Steven J. Anderson's Blog, page 2
April 11, 2020
This Planet Has Chocolate
https://rucomm352.wixsite.com/theropo...
Living with someone whose body has betrayed them is not an easy gig. I know that today is her best day. There’s no coming back from PLS, Primary Lateral Sclerosis. Her body will be a little weaker tomorrow. Not enough to notice, but weaker. And the days add up.
I notice the changes because of the routines I live by. That’s how I cope. I set a routine. Up at about the same time each day, help her get ready, lunch with the same options I know she likes. Dinner and bedtime become rituals. The days are easy. I make her do the things she can do, although it’s hard to watch her struggle. I want to do them for her, but that would make it easier for me, not her.
Over time, I do more and she does less. I modify the routine. I brushed her hair today. I didn’t three months ago. It’s OK. It’s not the act of doing it that I mind, it’s the knowing that another piece of her is gone.
Nine years ago we did a road trip. Two late autumn weeks lived doing a lap of the Western states. South from Colorado, turn right at Albuquerque, go west until you hit ocean and then up the coast all the way to Seattle. Look at the Big Sky across Montana, hurry through snow squalls in Wyoming, and back home. I knew it would be our last major road trip. It was perfect.
I had the routine down, the bags, wheelchair, canes, and supplies Tetris-ed into the trunk. I knew what I needed to do and what she could do. She laughed as her wheelchair bumped along the trails between giant redwoods and giggled as we did four-wheel drifts on the wet foggy paths at Mount St. Helens. She cried seeing where Custer had met his destiny.
I’ve fallen deeper into routine since then. Life has become more constrained with each day’s losses. I can still make her laugh, though, so I do it every day. It’s a good routine to live by and one that I will never change.
Living with someone whose body has betrayed them is not an easy gig. I know that today is her best day. There’s no coming back from PLS, Primary Lateral Sclerosis. Her body will be a little weaker tomorrow. Not enough to notice, but weaker. And the days add up.
I notice the changes because of the routines I live by. That’s how I cope. I set a routine. Up at about the same time each day, help her get ready, lunch with the same options I know she likes. Dinner and bedtime become rituals. The days are easy. I make her do the things she can do, although it’s hard to watch her struggle. I want to do them for her, but that would make it easier for me, not her.
Over time, I do more and she does less. I modify the routine. I brushed her hair today. I didn’t three months ago. It’s OK. It’s not the act of doing it that I mind, it’s the knowing that another piece of her is gone.
Nine years ago we did a road trip. Two late autumn weeks lived doing a lap of the Western states. South from Colorado, turn right at Albuquerque, go west until you hit ocean and then up the coast all the way to Seattle. Look at the Big Sky across Montana, hurry through snow squalls in Wyoming, and back home. I knew it would be our last major road trip. It was perfect.
I had the routine down, the bags, wheelchair, canes, and supplies Tetris-ed into the trunk. I knew what I needed to do and what she could do. She laughed as her wheelchair bumped along the trails between giant redwoods and giggled as we did four-wheel drifts on the wet foggy paths at Mount St. Helens. She cried seeing where Custer had met his destiny.
I’ve fallen deeper into routine since then. Life has become more constrained with each day’s losses. I can still make her laugh, though, so I do it every day. It’s a good routine to live by and one that I will never change.
A Husband
https://rucomm352.wixsite.com/theropo...
This is my wife. She was 14 when this picture was taken, and I wouldn’t meet her for another four years. I helped her take a shower today. It’s not easy. I have to support her head while I wash her and I need to have one hand ready in case she starts to topple from the shower chair onto the floor. It’s hard on her, harder than it is for me. Twice in the past 18 months she’s faded to near unconsciousness during her shower. Today was a good day and nothing bad happened. She joked with me through most of the process and we made it back to the couch without incident.
This is what life is like as a primary care giver. That’s what I’ve been told I am. I don’t often think of myself in that way. I’m not a primary care giver. I’m a husband. My wife’s body betrayed her and I’ve had to pick up some of what it used to be able to do. It’s not hard and I’m not looking for help or sympathy. It’s life. You play the hand you’re dealt. Anything else is cheating.
