Bryce Moore's Blog, page 256

Revising: Breaking Through Inertia

Well, it took a month or two longer than I had wanted it to, but I'm finally to the point that I'm starting the second draft of GET CUPID. (A title that has grown on me, which I can never tell if that's a good thing or not. You get used to a title, and it's hard to tell if it's good or not.)



Anyway.



One of the problems of being a part-time writer instead of a full-time writer is that I write in stages for the most part. There's the plotting stage, where all I'm doing is plotting the book. Then comes the actual writing of the first draft. It's all new, every day. And then comes revision. Each step is so different from the others. Each step requires a new skill set. Which is to be expected, I suppose. But the thing that really gets me is that each step arrives just after I finish the last step.



Allow me to explain.


By the time I'm finished writing the first draft of a book, I've been doing new material for a good three or four months at least. I remember what I'm doing, the cobwebs are clear, and I'm just humming along. Shifting from that over to plotting a new world and character and conflict--it's very jarring. And then jumping over to revising that draft--that's an even bigger jump.



Each time I have to make the transition, it feels like I'm learning what I'm doing all over again. And I don't know how it is for you, but when I personally am supposed to do new things, I tend to stall. To look for other, more comfortable things to do. Isn't there a new story somewhere that needs writing? What about some more plotting? Anything but actually revising.



The frustrating thing is that I know full well that once I dive in and get hands dirty, it'll all come back to me, and I'll be humming along again. But it's the standing at the edge of that pool, knowing the water's cold, and knowing it's going to be uncomfortable--that's what gets me.



The good news is that I just finished my read through of the first draft of GET CUPID, and I'm very happy with it. Not with the shape that it's in right now, but with my vision of it once it's revised. It's got a lot of potential, and it's not too far off from what I originally pictured when I set off to write the book. VODNIK was a mixed bag of light tone and dark material. TARNHELM is decidedly darker than VODNIK. GET CUPID? This is pretty much fun through and through. Not that there's no conflict. But Eldin, the main character . . . he's a blast. So optimistic. So outgoing. He was a very fun character to get to know, if that makes sense.



I hope to introduce you to him someday.



In the meantime . . . maybe I should stop blogging and start revising.

More School Visits for Vodnik

I did a few more school class visits for Vodnik this past week. I've been going over to see local 6th graders during their library visits, talking to them about the book, how I came up with the idea, how I managed to finish it--that sort of thing. Typically I know it's something authors charge for, but when it comes to supporting my local school district, I'm more than willing to donate my time. Plus, it's fun. :-)



A few interesting/funny stories from this last round of visits:




One of the students walked into the room, came right up to me--before I'd said a single word--and handed me his hat. "Will you sign this?" he asked. I stared at him. Sign his hat? That just felt . . . wrong somehow. I mean, why in the world would the kid want me to sign his hat? "Are you serious?" I asked. If the kid wasn't joking, I didn't want to turn him down. He swore he wasn't. So I signed the hat. I hope his parents don't wonder what sort of a hack author wrote all over their kid's hat.
At the end of my talk, I hand out business cards to all the kids. They've got the cover of the book on them, and the kids are usually quite excited to get one. (Excited enough that I feel vaguely guilty that someone should be that excited to get a business card. I don't know why.) But at the end of one of the classes, one kid asked me to sign the back of his card. (Ten guesses which kid.) I said sure, and before I knew it, I had a line of 30 kids in front of me, all waiting for me to sign the business card I'd just given them. I signed them all, of course, but I did (again) feel like a bit of a con. Why in the world would anyone want me to sign my business card? This is a feeling I'm going to have to get over.
I wear my t-shirt to each of these presentations, and kids really love it. I've had offers to buy the shirt from me. If they knew it glowed in the dark, I probably wouldn't make it out of the room with it on.
I'm always interested to see what questions the kids come up with to ask me. A lot of them are focused on the cover, which the kids almost universally love--especially the boys. (Yay!) They want to know why Tomas's arm is on fire, and when I decline to tell them (I do a lot of "Read and Find Outs" in these presentations), they come up with a series of possible explanations, and then ask me if each one is the right one. There's a lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth when I never tell them.
I read the first few pages from Vodnik, and that gets a lot of them more interested. The evening after one of my presentations, a coworker emailed me to let me know that he had come home from work to find that his daughter had come back from school and begged his wife to pick up a copy of Vodnik from the local bookstore. She was on the couch, nose deep in the book. So I guess something I'm saying is getting their interest. :-)


Really, my hope in these visits isn't to get kids to buy my book. It's to get them interested in reading and writing. Maybe that sounds pretty far-fetched, but it's the truth. These kids are so excited to see me come. Some of them want to ask about how they can get published. Others are focused on how I finish a book, or where I get my ideas. I've been very happy to see plenty of boys be very interested in the book and the process, because I feel like boys are the ones who give up reading the fastest in school. Hopefully that's changing.




