Sandra Tayler's Blog, page 121

Hugo Award Nomination

This was written two weeks ago, but I could not post it until after Hugo Nominations were publicly announced:

Through the joys of caller ID, I knew it was Howard calling before I picked up the phone.

"Hi hon. How is Canada?" I asked, cheerful to hear from him while he's off at a convention and I am home with the kids. He was out in the world, giving presentations and promoting the comic which pays our bills.

"Canada is good. Email is better." He answered. I could hear the smile in his voice and I knew what was coming next before he said the words. "Schlock Mercenary Massively Parallel was nominated for a Hugo."

I smiled through my sigh of relief. The comic has been nominated for this Science Fiction award for the past two years, but it came in last place both times. Howard had all but convinced himself that he wouldn't even make the ballot this year. The fact that he did, that we did, is a boost. One that apparently doesn't get old.

"Yay!" I said into the phone. It doesn't say enough, but Howard knows what I mean.

"Know what else? Writing Excuses made the ballot too, best related work."

My smile inched into a grin. We'd been hoping for this. The wording on the best related category had changed so that podcasts were eligible. I could think of nothing more worthy than the weekly podcast Howard did with Brandon Sanderson and Dan Wells.

"Oh wonderful!" I said. It was just as inadequate as yay, but words really can't express the rush of good feeling I was trying to send to my husband so far away from me. It seems we're always sharing the Hugo nominations over the phone. The second weekend in April is popular for events which involve Howard.

I thought ahead to August and the award ceremony which would be held at the World Science Fiction Convention in Reno. During the nomination period I'd silently told myself that if Howard made the ballot, I would get a new dress. He'd made the ballot twice. I'd stick to one dress, but my feet fairly danced with joy. I would have friends with which to share the emotional crucible of award nomination. Instead of feeling slightly misplaced at the pre-Hugo party, I would have good friends to stand with. If the nomination ended with an award, we could rejoice together. If not, group commiseration was built-in.

But all that was in the future. Standing in the kitchen, pushing the phone to my ear, and grinning, I could only feel the joy and honor to be nominated. It meant that out there in the world of Science Fiction, people liked Howard's work enough to put his comic on the ballot. That truly matters, because we love this genre and we love the people in it. The fact that they love Schlock is heartwarming.

"The hard part," Howard continued "Is being here at a science fiction convention, with people who would love to rejoice, and not being able to tell them yet."

"So call Brandon and Dan. You can all be glad together."

We talked of other things for awhile before he had to go, both of us smiling more than the conversational topics called for. Then we hung up and my feet did another cheerful little dance as I walked over to return the phone to its charger. In two more days he would return home and we could celebrate together.

Congratulations to all of the Nominees!

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Word Sketches of the Tayler Family on Easter Sunday

Howard stood in the kitchen holding his phone. He'd had a hard week, not because of external events, but because the work load he had assigned to himself was crushing. Through a super human feat of will and endurance, he'd gotten the work done. Yet the next week still had huge quantities of work to do. In that tired evening amid all that work, Howard wanted a hamburger. It wasn't just about food, he also wanted company and I could not go. He made several calls, but others were busy. He scrolled through his list of contacts and said with a sigh "My phone is full of awesome people with whom I'd love to go out for burgers, but most of them live too far away." This is the shape of Howard's life, full of work and friends.

***

Kiki's pencil moved across the paper as the words of the speaker filled the chapel. She was creating a comic labeled balance which featured a burning candle. I could not see much else from where I sat, but I suspect that she was trying to capture on paper the experiences she's had lately with finding direction and purpose in her life. I watched her hands move surely, directing the pencil and eraser with precision. In mere weeks she would be 16, old enough to date according to long-standing family rule. This birthday marker would arrive after prom was over. "I'm kind of glad." She confessed to me quietly "I didn't want to deal with all that yet." I was glad too, for many of the same reasons. Dating was coming along with driving, a first job, and countless other grown up things. I watched her confidence with the pencil and knew she would find the same sureness in other areas of her life as well.

