R.F.G. Cameron's Blog, page 2
December 29, 2014
How To Define Success - It Depends
It may sound trite to state the obvious but defining success depends very much on each individual and her or his personal paradigm. This statement, counterintuitive at times, is even more true for novelists.
Sometimes success isn't what it seems. I write Sci-Fi / Fantasy novels, my shortest story (at 43,000 odd words) qualifies as a novella. Short story writers tend to have a different traditional market, but in order for someone like me to join the SFWA it takes a paid sale to a qualifying venue, read Trad Publisher, no Self Publishers or Vanity / Subsidy Publishers allowed.
As Groucho Marx once sent in a wire: "PLEASE ACCEPT MY RESIGNATION. I DON'T WANT TO BELONG TO ANY CLUB THAT WILL ACCEPT PEOPLE LIKE ME AS A MEMBER".
Humorous as that statement may seem, it makes sense. Consider an author (as in a novelist) who sells 1,000,000 copies of his / her book, who hits the NY Times list, and so on. If that author did the SP route, as far as the SFWA is concerned that author is not qualified for membership while someone who made one qualifying sale to a Traditional Publisher that didn't sell over 20,000 copies is a professional.
In this hypothetical case the author who sold one million copies isn't considered a "commercial success" and therefore a professional while the author who sold at most 20,000 copies is. Perhaps it's time to separate the words commercial and success.
Through the years I've read some wonderful books in many different genres, and conversely I've read more than a few I wish I hadn't. The best reads I had were when the author had a fresh story or a very unique take on an old story to tell. The worst reads were when the author was either churning out more of the same in order to meet a contractual obligation for "commercially viable" or using past acclaim to sell a book that wasn't worth reading.
In the past year I haven't had the opportunity to read (much less write) that I once had. I have a strict taskmistress who keeps me busy most of the time. Point of fact, if the Wife hadn't gotten off early I wouldn't be sitting here, I'd be busy entertaining a young mind better than my own.
Yet in the past year I've gained access to some wonderful books by authors who may not be "commercially viable" but who are professional in what they do, weaving a tapestry of words that entrances the reader to suspend disbelief while stepping into another world.
At present it looks like it will be a while before I can release my next two books (a year if not six), but that's not a problem. There are some wonderful writers (TP and SP) who deserve a lot more acclaim and I'll be doing what I do -- working on other stories as I can while weaving small tales for a better mind than mine.
Sometimes the truest measure of success is the lives we've touched and enriched, even when the world at large never hears about it.
Sometimes success isn't what it seems. I write Sci-Fi / Fantasy novels, my shortest story (at 43,000 odd words) qualifies as a novella. Short story writers tend to have a different traditional market, but in order for someone like me to join the SFWA it takes a paid sale to a qualifying venue, read Trad Publisher, no Self Publishers or Vanity / Subsidy Publishers allowed.
As Groucho Marx once sent in a wire: "PLEASE ACCEPT MY RESIGNATION. I DON'T WANT TO BELONG TO ANY CLUB THAT WILL ACCEPT PEOPLE LIKE ME AS A MEMBER".
Humorous as that statement may seem, it makes sense. Consider an author (as in a novelist) who sells 1,000,000 copies of his / her book, who hits the NY Times list, and so on. If that author did the SP route, as far as the SFWA is concerned that author is not qualified for membership while someone who made one qualifying sale to a Traditional Publisher that didn't sell over 20,000 copies is a professional.
In this hypothetical case the author who sold one million copies isn't considered a "commercial success" and therefore a professional while the author who sold at most 20,000 copies is. Perhaps it's time to separate the words commercial and success.
Through the years I've read some wonderful books in many different genres, and conversely I've read more than a few I wish I hadn't. The best reads I had were when the author had a fresh story or a very unique take on an old story to tell. The worst reads were when the author was either churning out more of the same in order to meet a contractual obligation for "commercially viable" or using past acclaim to sell a book that wasn't worth reading.
In the past year I haven't had the opportunity to read (much less write) that I once had. I have a strict taskmistress who keeps me busy most of the time. Point of fact, if the Wife hadn't gotten off early I wouldn't be sitting here, I'd be busy entertaining a young mind better than my own.
Yet in the past year I've gained access to some wonderful books by authors who may not be "commercially viable" but who are professional in what they do, weaving a tapestry of words that entrances the reader to suspend disbelief while stepping into another world.
At present it looks like it will be a while before I can release my next two books (a year if not six), but that's not a problem. There are some wonderful writers (TP and SP) who deserve a lot more acclaim and I'll be doing what I do -- working on other stories as I can while weaving small tales for a better mind than mine.
Sometimes the truest measure of success is the lives we've touched and enriched, even when the world at large never hears about it.
December 14, 2014
Context and Accuracy in Real vs Fictional Worlds
Sometimes I'm a bit amazed at how different people react to matters of Context and Accuracy in Real vs Fictional Worlds.
If I (as a writer) am less than accurate in details about real world subjects in the worlds my characters inhabit there is bound to be a reader who will think I'm an idiot even if they don't say it. As a writer it's my job to do the research to make the context my characters live in as believable as possible. This is what helps the reader suspend disbelief while reading.
On the other hand, in the real world, politicians and activists have no such restriction regarding the performance of adequate research.
If Stephen Hawking states his opinion that there is no god, many people accept his opinion as scientific fact when it isn't. Unless I'm mistaken personal opinion isn't quite the same thing as a scientifically proven fact, no matter how famed the person stating the opinion.
Science is about facts that can be demonstrated, tests / experiments that are repeatable, and rational explanations. So far there are many mysteries in science where some matters are left alone (for now) because humans don't have either the tools or the ability to test for certain things.