In any case, it was a fun few hours, and a nice break from my normal library job. And hey--everybody likes to feel like a celebrity now and then. Even if we do feel like a bit of a poser when someone asks us to sign their hat. :-)

Downton Abbey 3.4 Review

(SPOILER ALERT!) Wow. This episode was . . . both expected and unexpected. I know I was just complaining that nothing really bad ever permanently happens to this family. Apparently the writers thought the same thing, so they decided to wallop the Granthams right upside the head. Here are my responses to the latest developments:


I have to lead with Sybil's death, of course. As soon as the dueling doctors plot line was introduced, I turned to Denisa and said, "Sybil's either going to end up in a coma or dead. My bets are on a coma, so they can miraculously bring her back a few episodes later." Well, my prediction was right, but the writers finally decided to make some tragedy stick. Yes, we'd had Lavinia's death last season, and Daisy's forlorn lover, but neither of those deaths were really unexpected. Loverboy was a minor character. Lavinia was an obstacle to what people really wanted: some hot Mary and Matthew action. Sybil? The nice sister? Yikes. And can I just say that watching that episode next to your 6 months-pregnant wife isn't exactly the most fun way you can spend an evening? (Note to self: I am very glad for modern medicine.) Still, props to the show for following through with it, and for not putting some soft touches on it. Death happens, even to rich people. It's no prettier.
Speaking of the dueling doctors plot--I was overall pleased with it. I especially like how Cora has now taken it as proof that her husband is to blame for Sybil's death. That's a perfectly reasonable conclusion, though it just as easily could have been Cora getting the blame, if they'd gone to the hospital and had the c-section, only to have her die. It's not like such an operation would have been a walk in the park. So, great way to use a character death to introduce a slew of new conflicts. Sorry, Sybil.
Matthew consulting with that guy about how to run the estate--What an idiot. "He was here anyway, and who knows when he'd be back." Really? Because . . . what? You're too busy eating breakfast every morning to haul your bum out to the city to visit the man in person? Matthew was a complete bonehead there, and Mary was 100% justified in being disgusted with him.
Thomas breaking down crying--a very nice touch. I felt bad for the troll. Just for a minute.
Daisy being the She-Harpy from Hades--Not fond of this plot at all. Daisy's not a mean cow. It's not in her. Yes, she's dense. And I get that she'd be jealous. And I suppose power corrupts. But still. Please make this plot line end.
Maid-turned-whore-turned-maid--Fascinating to see how people respond to her and are shocked Mrs. Crawley took her in. Also interesting to see what a failure of a cook she is. Not my favorite plot just yet, but it's got some potential. Part of me would really like to see Mrs. Crawly face the cold hard fact that a cheerful disposition and good old fashioned determination really can't cure the world of all its ills. But maybe I'm just a mean cynic. I'm not a fan of her former cook at all, but I'm intrigued how important it was to the woman that she not be seen with the ex-whore. At all.
Bates and Anna still continue their lame Murder She Wrote side story. Maybe if Anna got a big dog and named him Scooby. I might start caring a bit more. But now we know he's innocent, and we can already see the evidence evaporating from a mile off. Maybe I'd like the plot more if it weren't predictable.


That's all that comes to mind at the moment. What did you all think about it?

Dominating the Dojo: An Official Ramble

I can't remember if I've used this analogy here on Bryce's Ramblings before, but it's been on my mind for some reason, and I wanted to share some thoughts about it. Like most good Bryce analogies, it starts with a pop culture reference: Dominating the Dojo. Fans of Seinfeld will remember this refers back to Kramer, who in one episode brags all about how he's come to a new level of self understanding by conquering his fears of fighting other people in his karate class. (Ka-ra-tay class, that is.)



Here's the relevant clip:







(They've disabled embedding for the best version I found, so you're going to have to go ahead and click over to YouTube to check it out if you want to see the full context. Sorry. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z2CTihQy_XE)



I love this little sequence for a number of reasons. First of all, what Kramer's saying isn't wrong. (In the full clip, he gives an inspirational speech to Elaine about how he came to dominate the dojo.) He has some really good points. It's just that the specific example he uses--his ability to overcome all odds and now dominate the dojo--is wildly off base. But really, learning how to release your fears and have some self confidence is something that can do wonders for anyone. You'll be able to perform at a much higher level than you ever could have if all you were doing was worrying the whole time about making mistakes.