***

Link was taller than me. It happened several months before, but still startled me every time he stood close. Somewhere in my mind he was still the toddler running across the lawn to hand a broken-stemmed blue flower to me. Back then I could scoop him into my arms and carry him. Before too much longer he would be able to carry me if he chose. Link's new size and strength regularly startled him as well. He kept bumping into things, accidentally damaging his surroundings and sometimes the feelings of those nearby. "I'm not good at words" he said as part of an apology. It was an apology he made grudgingly, not quite understanding why his earlier words were wrong. Words would come to him, as will grace and confidence in his body. He had already begun learning the things he needed.

***

Gleek looked up at me. Howard happened to be in my field of vision and looking in my direction as well. For a moment I could see that they had the same eyes. Gleeks are more brown and smaller, but the shape was the same. They also shared the same impatient spark that drives them toward excellence and the pursuit of new things. Gleek looked away and the moment passed, but I tucked it into my memory.

***

I scooped Patch into my arms, he wriggled uncomfortably and I realized that he'd grown too big to be scooped that way. I put him down and we walked up to bed together. Patch was quite calm about being bigger. It fit his plan. He could picture himself getting bigger than me because his older brother had already done so. In the fall Patch would be headed for a new school. At first the thought of it has sent him into a crying panic. I told him he did not have to go. Then we visited the school and talked about what it was like there. It allowed Patch to picture how things would be. He decided that going was something he wanted to do. There would be tears in the process of adapting. I knew that, but I also knew how to help my son plan. Planning helps him feel happy.

***

Writing a word sketch of myself is tricky. I can only see myself in mirrors, reflected by my surroundings. I know that I often ask too much of myself. I am frequently stressed and anxious and I struggle not to spill these things onto anyone else. However I am also blessed with a clear sense of purpose. This has not always been the case in my life, but it is true right now. I am glad of it all.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

The End Stages of Editing

The last stages of book production always fry my brain. I page through the entire book staring at only the comic frames to make sure that none of them are cropped funny. Some of them are. I mark them. I page through the book looking closely at all of the footnote frames to make sure everything is aligned correctly. Some of them aren't. I mark them. I page through the book and compare each strip with the online archive to make sure that none are missed, duplicated, or out of order. If any are, I mark them. Then I page through the entire book making all the corrections I've marked in the digital file. I print out a clean version without marks and repeat the process. There are also copy edits and Howard edits to enter. All of it requires tightly focused attention and leaves my brain too exhausted for much else.

Despite the fact that my brain is fried by book editing, life goes on. It continues to be full of little stories and thoughts. My blogging brain is well trained to collect these and hold them for future use. Unfortunately editing makes my brain so tired that I don't get around to wrapping words around the ideas, nor to I manage to file the ideas so they're not interfering with other things I need my brain to do. It all jostles about together and I feel quite cluttered. So here are the things my brain has collected in the last few days in no particular order.

***

Link and Patch had an argument in which Link said something that hurt Patch's feelings. It was not deliberate. Link was trying to find words which would let him play video games with just his friend. There were tears and I required Link to apologize. Link told me he didn't want to because Patch would hurt his feelings. In the course of reasoning with Link, I described apologizing in a way that I want to remember. I said that an apology is a gift. You give it to someone with no expectation of return. You can't thrust it upon them and require them to accept, nor is it a time to argue over fault, nor explain your position. You offer the apology because you owe it. If the other person forgives, that is also a gift. It is a separate gift from the apology. Sometimes the other person is not ready to forgive. If that happens, even if the other person is mean or hurtful in answer to the gift of apology, it is your responsibility to just walk away. Anything else makes resolution farther away rather than closer. If you are not ready to give an apology as a gift, then it is not yet time to speak. It is entirely possible to separate out pieces of a conflict and apologize for only a small part. This gift often opens the path to further communication. An apology can be as simple as "I did not mean to hurt your feelings. I'm sorry."

