Sandra Tayler's Blog, page 128

Fixing the Weave

On my birthday I like to post a piece of short fiction that I’ve written in the past year. Click through the link if you wish to read this year’s story.

Lachesis swiveled in her chair and strode from the room. Out in the time stream the collision was still occurring with aching slowness. Amber would die unless Lachesis made it right.

“Drive safely.” Gary had said with a lopsided smile. Amber loved his smile. The words were a compression of many meanings, much simpler to say than “I love you and I want you to be safe while you’re gone so that you can come back.” Now Amber wished she’d answered the implied message rather than tossing off a flippant “I always do.” But the morning had been filled with minor irritations and she’d been running late. No time for tenderness. No time to go back for a kiss and hug.
The grill of the suburban filled the world. Amber locked eyes with the man driving it. What words had this other man failed to speak to his loved ones this morning?
“I’m sorry” the words filled Amber’s thoughts as the collision arrived.

Lachesis stopped to collect Atropos before going to the fate floor. As they entered, a dozen workers looked up from their screens in their half-height cubicles.
“Are you sure you need me?” Atropos spoke sotto voce absently fingering the scissors at her waist. “I make them nervous. Work schedules will be shot for the rest of the day.”
“Can’t be helped. I hate it when they try to be clever.” Lachesis looked across the cubicles. “There. Station 23.” She met the eyes of the skinny little man seated under the large 23. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

The world filled with the screech of metal and the tinkle of falling glass. Amber was flung backward by the explosive inflation of her airbag. It was like the tumbling ride at the carnival where she and Gary had gone on a date, all jerks and vector changes. Gary. Amber’s eyes squeezed closed even tighter and something walloped her midsection, stealing her breath.

“I just wanted to have time to pick up my dry cleaning before catching the train home from work.” whined Kevin, the skinny man with the adam’s apple. He twisted in his hard chair across the desk from Lachesis. They were back in her office. Atropos stood looking out the window.
Lachesis pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know the rules. You signed your agreement when you were hired. While you’re out there” Lachesis gestured to the wall screen which showed events in the time stream. “Make all the decisions and changes you want. That is your right as a mortal possessed of agency. Change the world. Make it better. Make it worse. I don’t care. But while you’re here” Lachesis stabbed her finger downward at the floor. “You change nothing. Your job is to witness and process the fates of those in the time stream. You send tangles to me and terminations to Atropos. You haven’t the knowledge to weave changes without making tangles.”
Kevin hunched and muttered. “It was only five minutes. What harm could it do?”
Atropos winced. Lachesis gave Kevin a level stare, then punched a command into the control board embedded in her desk. Images on the wall screen scrambled and resolved upon an image of Kevin dozing off during the orientation meeting where butterflies and consequences had been explained. Lachesis sighed. She punched record on her voice memo
“Track down the fool who approved this idiot for hire.” Her finger left the button with an audible snick.
Atropos half turned from the window. “Can we get this over with? You always wind these things out for ever and I have people waiting on me.”
Lachesis scowled at her sister. “He must understand. It is part of the balancing weave. You know that.”
“I don’t like to see them twist. That’s your job. Please be quick.” Atropos turned back to the window.
Lachesis turned back to Kevin “Since you apparently missed your orientation, let me show you more specifically. She punched in another command.
The wall screen resolved on a tumbling Geo Metro rolling down a bank in exquisitely slow motion. A smashed up suburban slid nose-first down the same embankment. Lachesis zoomed the image inward to show Amber, arms flung wide, hair flying. The glass cuts on her face had not yet begun to bleed, but the steering column was already beginning to crush her pelvis.
Silence lay heavy in the room. Kevin’s eyes darted from Lachesis to the car crash in progress and back again. He swallowed.
It was Atropos who finally spoke, though she did not turn from the window. “She will die there. As events are spun, I must cut her thread.”
Lachesis stared at Kevin and stated flatly “Her thread was measured to be much longer than this, but a train was running late.”
“I’m sorry! It never caused trouble before. I had no idea five minutes could affect someone important.”
“Important?” Lachesis said “She is ordinary. Just a girl who would live out her life known to only a few. What matters is the strength of the weave. Your little tangle weakened it.” Lachesis glanced toward Atropos and her scissors.
“I’ll fix it!” Kevin lunged toward the control board. In the blink of an eye Atropos whirled and her dry hand came down on top of his, preventing him from reaching the board. “Don’t you think you have done enough?”
“You know the rules.” Lachesis rasped. “Or you should. Never sign anything unless you’ve read it first. Her car already tumbles into the ditch, that is now part of the weave, but there is a way to salvage her thread. The pattern demands a death. It should not be hers.”
Atropos removed her hand from Kevin’s and pulled out her scissors.