Allow me to tell a brief aside. It's actually something I've blogged about before. Here's the relevant quote:

The closest thing I can compare it to was when I was in district orchestra in high school. I'd had to try out to get in (note to kids--if you play the bassoon, it doesn't really matter how bad you play in your audition. They need the instrument in the orchestra, and if there are only two who audition and they need two bassoons . . . you do the math). Anyway, my audition had been terrible. I was so worried about doing poorly, that I messed up. A lot. But once I was in the orchestra, practicing was fine. No nerves at all. It was fun.



Then I had to perform for the concert.



The nerves came back with a vengeance. The first chair bassoon (Brittnay Lineberry, my music teacher's daughter) told me something that's stuck with me since: it's okay to be nervous during the audition. What you do can affect you then. The nerves are bad, but they're understandable. Once you're performing, though, it's your time to set nerves behind you and show what you can do. You proved you could get where you were--now do what you can do best. (Note to Brittnay: when the only reason someone got into the orchestra in the first place was because there was no other competition, this advice doesn't quite work as well, which might be why I played a wrong random note--loudly--in the middle of that flute solo.)

 In this case, learning how to let go and just do my best was a big step forward. As it was--no doubt--for Kramer.



And yet, we then find out the dojo Kramer is dominating is full of children. He so outclasses the other people, that there's no way for him to not dominate.



The problem, of course, is that so long as you're in a contained system--a single dojo--there's no way to tell if you're dominating due to skill, innate advantages, or some other reason. You need to go bigger. Challenge yourself. Start seeing what life is like outside that one place. Once you do that, you're likely going to find out that you're not nearly as dominating as you think. But you're also going to start growing and improving yourself in ways you never could have if you'd just stayed in that dojo.



I see a lot of parallels to life in this single Seinfeld clip. (Which, yes, likely means that I'm a bit too big of a fan of Seinfeld.) We start out in an elementary school. Maybe we're the best speller in the class. Or the best kickball player. You get the picture. We're good enough at something that we think we're the best. (Case in point: watching Usain Bolt win gold in the Olympics with my son a while ago. When I asked TRC what he thought, he was impressed. "Wow, Dad. That guy's almost as fast as I am."



Then we come to middle school. Maybe 3 or 4 elementary schools join together. Each one of those schools had their own "bests". This means there are now 3 or 4 kids who think they're the best at kickball or spelling. And like Highlander, there can be only one. Which means there are now 2 or 3 kids who have begun to learn the lesson of the dojo.



This is followed by junior high, and then high school, and then college. Each step of the way, the dojo gets bigger. It becomes more and more difficult to dominate. But because of the nature of the way this progresses, you also become more and more likely to think you're pretty hot stuff if you're still able to dominate that dojo.



Then you graduate college, and that's where the dojo analogy smacks you in the face.



See, from elementary to middle school, the dojo maybe tripled in size. Lets say (to make the math easy) it went from 100 people to 300. Middle school to junior high, it maybe tripled again. Now it's at 900. Middle to junior high, it doubled. 1,800. Junior high to high school, let's double it again and round. 4,000 people--and that's in a really big high school. College takes you maybe to 30,000. A huge jump. Over seven times as big.



Once you leave that contained system, you go from 30,000 to . . . how high do you want to go? Your entire state? Millions? Your nation? Hundreds of millions? The world? Billions. The transition is enormous. It's what makes playing at the professional level so much more difficult than playing at the collegiate level, and it applies to pretty much everything. Or let's make this more about writing, since that's something I'm more familiar with. Getting published in your school newspaper is one thing. Getting into your college's magazine is another. Getting a bona fide book published is yet another. Becoming a New York Times Bestseller? Good luck with that, son.



The good news is that, after some flailing around, we all end back up in a dojo of our choosing, sooner or later. Surrounded by a social circle and coworkers that are once again blessedly limited. There are hints now and then of the outside world, but for the most part of our day to day lives, we can sit back and just keep our head down and be happy.



So here's a question: would it be better to never leave the dojo to begin with? To never have to face the sheer size of what else is out there?