Primary Lateral Sclerosis. That was the diagnoses fifteen years ago. She was able to walk back then if I gave her an arm to lean on. We walked slowly, an irritant to me since I walk fast. She was always faster. She climbed mountains in Colorado and raced with me on sandy California beaches.
I don’t know what the end game will feel like. I know what it will be. But I don’t speak of it.
She’s napping on the couch this evening, a Hallmark romance playing as background noise. I’ll sit with her tonight and watch an old movie we’ve seen before. If it’s sad, I’ll hand her a tissue and she’ll laugh at herself for having tears in her eyes.
This is my wife. She was 14 when this picture was taken, and I wouldn’t meet her for another four years. I helped her take a shower today. It’s not easy. I have to support her head while I wash her and I need to have one hand ready in case she starts to topple from the shower chair onto the floor. It’s hard on her, harder than it is for me. Twice in the past 18 months she’s faded to near unconsciousness during her shower. Today was a good day and nothing bad happened. She joked with me through most of the process and we made it back to the couch without incident.
This is what life is like as a primary care giver. That’s what I’ve been told I am. I don’t often think of myself in that way. I’m not a primary care giver. I’m a husband. My wife’s body betrayed her and I’ve had to pick up some of what it used to be able to do. It’s not hard and I’m not looking for help or sympathy. It’s life. You play the hand you’re dealt. Anything else is cheating.
Primary Lateral Sclerosis. That was the diagnoses fifteen years ago. She was able to walk back then if I gave her an arm to lean on. We walked slowly, an irritant to me since I walk fast. She was always faster. She climbed mountains in Colorado and raced with me on sandy California beaches.
I don’t know what the end game will feel like. I know what it will be. But I don’t speak of it.
She’s napping on the couch this evening, a Hallmark romance playing as background noise. I’ll sit with her tonight and watch an old movie we’ve seen before. If it’s sad, I’ll hand her a tissue and she’ll laugh at herself for having tears in her eyes.
January 26, 2020
Status Report, Jan 2020
Book 4, Winged Lion, is edited and passing through the beta readers. Cover art has been ordered. Much work still to be done before release, but it’s getting close!
Set one year after the end of Wandering Storm, Winged Lion follows the adventures of a new cast of characters struggling to survive the Reunification Wars.
The audio book version of Wandering Soul should be ready by late February. Amazing voice for Ms. Mala Dusa Holloman is being provided by Stephanie Willing (https://www.voices.com/actors/stephan...).
Set one year after the end of Wandering Storm, Winged Lion follows the adventures of a new cast of characters struggling to survive the Reunification Wars.
The audio book version of Wandering Soul should be ready by late February. Amazing voice for Ms. Mala Dusa Holloman is being provided by Stephanie Willing (https://www.voices.com/actors/stephan...).
December 26, 2019
Sleep Well, Little Mouse
After shutting down my laptop for the evening, I flipped the wireless mouse over and slid the power switch to off.
Why bother, my son asked. It won’t pull much power just sitting on the table.
Not much power is still some, I told him. I want to save the batteries.
It was a lie, of course. The mouse and the laptop had been carrying on a silent conversation for hours, cursor left and right, up and down, click and double-click. The mouse was abandoned as soon as the laptop went to sleep, no one to hear his messages. If I left it on, it would be asking Are you there? Are you there? all though the night. It would wait for a handshake that can never come, at least not until I bring the laptop back to life in the morning. I couldn’t live with myself if I did that, so I slid the switch to show red, the color of mouse sleep.
Sleep well, companions. Tomorrow will come soon enough.
Why bother, my son asked. It won’t pull much power just sitting on the table.
Not much power is still some, I told him. I want to save the batteries.
It was a lie, of course. The mouse and the laptop had been carrying on a silent conversation for hours, cursor left and right, up and down, click and double-click. The mouse was abandoned as soon as the laptop went to sleep, no one to hear his messages. If I left it on, it would be asking Are you there? Are you there? all though the night. It would wait for a handshake that can never come, at least not until I bring the laptop back to life in the morning. I couldn’t live with myself if I did that, so I slid the switch to show red, the color of mouse sleep.
Sleep well, companions. Tomorrow will come soon enough.