***

Kiki had a reality check about the difficulty involved in becoming a full-time freelance artist. The whole thought of supporting herself on her own work was quite daunting. She talked with me about it, and I think I made it a little better. She talked with Howard about it and walked away feeling like she could conquer. Then she had further inspiration and feels strongly that no matter how hard this path may be, it is the right one for her right now. I love seeing the calm confidence and resolve she is carrying around this week.

***

On Tuesday I became a parent who pulls her kids out of the local school to put them into a different one. Gleek's space in the new school is assured. Patch's is not yet, but is probable. I have mixed feelings about doing this. I used to feel strongly that it was important to keep my kids in the neighborhood school and to spend time volunteering there. Somehow I've arrived at a very different place. My feelings are less mixed now that the decisions are actually made rather than pending. I hope it all goes well.

***

The tulip festival at Thanksgiving Point Gardens has been extended by a week because of the cool wet weather. I may not miss it after all. If I can get the book shipped off by Wednesday, as I hope, then I am claiming Thursday as mine. I will see flowers.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Watershed

I propelled myself into Monday on a wave of nervous energy. I knew when entering the week that it would be a watershed. The work and decisions of this week determine the shape of things to come. It was important to get it right, so I made a list. The list was my focus. Task by task I was going to get through. I arrived at Monday evening with my list still long and my reserves exhausted. Most of my reserves were expended on emotional management rather than task accomplishment. Tuesday was a complete loss at getting work done. The list lay idle while my attention fractured across dozens of small fears and frets.

Wednesday is the fulcrum of most weeks and this week in particular. Today we can see that Howard will get all the margin art done before the end of the week. The cover is already drawn and out for coloring. I filed paperwork which will transfer my youngest two children to a different school. Now I need to settle my mind about these things. The settling is important because while this week determines new directions, the results of these shifts will not be clear until August. I am afraid of August. It is full of tight deadlines and big events. I have no idea how I'm going to fit a book shipping around the August conventions. I've only got a vague idea how I am going to manage the 36 hour turn around from the end of Worldcon to the first day of school. During those 36 hours I have to transport all of us and a load of booth supplies across 8 hours of desert while post-convention exhausted. I don't even know if the youngest of my kids will be transferred to the new school with his sister, and probably won't know until the week I'm away at Worldcon, because the schools won't make their final lists until then.

But at least the decisions are made instead of pending. I've mixed enough metaphors for one evening. Time for bed.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Photos from Arches

Arches National park is a place of stunning beauty. It has been photographed with far more technical proficiency that I am able to produce. Yet there is something about my photos that speak to me in a way that the professionally taken photos do not. I remember standing there. I remember the feel of the camera in my hands and the way the wind whipped my hair as I looked up and up at the spires and arches of red rock.

We were dwarfed and humbled by the sheer size of the place.

We walked trails and contemplated the pathway ahead.

But this I think is my favorite picture. It is not technically beautiful, but it proves that I win at meta picture taking. At least for this trip.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

My List of Things

This is my list of things to do between now and Wednesday. The results of these things will generate an entirely new list of things for the second half of the week. Well, new except for those things which I did not complete before Wednesday and which did not go away on their own. In theory I will be updating as I go, in practice I'll stop when I get distracted and forget:

Accounting I cheated and got a head start here. Finished on Saturday.

Update four websites

EPD layout -place margin art and bonus story

EPD Reprint margin art pages for Howard Done. Monday afternoon

EPD create pipe boxes for footnotes Done Mon 12:50 pm. I learned to work smart. Yay!

EPD enter copy edits

EPD cover comic and quotes

Contact Unspecified cool person about a future book intro

Contact another unspecified cool person about a different book intro.

Complete my book revision

Email triage Done Mon Morning

Visit new elementary school with kids Done Monday afternoon. They are pleased with the look of the new playground.