I would say no. You need that experience for a number of reasons. First of all, to teach you some humility. It's great that we all have our strengths, but no one wants to be Kramer in the dojo. (At least, I hope no one does.) Sooner or later, the dojo fights back, and you're surrounded by a mob of angry tweens in a dark alley. (Or is that just me?)



Second, we need to see the bigger picture in order to get better. You gain strength by encountering resistance. You open yourself up to new ideas and new approaches. The bigger the dojo, the better the chance is for the student to reach his or her full potential.



And in the end, isn't that what we should be worried about? Being the best we can be? I know I for one am happier when I can let go of my knee-jerk desire to always compare myself to other people--to always prove that I'm better in some fashion. That way lies madness and disappointment. To be constantly improving, however--to always be becoming a better me . . . that's a path I can endorse, and one which hopefully can lead to lifelong joy.



And those are all the deep thoughts I have for you this Monday. Thanks for reading.

The Saga of the Frozen Dishwasher

Newsflash: It's been cold in Maine. I know--it's been cold everywhere right now. But not everyone is living in a farmhouse built in 1841. We've added insulation all over the place, but it still gets plenty of . . . ventilation. Yeah. We'll call it that.



The worst spot is our kitchen wall. The wind blows constantly on it, and it can get quite frigid. This usually isn't a problem, since the kitchen is where we have our wood stove, and the wood stove smashes that cold to smithereens.



Except.



There are pipes that run along the inside of that outside wall. Just two: the dishwasher pipes, one for the water, one for the drain. If anything's going to freeze these days in our house, it's those pipes. Two nights ago, Denisa tried to run the dishwasher at 11:00. No go. An hour later, I had the pipes thawed and all was well.



Until I got home from work the next day, and not only had the input pipe froze, but the drain pipe had iced over, too.



I had had enough, so I decided to do what I could to prevent the problem from happening again. This involved moving out the stove, insulating the pipes, moving them up away from the floor, spraying in some foam insulation, adding some board insulation, moving out the dishwasher . . . and re-thawing those lousy pipes again. It took three hours, but I'm happy to report that things didn't freeze last night. Of course, the temperature didn't get quite as cold, either--so I guess we won't know if I really fixed the problem until it gets to subzero temperatures again.



I'm thinking a kitchen renovation is looking more and more likely in our future.



Step one is saving up money to be able to afford it . . .

Movie Reviews: 2 Agatha Christie Movies, 1 Director

I'm a big James Bond fan. What does that have to do with Agatha Christie, you ask? Well, Guy Hamilton (director of Goldfinger, and some not as great Bonds (Diamonds are Forever, Live and Let Die, The Man with the Golden Gun) happened to direct two Christie adaptations back to back, each starring some pretty fantastic actors. I'm a sucker for a good mystery, and they're both on Instant Watch, so . . .



The Mirror Crack'd--A Miss Marple mystery starring Angela Lansbury before she became Jessica Fletcher. It also stars--get this--Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, Tony Curtis, Kim Novak, and even has Pierce Brosnan in his first film role (a two second part, really. And he's just a kid. But still.) All star to say the least. A movie is being made in England, and two rival leading ladies are cast in starring roles. Both are very dive-esque. And then someone dies. Naturally, it happens to be in Miss Marple's hometown.



The actual mystery doesn't quite live up to the casting, but it was enjoyable enough. The solution to the mystery seemed just a bit too far-fetched for me. I like my whodunnits to have given me enough information to solve the case on my own, but complex enough that I wasn't able to solve it until it's staring me in the face. Not an easy balance to achieve. Typically it's too obvious, or there's not enough information given. This was close, but leaned toward the latter. I particularly liked the chief inspector, who was utterly disarming and yet able to get everyone to talk about just what he wanted them to--and not seem contrived while doing it. Two and a half stars.



The gem (in my opinion) is Evil Under the Sun, starring the always delightful Peter Ustinov as Hercule Poirot. He does such a fantastic job with the character. It's easy to see why he returned to the role again and again over the years. I've watched the television series of Poirot. It's just not the same. It's hard to make a fussy fat man entertaining and endearing. Ustinov pulls it off.



In this mystery, Poirot is called to a small island resort to investigate a stolen gem. As is so often the case, there's  really annoying person on the island, and everyone wants her dead. (This is why we don't live on islands, folks.) Somebody follows through on that desire, and Hercule Poirot races (or waddles) to the rescue. The mystery is quite well done. I wasn't expecting much from this movie, and I got more. Three stars.