Amber opened her eyes to bright whiteness. She was muzzily aware that her body hurt, but the pain was muffled, like objects hidden under a blanket. She blinked and a fuzzy form became focused.
“Gary.” Amber rasped.
“I’m here.” Gary leaned forward and grabbed her hand. His other hand wiped away tears.
Amber wet her lips. “I love you.”
Gary squeezed her hand. “I love you too.”
Amber nodded. “What happened?”
“You were in an accident. They rushed you here to the hospital and it looked like you weren’t going to make it. You were pretty smashed up. If it hadn’t been for that organ donor who had an aneurism at his office almost the same minute you crashed…” Gary licked his lips. “Anyway you’re going to be fine.”
“The other driver?”
“He’s fine too. Everyone is okay.”
Amber nodded and drifted back to unconsciousness.

(Check the comments  on  onecobble.com to see my author's notes on the story.)

 

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Fear, competence, and being grown-up

When I first saw the letter inside its envelope, I thought it was junk mail. I almost didn't open it. When I read the letter, I had a sick, sinking feeling in my stomach and a flash of fear that our business would be destroyed by a lawsuit. Reason quickly won out and I was able to much more rationally see that the request from Covey that we stop using their trademarked phrase in the comic was a request with which we could easily comply. We made our decision and are happy with the result. The decision we made isn't what I want to discuss here. You see, this is not the first time that I've received a piece of news and been instantly terrified that our business is going to fall apart. It isn't the fifth or tenth or twentieth time either. I can't tell what the number on this event is, because it happens so often. I've come to regard that momentary sick sensation as a normal part of running our own business. I suspect that it is also a result of our usual strategy of diving in and learning as we go.

I spent quite a long time feeling like a fraud. I used to be afraid that I'd mishandled the accounting and the IRS would swoop in to take away everything. I feared that the authors, artists, and business partners would see through our facade of competence. I worried that teachers or other parents would see clearly all my failings as a parent. I feared each of these things a lot, but over the years they didn't happen and the fears faded. I started to believe that we might actually have some of the competence that we presented to the world.

I know lots of adults who say that they don't feel like grown-ups. I feel that too sometimes. There are days when I look around and wonder how on earth I ended up with four kids, a business, and a house. Most of the time I am very comfortable with my grown-up status. I consistently see myself getting necessary things done even though I don't want to do them. In our house this functions as the definition of a grown-up. I wish I could confer upon others the feeling of being grown up. But then I remember the quote from Bujold which paraphrases to: "Being grown-up is not a prize they give you for being a good child. It is something you have to take for yourself."

So I wonder, how I can take my self-awarded grown-up status and my growing belief in my own competence and apply it so that I don't have to go through those moments of believing that everything is going to fall apart because I am faced with a single adverse event. The losing my stomach feeling of roller coasters is not something I enjoy encountering in my kitchen during the middle of my work day.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Monday thoughts

This was a morning full of thinky business emails, preceded by a weekend full of thinky parenting. None of it is completely resolved. Many emails and tasks are waiting until I no longer feel like my brain is mush. I remember when the receipt of email filled me with a child-like delight. I still enjoy getting email, particularly happy email filled with possibilities. My brain just gets tired and I have a hard time keeping up some days. Still, I'm doing pretty well for a Monday. The accounting is done and I've got the packages out the door. The children will be home in 45 minutes, which will bring chaos, joy, and conflict to my quiet house.