December 16, 2019
Pushing Through to the End
People sometimes ask where I get ideas for what I write. This post is not about that. This is about where I go when the plot does not track smoothly to where my outline says it should. When I need to find my way back out of the trap my characters have created (Them, not me), a walk along the Front Range Trail usually helps. Today was perfect. Only a couple of other people to say hello to as we passed. Snow and solitude, and now I know what needs to come next.
November 29, 2019
Yipie ki ya! Die Hard for Christmas
“There are two kinds of people in the world. Those that think Die Hard is a Christmas movie and those who are wrong.”
I was watching It’s a Wonderful Life when she said it. I glanced up at her from my eggnog. “People die in Die Hard. Just because it takes place at Christmas, doesn’t mean it’s about Christmas.”
“Sure it does.” She shifted on the couch, leaning back and putting her feet in my lap expecting me to rub them.
I started with her toes. “Tell me what’s Christmas-y about it.”
“It’s about a hero, a savior, that comes from somewhere else, conquers death to set his people free, and saves everyone. Bruce Willis, Redeemer King.”
I moved to the balls of her feet. “A Redeemer king who says, yipie ki ya, mother f*****?”
“Why not? What do think Jesus was really saying when he overturned the tables of the money changers? He had editors writing it down. And you know editors. They cleaned it all up and made it boring.”
“You know, I think you’re right. Die Hard is the greatest Christmas movie ever.”
I was watching It’s a Wonderful Life when she said it. I glanced up at her from my eggnog. “People die in Die Hard. Just because it takes place at Christmas, doesn’t mean it’s about Christmas.”
“Sure it does.” She shifted on the couch, leaning back and putting her feet in my lap expecting me to rub them.
I started with her toes. “Tell me what’s Christmas-y about it.”
“It’s about a hero, a savior, that comes from somewhere else, conquers death to set his people free, and saves everyone. Bruce Willis, Redeemer King.”
I moved to the balls of her feet. “A Redeemer king who says, yipie ki ya, mother f*****?”
“Why not? What do think Jesus was really saying when he overturned the tables of the money changers? He had editors writing it down. And you know editors. They cleaned it all up and made it boring.”
“You know, I think you’re right. Die Hard is the greatest Christmas movie ever.”
September 23, 2019
Wandering Star Easter Egg List
When I get stuck for names, Google and Wiki are my friends. This is the origin of several of the names used in Wandering Star, as well as historical and other obscure references.
Chapter 1
Captain Von Muller is named after the captain of the SMS Emden a German WW1 cruiser and commerce raider
Chapter 2
Omar Gizbar’s last name is the Hebrew word meaning 'treasurer'
Chapter 3
The Colin Gray Conference Room is named for Colin Gray, top New Zealand fighter ace of the Second World War
Their Finest Hour pub is a reference to Churchill’s speech about the Battle of Brittan
The Christie-Cleek café at the Palma Sola University is named for Andrew Christie, Scottish cannibal circa 1340 known as Christie-Cleek or Christie of the Cleek. It’s also a nod to the Alfred E. Packer grill at the University of Colorado, named for a famed cannibal
The pilot of the small seaplane is named Howard in honor of Howard Hughes, aviation pioneer
Chapter 5
What good will it do for you to save their souls if they lose their lives? From Matthew 16:26
The blue six-legged lizards, lacerti hyacinthi are a reference to the classic short story Arena by Fredric Brown
Chapter 7
Behold, a marvel in the darkness is a reference to Star Trek episode 1.14, Balance of Terror
Chapter 9
Hetman is a political title from Central and Eastern Europe
The name Buna means 'uprising' in Serbo-Croatian
Chapter 10
Tarakana means cockroach in Georgian
The origin of the name Cleavus is from the TV series Gunsmoke, episode 16.21. An old friend of Festus, Cleavus is described as having been dogged by poverty and hard luck all his life
The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few’, Luke 10:2
Chapter 13
Captain Adriensoon is named after Michiel Adriaenszoon de Ruyter, the most famous and one of the most skilled admirals in history, most famous for his role in the Anglo-Dutch Wars of the 17th century
As far as the east is from the west, Psalm 103:12
Chapter 14
I pray that the yoke ahead for you is easy and the burden light, from Matthew 11:30
Chapter 15
…determined to get knit together, from Psalm 139:13
Cuza is named after Alexander John Cuza; 20 March 1820 – 15 May 1873), Prince of Moldavia, Prince of Wallachia, and later Domnitor (Ruler) of the Romanian Principalities. He was a prominent figure of the Revolution of 1848 in Moldavia
Chapter 17
Mala Dusa means little soul in Croatian
Chapter 18
Homo Viator is the title of a book by Gabriel Marcel, often translated as Man on the Way. For life is a journey, an adventure that we are always a part of. We do not choose to be on the way, it is our existential situation. We are not at home, we are on the way home.