Board Game Review: Seven Wonders

I love me some board games. Last year for Christmas, we got 7 Wonders as a gift. I'd read that it could be played with just two players (my long standing requirement for most board games I asked for--the other being that it hopefully would appeal to Denisa). Once I got it and looked at the rules, I discovered it was really intended for 3 or more players, so it sat on the shelf for quite some time.



While we were in Germany, I stayed with my friend Dan Wells for a few days. He's possibly a bigger board game nut than I am, and he and his wife taught Denisa and me how to play 7 Wonders. Denisa enjoyed it, and I lamented that we didn't have a third player to make it possible for us to play the game back in Maine.



That's when Dan pointed out that his kids all love the game, even his six year old.



I haven't played many games with TRC and DC beyond the Candyland, Monopoly variety. I just wasn't sure they'd have a fair shake at winning, and so I didn't want them to have a bad gaming experience and be turned off the hobby for life. (Okay. Sometimes I overthink things a bit. Sue me.) But after talking about it with Dan some more, I decided we might give it a go, just to see how plausible it was.



Monday evening, we all sat down for a game of 7 Wonders. I taught TRC ahead of time, and Denisa still remembered how to play. It's got a really cool theme--each person is trying to build one of the seven ancient wonders of the world. You've got armies and guilds and trading--lots of interaction (more or less). Not the easiest game to learn, but far from the hardest. Denisa and I each each gave it our best.



TRC won the game.



Granted, he asked me for help from time to time, and I gave him good advice, but he beat us fair and square. DC had a great time, too--playing on Denisa's team. I thought it went very well.


The next evening, both kids pleaded for us to play again. We got two games in that time. Yesterday evening, they asked for more of the same. TRC does a great job on his own now. He's starting to figure out the strategies involved and use them to his benefit. He hasn't repeated a victory yet, now that he's playing on his own, but he's getting much better with each game.



I'm beyond pleased with this. It opens up so many more games to be played. Catan of course. Carcassonne. More advanced games of Small World. I've got a ton of games, and kids that are just coming into their own at being able to play them.



So--a big thanks to Dan Wells for convincing me this was possible, and a big thanks to 7 Wonders, for making an awesomely accessible game. You can fit a whole game into a half hour, and everyone has a good time. Bravo!

Downton Abbey 3.3 Review

Okay. This season is really coming into its own, and it's doing it (for the most part) by avoiding the cheap plot tricks of last year. (WARNING: SPOILERS) Yes, you have the occasional "I've got cancer--just kidding!" sub plots, but that's not what's driving the season. What is driving it is some good meaty class warfare, illustrated wonderfully through the period events of the house and staff. A run down of the developments this week and my reactions:




Sybil and Tom--I enjoyed this quite a bit. I have to say, as much as I really didn't like Sybil running off with Tom last season, I'm very much liking what Tom's bringing to the table this time around. He's consistent as a character. He wants equality, and he's not afraid to stand toe to toe with the Granthams. Tom has a point to a lot of his arguments, even if the way he applies those points can be misguided. Then again, it's not like the people of this time period had a manual about "How to get more equality." Well, not including the French Revolution. I'm really enjoying seeing Sybil and Tom be forced to live with the repercussions of their marriage. They thought they could work things through. That love would conquer all. Turns out, it ain't that easy. Not that I'm hoping they end up splitting, but I like the struggle.
The maid turned prostitute--Another good example of life forcing someone to acknowledge that pluck and a positive attitude really can't solve all problems. Heartbreaking to see her have to leave her son, but still . . . it seems realistic, and I've got to give the show props for that. So often in plots, we have the best outcome arrive at last. Mary marries Matthew. It doesn't always end like that, and it's important in a show like Downton to have bad things happen from time to time. I'd even say it would be better if more bad things would happen and not get magically fixed.
Matthew and Lord Grantham--As predicted last week, the miracle cure for the money woes of Downton has set up what I hope will be a great conflict. Both sides have their points. No one's clearly wrong. It's old vs. new, which is what the Matthew plot from Season One was all about. I'm ecstatic to have it back. And I love how the Granthams pay lip service to embracing change, but when change actually arrives, they want nothing to do with it.
Edith--She's becoming a newspaper columnist? Maybe this could be good, though I think I'd rather gouge out my eyes than read anything the woman wrote. One of my favorite parts of the episode was when she was getting reamed out by her grandmother. Stop whining, Edith!
Bates and Anna--This plot continues to do nothing for me. The jail scenes look like some awful Count of Monte Cristo imitation. Or some old version of Prison Break. Blech. It's just plain outlandish and strange, and it doesn't fit in with the rest of the season at all. I'm hoping they somehow manage to fix this, but I don't see it being possible. Prediction: after much intrigue and drama, by the end of the season, Anna and Bates are happily reunited, and Bates gets his job back as Valet, leaving Thomas a sobbing wreck.
Daisy and the New Guy--I love that at the end of the episode, just as Daisy's getting what she thought she always wanted, she discovers she doesn't want it. It makes total sense to me that she takes New Guy's compliment to the New Girl as a personal insult. Daisy's self esteem is low enough that that's the only way she could take it. Bravo. Poor thing.