I've been sort of afraid to say it out loud, for fear of jinxing it, but January has been … pleasant. I was not aware that this was a possible condition to enjoy during the darkest/coldest month of the year. The goals and mental shifts I made back in December seem to be bearing good fruit. I shall examine it no more and instead just try to keep it up. Some things stop working if you think about them too much.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Saturday Project

It took all day, but I set up my new computer. I even did it mostly by myself, which gives me a sense of ownership and accomplishment. More important, this machine is actually tuned and capable for all the graphic design work that I do. I'm itching to try some book layout on this. I'm excited that I won't have to run use Howard's machine to use photoshop because my old machine couldn't handle it. The screen is big enough to hold full page spreads without side-scrolling. I had other things on my list of stuff to do today, but I feel pretty good about getting this done.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Life the Universe and Everything 2011

Once again BYU is hosting LTUE, a science fiction and fantasy symposium. It will be February 17-19 at the Harmon building on BYU Campus. This is a fantastic event for anyone who wants to work in a creative field even remotely related to science fiction or fantasy. The symposium has everything from technical discussions about art, to quick art lessons, to writer's workshops, to discussions about creativity and mental health. You simply can not find a better informational value for $20. Tracy and Laura Hickman will be running a Killer Breakfast on Saturday morning which is worth the price of admission all by itself. If you've never been to one, it is two hours of RPG fun.

Howard will be there. He's got panels on plotting, health issues for the creative person, why charisma should not be a dump stat in real life, and the Writing Excuses podcast

I will also be on panels. I'm particularly excited about the panel I'll be moderating talking about basic budgeting and financial management for creative businesses. They packed that panel full of really good people who have lots of information about why numbers and dollar signs do not need to fill you with dread. In other panels I'll be helping discuss self-publishing, setting goals, and how the internet is shaping our children.

I highly recommend it.

You can see the whole schedule here.

You can register here.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Small rewards and focused attention

I learned another lesson from yesterday's post about Plants Vs. Zombies. I am extremely motivated by check lists and reward systems, even when the rewards are imaginary. So today I put together a little motivational check box system that lets me measure my revision progress. I spaced things out into a fairly reasonable schedule so that I can finish the revision in about three weeks. I will now try to exceed that schedule, because that is always what I try to do with schedules.

I finished my allotted segment for today, but was stymied in my intent to get ahead because I had to sit next to Gleek for two hours while she caught up on all the homework she hasn't done for two weeks. Gleek was awesome. She slogged through 6 pages of math problems for the reward of one gold fish cracker per problem solved. We upped the price to chocolate chips for the last couple of pages, because her enthusiasm was flagging. In the end we got it all done, which means she'll be able to go to her class "I'm Caught Up" party on Friday.

It felt really good to sit there and give Gleek my complete focus for a couple of hours. Patch has been getting more focused attention as well. He doesn't appreciate all of it, because it has involved much more regular bathing. Link and I had a time to sit down and talk about his school work, which I've not done since some time in October. That felt good too. Perhaps best of all, I gave less attention to Kiki and her homework. She's stepping up and handling it herself, which is a mighty relief.

Here's hoping tomorrow will bring as many good things as today did.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Plants Versus Zombies and patience

I don't play many computer or video games these days, so I can't really explain the appeal of Plants Vs. Zombies. It wears on me after a while, but every year or so I find myself back playing it again for a month or two. The most recent resurgence of interest was when we upgraded to a newer version and discovered that the game now awarded little trophy badges for all sorts of accomplishments. So during the craziness of last fall, when my brain was tired of all my regular things, I would sit down and earn imaginary trophies on Plants Vs. Zombies.