Go to Meeting with Gleek about gifted program

Decide for certain whether to accept placement in gifted program

Decide whether I'm going to also move my youngest child to the new school or if I'm going to put up with 4 kids being in 4 different schools.

Preliminary layout for four more schlock books

Make dessert for an event I can't attend because I'm double booked

Do reading for Writer's Group

Attend Writer's Group

_____

Added Monday Morning:

Buy 10 ISBN Numbers I can't believe we ran out. 10 books in print right now. On to the next 10.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

On My Neighbor's Steps

I sat on the front steps of my neighbor's house. The sun had set, but the concrete was still warm against my bare feet. I wriggled my toes, reveling in the fact that it was warm enough for me to venture outdoors without the protection of shoes. My neighbor sat next to me and we watched as a mixed crowd of children flocked past us at a dead run. Some of them were hers, some mine, some from other houses nearby. She laughed at the spectacle. I looked at her and thought how much I'm going to miss her when her house sells.

My neighbor's steps are the perfect height for sitting while watching young children play. We've sat there often and watched the dramas of childhood unfold while we discuss the dramas of parenting. We've negotiated truces between her determined son and my headstrong daughter. We've planned birthday parties and then followed through on them. Those steps have been witness to both laughter and tears.

"I really should start gathering kids for bed." She said.

"Me too." I replied. Neither of us moved. On this last day of Spring Break with the weather mild, what we really longed for was a pause button. Stop right there, before the inevitable crankiness of getting kids up for school in the morning, before the last six week dash toward the end of school, before the hectic work schedule of next week, before she moves away. We did not get to pause. Time marched onward and the sky grew dark. We sorted our children into the correct houses and closed the doors. Hopefully later this week will deal out another lovely evening where I can sit and visit with my friend.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Looking toward the week ahead

I counted the number of essays I have left to revise before I can call the revision done. Six. I am so close. I could do that in a day if I pushed myself hard. The trouble is that if I wear myself out finishing the revision, I will be no good for the other bazillion tasks which are depending upon me. So I continue to work steadily in the snatches of time between everything else.

I've always been one to save the best bites for last. I carefully nibble away the crusts before I savor the middle. I push to get things done early so I will be able to enjoy relaxation later. Over all I think it is a good habit to have, however when the supply of crust is constantly replenishing, I have to remember to pause and take bites of the stuff I really want to eat.

Next week is full. I'm going to have to be highly focused to get it all done, particularly the tasks which I don't much enjoy. I hope I can do it all. I want to end next week with layout near done, my revision done, and preliminary layouts done for the next four Schlock books. That last is important because Howard intends to spend the month of May hammering on bonus story outlines. Monday morning it is time to hustle. Between now and then, I have Sunday.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Farewell Vacation, Hello Deadlines

"I need a deadline. Tell me the absolute last date on which we can send files to the printer and have books in time for GenCon." Howard said.

I turned away from him and stared out the van window. The red rocks of Arches had vanished behind us. The rocks I could see were just redish-brown, though the cliff formations were every bit as stunning. Vacation was over and it was time to assess the work ahead. The problem was that I don't like to impose deadlines on my husband. The business manager in me loves them. She wants to schedule every minute detail so that it is all predictable. The family planner loves the idea of working at a steady pace and letting the projects find their own natural completion date.

"April 30th." I said.

Howard's face shifts as if he has been gut-punched. It only lasts a second, but I see the expression. I knew I'd see it. I never want to be a source of stress in Howard's life, but we work together. It is my job to hand him tasks, even when they may be stressful.

"We have to get all the art and proofing done in two weeks?" Howard's voice has an edge to it.

"Oh no." I wave my hands a little, as if that could wipe away some of his stress. "That's the end of your work. The proofing can come after."

"Give me the final deadline."