Anyway--those are my initial thoughts. Anyone have anything to add? Think I'm off base? Did I forget something? Do share. I still love this show.

Coming Up with a New Chores Sheet

I'm starting to think that most problems in life can be solved with a simple Excel sheet. Well, maybe not *too* simple. I mean, I'm sure world hunger would require at least a few good pivot tables. But when it comes to keeping the house clean and making sure the workload is spread out? You don't even need to make any charts with Excel.



Here's the problem: Denisa was thinking the other day that we have two able-bodied children who are capable of doing a whole lot more around the house than they currently are. They're not lazy, but they're also very good at making messes. (As, I imagine, most children are.) The theory is that if they were in charge of certain rooms of the house, then perhaps they'd be a little less eager to mess those rooms up at the drop of a hat.



A guy can dream, folks.



So I've been spending a fair bit of time in the depths of Excel, charting out a plan that will repeat every week, making sure that it at least looks fair on the surface. Everybody gets chores they do each day of the week. These range from helping with dinner to vacuuming to sweeping to folding laundry. Some chores are shared--like emptying the dishwasher. DC can't do the whole thing on her own, and TRC can fill in for what she can't do.



Will this work? I have no idea. It's a first draft. We'll tweak as necessary. What does it look like? Something like this:









TRC
DC
Dad
Mom


Monday
Laundry
Laundry
Laundry
Laundry



Table
Dinner
Declutter
Sweep




Sweep











Tuesday
Dinner
Table
Declutter
Bathroom









Wednesday
Vacuum
Sweep
Declutter
Vacuum





Table
Sweep









Thursday
Dust
Counters
Declutter
Plants



Table
Dinner











Friday
Trash
Table
Declutter
Sweep



Dinner
Sweep

Mop









Saturday
Clean Room
Clean Room
Clean Room
Clean Room





Declutter






Table










Always
Living Room
Entryway





Wood
Kitchen





Dishwasher
Dishwasher

In Which I Find Out My Eye Has Suffered Permanent Damage

Remember that bit about me hitting myself in the right eye with a penny a month or two ago? Allow me to refresh your memory.



Yeah.



Well back on December 26th--in the middle of my European vacation--something happened. I'd been working on troubleshooting some tech problems my mother-in-law had been having, when suddenly I noticed I couldn't see right out of the middle of my right eye.



At first I thought it was a migraine, but it was limited to one eye, and I never got a headache. I tried to sleep it off, but it didn't get better.


That's not something you want to have happen to you when you're in thousands of miles from your home. I had no idea what to do, so I just prayed it would get better--or not get worse--and I stopped wearing contact lenses.



It has gotten better somewhat, but the first thing I did when my plane landed in Boston was call my eye doctor. He looked at it, then sent me to a retinal specialist, and I went down there this morning. They dilated my eyes into oblivion and shone every bright light they could find. What a pleasant experience. They also took detailed pictures of my retina.



It seems like when I hit my eye with that cursed penny, it caused some of the vitreous fluid to detach, and it injured a very small part of my retina. (I'm not an eye specialist, folks--this is just what I took away from the meeting.) The good news is that it's not going to get worse. The bad news is that it's not going to get better.



I'm choosing to focus on the good news. I'm attached to being able to see out of my right eye, and as cool as it would be to wear an eye-patch all the time, I've decided I'd rather avoid it. It's been three weeks or so since I started noticing this problem, and I've become quite used to it. Basically, it's like I looked at a bright light and then looked away, and I've got this tiny afterimage of that light hovering in my vision.



Honestly, I don't notice it now except when it's bright outside. I can still read with the eye, see with the eye, do everything I used to be able to do with it. I just have to accept that little afterimage is going to be there, and stop worrying about it. That's a big deal for me--being able to know it's okay, and it's not going to get worse.



So. That's my Friday for you. And that's all I have to say about that.