One of the mini-games in PVZ is called I Zombie. I've never played it much. The endless mode was frustrating. I like games where I can accumulate resources rather than trying to extend dwindling resources as far as I can. There was a trophy for getting past level 10 on I Zombie Endless. I wanted that trophy, but never seemed to be able to get past level 5. I sat there, tense, calculating resources in my head, thinking long and hard about each move before I made it. I still could not pass level 5. Then one day I was really tired. I was far too tired to do math in my head. I decided that rather than trying to pass level 10, I would just experiment and have fun. I tried moves that looked crazy. I watched the results curious to see what would happen. It was fun and relaxing. I played the same way the next day, and the next. I played that way for more than a week. Then one day as I was playing, a trumpeting sound alerted me to the fact that I had earned the trophy for getting to Level 10 in I Zombie. Somehow in all that experimenting, I taught myself how to play by instinct. I was far better at the game than I had ever been when I was calculating carefully.

I remember this experience when I am faced with a challenge that seems impossible. I slow myself down, keep at it, and trust that sheer repetition will impart the skills I need. For most things I don't have to get it right all at once. I just have to get it right eventually.

And with that thought, I need to get back to revising my book.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

An awkward moment

I was having a conversation with friends, whose religious affiliation I don't know other than "not the same as me," about heritage and rumors of Native American heritage as long-ago family scandal. One of my young children piped up:

"We all have Native American heritage, because we all come from Adam and Eve."

The moment following her statement was short, but I was at once aware that several people in the room were possibly wondering how I could take my child to a church which teaches Adam and Eve. At the same time I was aware of the need not to shake my child's faith in the things she has been taught. Faith has carried me through many hard places and I believe she will need the strength it can impart. I could have quite fascinating discussions about human origins with either my daughter or my friends, but they start in such different places that I did not know what words to use which would harm no one. I needed to change the subject rapidly so that our pleasant visit would not be turned into something else entirely.

I wish I'd had the presence of mind to say "Yes honey, when we get down to it all humans are related." I don't really know what it was I stammered instead, but because my guests are good people the topic changed and a pleasant afternoon was had.

I don't know that anyone else felt the awkwardness of that moment as I did. Perhaps they thought nothing of it. The event has me thinking about the difficulty of teaching matters of belief to children when others who hold different beliefs are nearby. I wonder if I need to be more courageous about this. I tend to keep discussions of belief behind closed doors. My beliefs are safe there where they draw attack or ridicule. One of the most frightening realizations in my adult life was that there are people in the world with whom I will never be able to peacefully coexist because our belief systems are so far divergent. Yet it is by sharing these close-to-our-hearts beliefs that we have the best chance of understanding each other.

I have no answers, except to know that if I am ever in the position that my friends were in, I will try to do as they did. They did not let difference of belief make them think any less of me and I truly appreciate that.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Thoughts on the staying home from a seminar

It is 9:30 in the morning and I am still in my pajamas. I feel a little bit of guilt over this. Howard, who is every bit as tired as I was this morning, got himself dressed and out the door over two hours ago. Since he left, I've mostly been dozing in bed with occasional excursions to rescue the cat from Gleek's enthusiastic loving or to dispense food. On the other hand, I also feel wistful. Howard is going to spend the day learning valuable information and talking to fascinating people. I will spend it with kids, laundry, packages, email, and (hopefully) book revision.

My attendance at the Writing Superstars Conference for the past two days was a last minute decision. We'd long planned for Howard to go, but when we were over at Brandon's house on New Year's day, Brandon turned to me and said "You should come too." So I did. It was worth every bit of the schedule shuffling and favor claiming that I had to do to clear space. Each conference, convention, and workshop has a distinctive feel to it. From the name and marketing on this one, I expect a more motivational-speaker, sales-pitchy event. Instead I found it extremely warm and down-to-earth. The information density in the presentations and panels was amazing. If you want to learn the business side of writing, this is the event for you. The thing I found personally heart warming was seeing, in gestures and comments from many people, that I've earned a respectable little corner in the local SciFi and Fantasy community.

My one regret associated with the seminar (other than not being there today) is that I did not meet more of the attendees. That room was full of writers in various stages of their dreams. This means that the room was full of fascinating people with stories to tell. I wish I had talked to more of them. On the other hand, I'm glad for every minute that I spent reconnecting with friends. This is happens at conventions too. I am meeting fewer strangers and finding more friends. I suppose it is not a bad problem to have.

