Mark L. Van Name's Blog, page 209
May 3, 2012
Lobo for a Day
Over at Baen's Web site, Publisher Toni and the fine folks at Baen are running a contest you might find interesting. To enter, all you have to do is write a short essay (no more than 500 words) on what you would do if you had Lobo for a day. (For details, go here.)
I didn't know about the contest in advance, but it sure sounds like fun. Lobo is so powerful and so capable and so very, very intelligent that the range of things you could do with him is vast.
The prize for winning is definitely nice: a free signed first-edition hardcover of No Going Back, plus five free Jon and Lobo ebooks.
I have no idea if I'll get to see any of these entries, but I hope I do. I'm very curious as to what folks would do with one of my favorite characters.
If you're wondering what I would do, well, you'll have to wait to read an upcoming interview in which I answer that very question. More on that interview later.
I didn't know about the contest in advance, but it sure sounds like fun. Lobo is so powerful and so capable and so very, very intelligent that the range of things you could do with him is vast.
The prize for winning is definitely nice: a free signed first-edition hardcover of No Going Back, plus five free Jon and Lobo ebooks.
I have no idea if I'll get to see any of these entries, but I hope I do. I'm very curious as to what folks would do with one of my favorite characters.
If you're wondering what I would do, well, you'll have to wait to read an upcoming interview in which I answer that very question. More on that interview later.
May 2, 2012
The price of stupidity
Enough people have asked about how my injured foot is doing that I thought I'd show you.
Yeah, the power of the InterWebs is that I can share my nasty foot injury with the world.
Let's start with the view of the inside of my foot, as it looked last night at about 2:15 in the morning.
As always, click on a photo to see a larger version of it.
You have to admit it: that is some lovely bruising coming up.
The outside view is less impressive, though if you look at the big image my foot skin appears so dry that you might almost believe you were staring at the fossilized remains of some strange Martian beast.
As this bottom view shows, the bruising loops under the foot, a fact that makes walking extra fun.
From the top, and with the aid of the flash because by this point I was getting into the whole Martian thing, my foot looks like a diseased, cracked, Martian tube worm with strange jutting, discolored weapons.
Or maybe that's just me.
Anyway, the foot is still gaining colors but feels like it's healing. Given my dumb move in injuring it, that's about as much as I could ask for.
Yeah, the power of the InterWebs is that I can share my nasty foot injury with the world.
Let's start with the view of the inside of my foot, as it looked last night at about 2:15 in the morning.
As always, click on a photo to see a larger version of it.You have to admit it: that is some lovely bruising coming up.
The outside view is less impressive, though if you look at the big image my foot skin appears so dry that you might almost believe you were staring at the fossilized remains of some strange Martian beast.
As this bottom view shows, the bruising loops under the foot, a fact that makes walking extra fun.
From the top, and with the aid of the flash because by this point I was getting into the whole Martian thing, my foot looks like a diseased, cracked, Martian tube worm with strange jutting, discolored weapons.
Or maybe that's just me.
Anyway, the foot is still gaining colors but feels like it's healing. Given my dumb move in injuring it, that's about as much as I could ask for.
May 1, 2012
Days of observance lost
Today is Mom's birthday. Of course, I won't be celebrating it with her, because she died on February 11. I will, though, think about her throughout the day and miss her.
Though she lived in Florida and I am in North Carolina, she was at least virtually present, as one's parents often are, in all the usual days of celebration. This year, I'm having the first of each of those days without her, and I am finding them odd and sad.
On my birthday, for the first time in decades I did not receive a silly, sappy card telling me how glad she was that I was her son. She'd spend hours shopping for each of those cards, and I frequently mocked them, but I also knew deep down that she meant what they said.
In less than two weeks, we'll have a made-up holiday, Mother's Day, but I won't be able to call her.
The annual family beach holiday will roll by without her.
And so on.
It's been a long time since I had a father, but being without a mother is a relatively new experience.
I'm going to keep her in my head and in my heart on all of these of these dates. I'll probably whisper aloud a few words to her, not because she can hear them, but because I can. Words, perhaps, like these.
Happy birthday, Mom. I miss you. I love you.
Though she lived in Florida and I am in North Carolina, she was at least virtually present, as one's parents often are, in all the usual days of celebration. This year, I'm having the first of each of those days without her, and I am finding them odd and sad.
