, but even just getting to move around is a good thing.

It also paid an unexpected dividend. As shodan-ho — a term which means “probationary black belt” — I’m on the border between “black belt” and “not a black belt,” neither fish nor fowl. I was the only shodan-ho at the seminar (most of the other dojo in our organization apparently don’t use that ranking), so when Shihan said “black belts do X; lower belts do Y,” I had to ask which group I ought to go with. He initially sent me down with the lower belts, but then changed his mind and moved me to the other group, which is how I ended up learning kusanku way earlier than I expected to.

At home, my liminal state puts me in an ambiguous position where classes are concerned. I had told myself I wouldn’t ask until I was out of the ankle brace and more or less recovered . . . but as it turns out, I didn’t have to. On Monday, I was informed that I am now permitted to attend the Thursday class — the black belt class.

Sadly, I won’t be able to make it this week, because I already have plans for Thursday night. But it’s official! I count as a black belt! It really does feel momentous, even though I’ve been to the Thursday class during the vacation periods where it’s open to all belts, so I know it isn’t actually anything special. And I’m glad that it happened this way, with Shihan telling me, rather than me asking. There’s an element of etiquette to how these things get handled; me being patient and not pushing is the way it’s supposed to go.

Presuming I can avoid any other surgeries or suchlike, I should be able to test for the next degree of shodan-ho at the beginning of December. Then it’s sixty classes (minimum) to becoming a Real True Black Belt, with no ambiguity. Five or six months, but probably longer given that there are holidays and I miss classes and so forth. But it is entirely plausible that I’ll be shodan before 2015 is out.

I’m looking forward to it.

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A Year in Pictures – Amber Fish

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I actually can’t say for certain that these fish and discs are carved out of amber — they’re awfully white. But they were in the Amber Museum in Gdańsk, and that’s good enough for me!

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A Year in Pictures – Tower Bridge Through the Trees

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While my husband and I were visiting the Tower of London, I found there’s a spot along the wall that gives you this glimpse of Tower Bridge through the trees. And at that time of day, I could channel my inner J. J. Abrams quite satisfyingly.

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A Year in Pictures – Dome of the Rock

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I recently had all my print photos from old trips scanned, and then tackled the (rather large) task of editing them all. Most are not that great; they are, by their nature, the pictures I took when I was a less experienced photographer, with predictably mediocre results. But it’s a little fascinating to watch my skill develop as I learned, by trial and error, the basic rules of composition.

This is one of my better efforts, and an early example of my tendency to try and get symmetrical shots of large architectural features. It is, of course, the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem.

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“The next day Mr Earbrass is conscious but very little more”

The problem with being in physical therapy is that even when I’ve declared a Day Off From Everything, I still have to do that.

I mean, I could skip it. But since my happiness is better served by recovering as quickly and thoroughly as possible, I’m still going to put myself through my paces. Other than that, however, I intend to spend today having lunch with a friend and reading on the couch and maybe going out to celebrate a bit when my husband gets home from work. Also on the celebratory list: last night I slept without a brace on my ankle, for the first time since the surgery. It was an experiment, to see if it would complain at me when I turned over or whacked it against my other leg — and it did, a little, but not enough to counterbalance the sheer joy of being able to fully relax. I have hopes this will help with the problem where the tendons and muscles that kept cramping while I was in the boot are actually giving me more pain than the bit that got surgeryified.

Who knows. Maybe I’ll work on “The Unquiet Grave” tonight. Because it isn’t work if I decide to do it of my own free will, right?

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A Year in Pictures – Flamingoes of Light

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This is the last of my shots from the Chinese lantern festival in Dallas, and gives a good sense of what the whole exhibit was like. I took this one very nearly at the end, when I was dead tired (and fighting a cold) — but it was worth the effort to get the reflection in the mottled surface of the lake.

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Number sixteen

It’s a short draft, and I already know what needs to be added in, both to fill it out to a better length and to mend a kind of gaping lack in the story. But that is what revision is for.

Right now, at 84,223 words, Chains and Memory is finished.

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The #3Things story

Earlier today, I posted the #3Things story to Twitter. Here, in its random glory, is the whole thing:

Buffeted by storm winds, the little lost hummingbird whirled and spun through the air, incapable of even falling. #3Things (1/14)

Her ordeal ended when the winds blew her into a screen of leaves. There she stayed until the storm ended & she fell down. #3Things (2/14)

Where am I? she thought (but did not say — hummingbird tongues are not good for speaking with). #3Things (3/14)

“Why, you are on an aspidochelone.” #3Things (4/14)

The hummingbird looked around to see who had spoken. She saw nothing except a lethal-looking spiky thing on the ground. #3Things (5/14)

“Yes,” I spoke,” the object said. It communicated by means of a revoltingly strong, nauseating odor. #3Things (6/14)

What’s that? the hummingbird wondered. She didn’t know whether hummingbirds could vomit, but she thought she might find out #3Things (7/14)

“I am a durian — the King of Fruits,” the spiky thing said proudly, emitting a wave of raw-sewage smell. #3Things (8/14)

The hummingbird wished desperately for some nectar to clear her palate and wondered what an aspidochelone was. #3Things (9/14)

“It’s a huge creature mistaken for an island because of vegetation,” the durian said. (It had looked this up on Wikipedia.) #3Things (10/14)

“You’ll never return to your eggs or your favorite flower. The aspidochelone is swimming out to sea with us atop its back.” #3Things (11/14)

The hummingbird leapt into the air, desperate to fly home before it was too late, but the durian shot her with its spikes. #3Things (12/14)

These were tipped with sleeping poison, and so the hummingbird fell to the ground once more, dazed and weak. #3Things (13/14)

“I may be the King of Fruits,” the durian said, “but I am a mere servant of this island, and its flowers need pollination.” #3Things (14/14)

***

Many thanks to @lrushlau for the hummingbird, @KarenMuses for the aspidochelone, and @charlesatan for the sentient durian! #3Things

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It’s reeeeeeeeeeeeal!

Those arrived last night, but I didn’t get a chance to share until today. I know these are printed from the text we had after copy-edits before page proofs, so it’s irrelevant that I just sent the proofs back to my editor a few days ago . . . but it feels like magic. Last pass through the text, and poof! Look! It’s a book!

Stay tuned for me to come up with a clever idea how you can enter to win a copy . . . .

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A Year in Pictures – Westminster Ivy

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This — which we found in the cloister of Westminster Abbey — is probably the most gorgeous ivy I have ever seen in my life.

That is all.

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