Rest here under the shade of the trees, the final words of Stonewall Jackson, “Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees.”
Chapter 1
Captain Von Muller is named after the captain of the SMS Emden a German WW1 cruiser and commerce raider
Chapter 2
Omar Gizbar’s last name is the Hebrew word meaning 'treasurer'
Chapter 3
The Colin Gray Conference Room is named for Colin Gray, top New Zealand fighter ace of the Second World War
Their Finest Hour pub is a reference to Churchill’s speech about the Battle of Brittan
The Christie-Cleek café at the Palma Sola University is named for Andrew Christie, Scottish cannibal circa 1340 known as Christie-Cleek or Christie of the Cleek. It’s also a nod to the Alfred E. Packer grill at the University of Colorado, named for a famed cannibal
The pilot of the small seaplane is named Howard in honor of Howard Hughes, aviation pioneer
Chapter 5
What good will it do for you to save their souls if they lose their lives? From Matthew 16:26
The blue six-legged lizards, lacerti hyacinthi are a reference to the classic short story Arena by Fredric Brown
Chapter 7
Behold, a marvel in the darkness is a reference to Star Trek episode 1.14, Balance of Terror
Chapter 9
Hetman is a political title from Central and Eastern Europe
The name Buna means 'uprising' in Serbo-Croatian
Chapter 10
Tarakana means cockroach in Georgian
The origin of the name Cleavus is from the TV series Gunsmoke, episode 16.21. An old friend of Festus, Cleavus is described as having been dogged by poverty and hard luck all his life
The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few’, Luke 10:2
Chapter 13
Captain Adriensoon is named after Michiel Adriaenszoon de Ruyter, the most famous and one of the most skilled admirals in history, most famous for his role in the Anglo-Dutch Wars of the 17th century
As far as the east is from the west, Psalm 103:12
Chapter 14
I pray that the yoke ahead for you is easy and the burden light, from Matthew 11:30
Chapter 15
…determined to get knit together, from Psalm 139:13
Cuza is named after Alexander John Cuza; 20 March 1820 – 15 May 1873), Prince of Moldavia, Prince of Wallachia, and later Domnitor (Ruler) of the Romanian Principalities. He was a prominent figure of the Revolution of 1848 in Moldavia
Chapter 17
Mala Dusa means little soul in Croatian
Chapter 18
Homo Viator is the title of a book by Gabriel Marcel, often translated as Man on the Way. For life is a journey, an adventure that we are always a part of. We do not choose to be on the way, it is our existential situation. We are not at home, we are on the way home.
Rest here under the shade of the trees, the final words of Stonewall Jackson, “Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees.”
September 21, 2019
The Winged Lion of Venice
Summers are not meant for writing. I have a yard that needs tending, a house that needs mending, and mountain trails that must be explored. August was a dead loss with three family medical emergencies requiring days spent sitting bedside in hospitals. All of this is my way of explaining the slow progress made on my fourth book, Winged Lion. But progress has been made (66k words with about 30k more to write), and Autumn is upon us with the promise of many good writing days ahead.
Winged Lion is the story of Captain Thomas Benson of the Trade Guild of Venice, skipper of the Gattino Alato, a small towboat pushing cargo between Union worlds in a time of civil war and separatist privateers. Here’s a small sample from the first chapter:
***
Schiava started screaming his name.
“Captain Benson! Unknown craft in our path ahead. They have not replied to my challenge and they’re spinning!”
“Spin up. And tell Ms. Vendramin she damn well better have number eight lashed tight by now or we’ll tear apart. Where the hell is our escort? You should be able to sense them by now.”
“Yes, sir, but I cannot. Perhaps it is because they have been delayed… or it could be because we transited the Chéng Nuò Deep Space Hole early.”