My final moments at the symposium were providing taxi service from the hotel to the banquet restaurant. Howard and I did not attend the banquet ourselves, but I had my van and thus the capability to help shuttle people. I ended up driving David Farland, Rebecca Moesta, Brandon Sanderson, Eric Flint, Moses Siregar, and a woman whose name I never did catch. It was only after I'd dropped them all off that I thought about how envy-inducing that particular car ride might be to the fans of these authors' books. I just felt like a I was giving a ride to a group of friends. This is not because I'm important or special, it is because these people are wonderful, friendly, and welcoming. Do not be afraid to approach them at public appearances. They'll be very happy to talk to you.

Part of me is glad to be at home today. I love attending events, but they also exhaust my mental and emotional reserves. Today I can settle back in to my regular routine and help the kids do the same. Being shuffled off to neighbors and babysat is fun for them, but they need routine as much as I do. My wistful regrets are abated somewhat by knowing that I will get to see my non-local writer friends again at WorldCon Reno in August. In the meantime I will lounge in my pajamas and ponder whether to tackle laundry or email first. Email will probably win. Thanks to the joys of laptop ownership, I don't have to get out of bed for it.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.

Shadow Puppets with Mary Robinette Kowal

"Tra la la!" said Mary as she made the little shadow puppet move behind the back lit screen. In front of the screen my four kids sat spell bound, watching the surprisingly life-like motins of the little shadow man. A second player entered the stage and Mary gave this character a distinctly different voice. "Is this the road to London?"

As a professional puppeteer, Mary Robinette Kowal is quite accomplished at this sort of performance. She has performed all over the United States and some other countries as well. Having her perform in my kitchen to an audience comprised of just myself and my children was an opportunity not to be turned down.

I stood at the back of the room, watching not just the slapstick antics of the shadow figures, but the larger scene of Mary and the children. The same light which turned cardboard cut outs into shadow figures also illuminated Mary's face from below. Both Mary and the children were completely focused on the shadow play as it wound to its comic ending. The Children laughed with delight as one of the figures went head first into the river.

"I want to see it again!" Patch declared

"Me too!" said Gleek.

Mary laughed and re-set the stage for an encore performance. My older two kids wandered off, but the younger set laughed again as the figures moved through the now-familiar play. Once the play wound to a close, Mary invited the kids behind her screen to see how the puppets worked.

"You hold these two little rods in one hand and roll this one between your fingers so it moves his leg." said Mary as she demonstrated.

Gleek hardly waited for Mary to finish before she took the puppet and tried it for herself. Patch claimed the other figure, delighted that he could make the little guy pound away with his axe. Mary saw that the kids were exploring the possibilities of the puppets and stepped back to stand with me.

"Tra la la!" said Patch

"Is this the road to London?" Gleek chimed right in. As we watched the two kids do an impromptu encore performance of the play they just watched. Mary and I stood silent and smiling until the ending arrived for the third time.

"If you have cardboard and a shower curtain, you can make a stage like this." Mary said quietly to me. "Then they could make their own puppets."

This second prospect was so enticing that I went and fetched cardboard right away. Mary was struck with the idea of making a little puppet Schlock. She settled at the kitchen counter and began to sketch and cut. Gleek wandered over and decided to make a puppet of her own. I fetched supplies and cut coat hangers for rods. Puppets were made and tested behind Mary's screen. All too soon it was time for Mary to leave.

"One more time!" pleaded the kids. Mary was kind enough to comply, this time there was a difference. She used the Schlock puppet in place of the second little man.

The little cardboard Schlock is still on my counter even though Mary is now gone. I keep picking him up and using the coat hanger rod to make him wave. When I do I think about the joy and magic that can be created out of a few household supplies. The little Schlock makes me happy every time I see him. We will be making our own shadow stage and puppets.

Mirrored from onecobble.com.