On my birthday, for the first time in decades I did not receive a silly, sappy card telling me how glad she was that I was her son. She'd spend hours shopping for each of those cards, and I frequently mocked them, but I also knew deep down that she meant what they said.
In less than two weeks, we'll have a made-up holiday, Mother's Day, but I won't be able to call her.
The annual family beach holiday will roll by without her.
And so on.
It's been a long time since I had a father, but being without a mother is a relatively new experience.
I'm going to keep her in my head and in my heart on all of these of these dates. I'll probably whisper aloud a few words to her, not because she can hear them, but because I can. Words, perhaps, like these.
Happy birthday, Mom. I miss you. I love you.
April 30, 2012
Check out the new Gaslight Anthem single
This band, one of my favorites, has been working for a while on its new album, Handwritten. Recently, they announced that they had finished recording the songs and that the album would go on sale on July 24. I can't wait to listen to it.
Fortunately, we can hear "45," the first song from it, right now. To do that, all you have to do is go to this Rolling Stone exclusive (in the U.S.) page.
Enjoy!
Fortunately, we can hear "45," the first song from it, right now. To do that, all you have to do is go to this Rolling Stone exclusive (in the U.S.) page.
Enjoy!
April 29, 2012
How my brain works
Today, we bopped over to Durham for a food truck rodeo and a stroll around downtown's Durham Art Walk. It was a lovely day, and I had a fine time looking at bits of art and generally just taking the air.
On the way back to the car, lost in thought about a piece of art I'd seen a few shops back, I stepped off a curb, failed to note a second, smaller bump in the road, twisted my left ankle, and went down hard. I've hurt that ankle many times before, so as I twisted it the bone popped briefly out of the joint and then back into it. Each of those pops sent a jolt of sheer agony from my foot straight to my brain.
So, I screamed in pain several times and ended up stretched out on the road for a few minutes while my friends stood over me to make sure any approaching car would notice me. (None came, fortunately.) After wiggling the foot a bit and testing it, I put a little weight on it, crawled to the curb, sat, and rested for another couple of minutes. I then got up and slowly and with a bit of limping finished the walk.
My friends were wise enough not to touch me throughout this process. The last thing I want is unsolicited help. I'm of the "crawl into the cave and pull the rock in after me" school of healing.
As I fell and for some time afterward, including now, only one thought has dominated my thinking:
I'm not sure if everyone thinks that way, but that's how it is in my head.
I'll probably limp tomorrow, though I hope to avoid that.
What an idiot I am.
On the way back to the car, lost in thought about a piece of art I'd seen a few shops back, I stepped off a curb, failed to note a second, smaller bump in the road, twisted my left ankle, and went down hard. I've hurt that ankle many times before, so as I twisted it the bone popped briefly out of the joint and then back into it. Each of those pops sent a jolt of sheer agony from my foot straight to my brain.
So, I screamed in pain several times and ended up stretched out on the road for a few minutes while my friends stood over me to make sure any approaching car would notice me. (None came, fortunately.) After wiggling the foot a bit and testing it, I put a little weight on it, crawled to the curb, sat, and rested for another couple of minutes. I then got up and slowly and with a bit of limping finished the walk.
My friends were wise enough not to touch me throughout this process. The last thing I want is unsolicited help. I'm of the "crawl into the cave and pull the rock in after me" school of healing.
As I fell and for some time afterward, including now, only one thought has dominated my thinking:
You stupid fucking idiot!Here I am referring, of course, to myself.
I'm not sure if everyone thinks that way, but that's how it is in my head.
I'll probably limp tomorrow, though I hope to avoid that.
What an idiot I am.
April 28, 2012
4SNE
When I finally crawled into bed at 6:25 a.m. this morning, I was exhausted and planned to sleep away the day. A little before noon, I got up, worked for a while, and then returned to the welcome arms of my bed for a nap. I repeated this process two more times.
During one of the periods when I was at my computer, I read Neil Gaiman's recent interview of Stephen King. Fairly late in that interview, King talks about stories as found things, and about how sometimes the idea you need just appears when you need it. I believe there's a lot of truth to that notion, because your subconscious is working on your stories more of the day than your consciousness.
Further, some ideas, some images, some plots bubble up during dreams and near-dreams, as if you'd drilled earlier and weakened the barrier between those ideas and your awareness.