I look down at my shoe, calculating days in my head. Somewhere during this conversation, I'd pulled my legs up onto the seat with me, half cross legged. I was aware that it was an effort to feel safer, less stressed. It didn't really work. I still had to give out a deadline. I knew the deadline, spoken aloud, would catapult us into several weeks of work-very-fast. I knew that ease would vanish in our scramble to get the book done. I wished that, just once, we could reach the final stages of book preparation with time to spare. We meant to do that this time, but Howard had the winter of unending sickness.

"May 12."

The words were spoken. I could not take them back. Truthfully, my speaking them aloud changed nothing about the realities of printing production and convention dates. The deadline was already there. I'd been watching it the whole time. All that changed was that Howard could see it too.

The scenery kept rolling by outside the window. Howard and I hammered out a plan to get the work done. Then we talked through the months beyond the deadline, hoping to be able to arrange things better for the months to come. I am not looking forward to the stress of the next two weeks. On the other side, there are good things. Far off in October we've even penciled in another family trip. There is just a lot to do between now and then.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

The Price of Family Vacation

There is an unsettled feel to the beginning of a vacation. We walked in the door of the condo and two kids went pelting up the stairs to shout exclamations about the bedrooms. The other two paced around the downstairs as if measuring the bounds of the kitchen and sitting area. I didn't sit still either. I followed the exclamations, traveling up stairs and down, finding places for our suitcases, assessing risks, and making up new rules on the spot.

"No climbing the railing of the balcony."

"Don't jump from bed to bed."

"Bar stools are not for spinning in circles."

"This space is only borrowed, we need to not damage it."

The kids settled more quickly than I did. They contented themselves with running across the wide lawn beyond our back patio, dabbling in the little stream, and swinging vigorously on the chair swing which hung from a high branch on a very large tree. I stood at the back door to watch them. We found this location and reserved it, trusting pictures and reviews on the internet to be true. It was as advertised and the first stressful question of the trip was answered. So many more remained. Where would we eat dinner? Would everyone behave at the restaurant? Would this vacation provide moments of laughter and family bonding, or would we be embroiled in a two day festival of squabble? A cry of dismay and pain from the swing seemed to indicate the latter.

I dashed down the gentle hill to help Patch wipe his knee, just tears no lasting injury. Kiki declared that she missed our cat and wanted to be home. Link announced his boredom. Howard was grouchy and hungry. Then the restaurant was further away than we expected and packed to the seams. I carried the tension of it all in my jaw and back, frequently forcing myself to relax both.

In a turnabout, the service at the diner was incredibly good. Patch declared that it was the best meal he'd ever eaten. Kiki and Howard threw jokes back and forth. Then Patch made us all all laugh by choosing to eat fresh cut lemons instead of ice cream for dessert. He'd taste, shiver, grin, and then do it again. A walk around the condo grounds led us to a park with hammocks, a stream, and a pond. The pond had several large frogs. Good things had begun to emerge from among the unsettled questions.

This is the way of vacations on the first day. I could not know yet whether I had pulled us all out of our lives to build bonds or damage them. Either is possible. I knew when I put the trip on the calendar that parts of it would be hard. I knew that there would be tears and frustrations. These are the price which must be paid in order to earn the memories. The tears and homesickness, the moments of despair over work sitting idle at home, the hours of laying awake late at night to count the various costs of the trip. These are the price.

Then morning dawns with the smell of husband-cooked bacon. The sky is a brilliant blue over red rock formations. Kiki follows her siblings with a camera as they hunt for frogs at the edge of the pond. Patch eats lemons. All of my kids look in awe at the wonders of weathered stone stretching in arches across the blue sky above. Patch declares that he wants to come back every spring break and all the kids murmur assent. My camera is filled with pictures of my children being unconsciously beautiful or deliberately silly. I stare up at the towering rocks with the wind chill in my face, knowing life is good. We discover upon returning to the condo that it is familiar instead of strange. These are the prizes and they are wonderous.

I will never be sorry for this vacation, despite the scrambling I did last week to prepare for it and the scrambling I'll do next week to make up for the missed work time. The prize is worth the price.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.