“We’re already through the DSH?” A shiver chased down his spine. “When?”
“04:06 this morning. We are ahead of schedule and I’ve already notified the docks at New Palisade of the change in our arrival time.”
“Encrypted?” he asked, not that it mattered anymore.
“Of course, sir. How else?” She sounded offended he would think her that careless.
“Three hours early. Explain it to me. We’ve been underway three weeks and you’re only telling me now?”
The AI sighed. “Mr. Beauvais, Simon, not his little brother, was first. He asked if I could nudge thrust up a percent on account of a girl he knows on New Palisade. It was important for him to meet with her as soon as possible. Then his brother, Mr. Tekanatoken Beauvais, asked the same thing, so I added another percent in the name of his friend, Delilah. Engineer Tulisan bumped me a percent and so did First Officer Vendramin.”
She lowered her voice as though telling him a secret he didn’t already know. “I think they have a date planned at the Bab al-Ahmar. And then you added two percent for–”
“I know what I did.”
“–Elsie Campbell,” Schiava finished anyway.
First Officer Gabriela Vendramin pushed past the door onto the bridge while it was still sliding open, her face flushed from running the three hundred meters from container eight. Her shoulder-length brown hair had come loose from where she’d tied it back, and she shoved it away from her eyes. “We snapped two fiber lashings, but it’s squared away now, sir. Sorry, I’m late for watch changeover.” Her eyes drifted to the red flashes on the main display panel covering one wall of the bridge. “What’s happened? Is that…?”
“Fast Attack Craft,” he confirmed. “Cutting us off.”
She stepped in front of him and touched it, fingers sparkling in the coherent light. “Already spinning, ready to strike. How long?” Her voice had gone soft, barely above a whisper as she looked at her probable death.
Winged Lion is the story of Captain Thomas Benson of the Trade Guild of Venice, skipper of the Gattino Alato, a small towboat pushing cargo between Union worlds in a time of civil war and separatist privateers. Here’s a small sample from the first chapter:
***
Schiava started screaming his name.
“Captain Benson! Unknown craft in our path ahead. They have not replied to my challenge and they’re spinning!”
“Spin up. And tell Ms. Vendramin she damn well better have number eight lashed tight by now or we’ll tear apart. Where the hell is our escort? You should be able to sense them by now.”
“Yes, sir, but I cannot. Perhaps it is because they have been delayed… or it could be because we transited the Chéng Nuò Deep Space Hole early.”
“We’re already through the DSH?” A shiver chased down his spine. “When?”
“04:06 this morning. We are ahead of schedule and I’ve already notified the docks at New Palisade of the change in our arrival time.”
“Encrypted?” he asked, not that it mattered anymore.
“Of course, sir. How else?” She sounded offended he would think her that careless.
“Three hours early. Explain it to me. We’ve been underway three weeks and you’re only telling me now?”
The AI sighed. “Mr. Beauvais, Simon, not his little brother, was first. He asked if I could nudge thrust up a percent on account of a girl he knows on New Palisade. It was important for him to meet with her as soon as possible. Then his brother, Mr. Tekanatoken Beauvais, asked the same thing, so I added another percent in the name of his friend, Delilah. Engineer Tulisan bumped me a percent and so did First Officer Vendramin.”
She lowered her voice as though telling him a secret he didn’t already know. “I think they have a date planned at the Bab al-Ahmar. And then you added two percent for–”
“I know what I did.”
“–Elsie Campbell,” Schiava finished anyway.
First Officer Gabriela Vendramin pushed past the door onto the bridge while it was still sliding open, her face flushed from running the three hundred meters from container eight. Her shoulder-length brown hair had come loose from where she’d tied it back, and she shoved it away from her eyes. “We snapped two fiber lashings, but it’s squared away now, sir. Sorry, I’m late for watch changeover.” Her eyes drifted to the red flashes on the main display panel covering one wall of the bridge. “What’s happened? Is that…?”
“Fast Attack Craft,” he confirmed. “Cutting us off.”
She stepped in front of him and touched it, fingers sparkling in the coherent light. “Already spinning, ready to strike. How long?” Her voice had gone soft, barely above a whisper as she looked at her probable death.