The last time I rested in bed today, a short near-dreaming nap under a bright sky shining directly on my head through the skylight above me, an image burst fully formed into my mind.
A young man and a young woman were hiding in the vacant area between two industrial buildings. The asphalt under their feet was surrendering finally to nature, cracks running through it like scars, grass and dirt and weeds and even small yellow flowers thrusting defiantly into the light. As the two people crouched near a dumpster, their heads swiveling as they tried to watch every direction at once for signs of their attackers, a black car running in reverse screeched into the space and stopped less than a yard from them. A sleek, tapered sports car with a small fin over its trunk, it was black on every surface, windows and body and door handles and tires and rims, everything and everywhere black.
Except its license plate. The perfectly white license plate bore no state insignia or other identifier. Instead, on it in thick, strong, sans-serif type were these characters:
4SNE
I woke up then.
I have no clue what that means. It probably means nothing at all.
I love it, though, and I wouldn't be surprised if one day I use it, at least those four characters, maybe the rest.
During one of the periods when I was at my computer, I read Neil Gaiman's recent interview of Stephen King. Fairly late in that interview, King talks about stories as found things, and about how sometimes the idea you need just appears when you need it. I believe there's a lot of truth to that notion, because your subconscious is working on your stories more of the day than your consciousness.
Further, some ideas, some images, some plots bubble up during dreams and near-dreams, as if you'd drilled earlier and weakened the barrier between those ideas and your awareness.
The last time I rested in bed today, a short near-dreaming nap under a bright sky shining directly on my head through the skylight above me, an image burst fully formed into my mind.
A young man and a young woman were hiding in the vacant area between two industrial buildings. The asphalt under their feet was surrendering finally to nature, cracks running through it like scars, grass and dirt and weeds and even small yellow flowers thrusting defiantly into the light. As the two people crouched near a dumpster, their heads swiveling as they tried to watch every direction at once for signs of their attackers, a black car running in reverse screeched into the space and stopped less than a yard from them. A sleek, tapered sports car with a small fin over its trunk, it was black on every surface, windows and body and door handles and tires and rims, everything and everywhere black.
Except its license plate. The perfectly white license plate bore no state insignia or other identifier. Instead, on it in thick, strong, sans-serif type were these characters:
4SNE
I woke up then.
I have no clue what that means. It probably means nothing at all.
I love it, though, and I wouldn't be surprised if one day I use it, at least those four characters, maybe the rest.
April 27, 2012
Lobo on dumb questions
Relatively early in No Going Back, Jon is tired and wants to go to sleep when Lobo says they need to talk about two problems. Here's their interchange:
I very much wanted to sleep. “These can’t wait?” I said.Ah, Lobo. I love his sensitivity.
“Imagine a world in which I disturb you without significant cause,” Lobo said. “We call that, ‘fantasy.’ To put it differently, sure, it can wait, as long as you are willing to let me decide your future for you. That has not, however, been your past preference.”
April 26, 2012
What I'm writing now
is a new Jon and Lobo story. Publisher Toni nicely commissioned it for Baen.com, which means you will get to read it for free. How cool is that?
There's just one problem: I'm terribly late. It was due April 15.
So, I'm going back to it.
Later.
There's just one problem: I'm terribly late. It was due April 15.
So, I'm going back to it.
Later.
April 25, 2012
What's playing in my car right now
I'm late to the party with Basia Bulat, but I'm enjoying her music.
I'm also late with Diamond Nights.
Finally, the two-disc live set from the Decemberists.
I'm also late with Diamond Nights.
Finally, the two-disc live set from the Decemberists.
April 24, 2012
Three fun facts about No Going Back
As frequent readers know, my next novel, No Going Back, is due in bookstores and online on May 29. (You can already buy the electronic advanced reading copy, or eARC, at www.baenebooks.com.) Over the next month, I hope to spread the word about the book, because a book's first-week sales are very important. As a bit of a teaser, here are three interesting tidbits about this fifth Jon and Lobo novel:
How can you resist that combination?
1) Lobo reveals big things--very big things--about himself.Yeah, that's right: more Lobo keen data than you can shake a stick at, big surprises, and, finally, Jon has sex.
2) The title is not hyperbole: a great deal changes in non-reversible ways.
3) As I've mentioned at a few cons, Jon really does get laid.
How can you resist that combination?