As a rule an honest scientist will tell you "As a scientist I can't say it's impossible for 'X' to exist, because there is no way of proving that at present." When it comes to topics deities, life after death, singularities (i.e.: black holes), the true nature of reality, a multi-verse vs a discrete single universe an honest scientist will tell you these are topics we can't truly know the answers to, yet.
Oddly enough many (if not most) politicians have no need or desire to be honest on any topic that might advance their careers. Free Trade bills will be promoted as bringing jobs and prosperity to the masses even when the reverse is true. FBI statistics show that since 1993 crime has been going down, yet politicians tout the need for more privatized prisons and draconian laws to fight the 'long-term rise in crime rates'.
There is nothing quite as inaccurate as someone saying "Well, everyone knows..." because often enough that person has been given inaccurate information and not taken the time to verify it. Sometimes authors get accused of pulling something out of a smelly nether region when they are actually accurate.
So next time you read something in a speculative fiction book you suspect is wrong, take the time to do the research to verify whether the author is wrong or not. The truth is the reality we live in is quite often stranger than fiction.
The singularity referred to by physicists and astronomers alike is a placeholder for something they (and the rest of us) don't understand, yet.
If I (as a writer) am less than accurate in details about real world subjects in the worlds my characters inhabit there is bound to be a reader who will think I'm an idiot even if they don't say it. As a writer it's my job to do the research to make the context my characters live in as believable as possible. This is what helps the reader suspend disbelief while reading.
On the other hand, in the real world, politicians and activists have no such restriction regarding the performance of adequate research.
If Stephen Hawking states his opinion that there is no god, many people accept his opinion as scientific fact when it isn't. Unless I'm mistaken personal opinion isn't quite the same thing as a scientifically proven fact, no matter how famed the person stating the opinion.
Science is about facts that can be demonstrated, tests / experiments that are repeatable, and rational explanations. So far there are many mysteries in science where some matters are left alone (for now) because humans don't have either the tools or the ability to test for certain things.
As a rule an honest scientist will tell you "As a scientist I can't say it's impossible for 'X' to exist, because there is no way of proving that at present." When it comes to topics deities, life after death, singularities (i.e.: black holes), the true nature of reality, a multi-verse vs a discrete single universe an honest scientist will tell you these are topics we can't truly know the answers to, yet.
Oddly enough many (if not most) politicians have no need or desire to be honest on any topic that might advance their careers. Free Trade bills will be promoted as bringing jobs and prosperity to the masses even when the reverse is true. FBI statistics show that since 1993 crime has been going down, yet politicians tout the need for more privatized prisons and draconian laws to fight the 'long-term rise in crime rates'.
There is nothing quite as inaccurate as someone saying "Well, everyone knows..." because often enough that person has been given inaccurate information and not taken the time to verify it. Sometimes authors get accused of pulling something out of a smelly nether region when they are actually accurate.
So next time you read something in a speculative fiction book you suspect is wrong, take the time to do the research to verify whether the author is wrong or not. The truth is the reality we live in is quite often stranger than fiction.
The singularity referred to by physicists and astronomers alike is a placeholder for something they (and the rest of us) don't understand, yet.
November 25, 2014
Writing and Conscience
Once in a while I read a news story that makes me ponder again a question fiction writers often get asked: "Why do you write?"
I usually preface my answer with "Certainly not for the money, because most fiction writers don't earn squat." I then go on to explain about how a storyline will run through my head and at some point when a strong character emerges I have to write their story so he/she/it will shut up so I can sleep. And often enough I do wake up in the wee hours with visions of storyline dancing in my head.
The reality though is that one reason a writer should write fiction is to effect positive change, a matter of conscience if you will. Writers should not only write about the topics they find fascinating, they should also write about the issues that societies should face with honesty and compassion.
Part of the reason I feel the way I do about writing is simple, authors can in a very real sense help others see the world around them differently (hence the need to effect positive change in a world which already has too many negatives). Science Fiction writers of old inspired new generations of scientists to seek out ways to bring imagined devices into being, while other writers helped inspire other changes.
Two stories caught my eye this morning for very different reasons. Both news stories spoke to me of how some people view their world and the denial evident at times in their views. I could write at length about how the two very different stories relate, but I won't.
For now I'll just gather the seasonings for making a garlic-cinnamon turkey so I can cook it tomorrow.
I usually preface my answer with "Certainly not for the money, because most fiction writers don't earn squat." I then go on to explain about how a storyline will run through my head and at some point when a strong character emerges I have to write their story so he/she/it will shut up so I can sleep. And often enough I do wake up in the wee hours with visions of storyline dancing in my head.
The reality though is that one reason a writer should write fiction is to effect positive change, a matter of conscience if you will. Writers should not only write about the topics they find fascinating, they should also write about the issues that societies should face with honesty and compassion.
Part of the reason I feel the way I do about writing is simple, authors can in a very real sense help others see the world around them differently (hence the need to effect positive change in a world which already has too many negatives). Science Fiction writers of old inspired new generations of scientists to seek out ways to bring imagined devices into being, while other writers helped inspire other changes.
Two stories caught my eye this morning for very different reasons. Both news stories spoke to me of how some people view their world and the denial evident at times in their views. I could write at length about how the two very different stories relate, but I won't.
For now I'll just gather the seasonings for making a garlic-cinnamon turkey so I can cook it tomorrow.
November 22, 2014
Elections, Travels, Poopy Diapers, Ruptures
After being unable to hit the laptop for a while I am, at long last, stealing a few moments to sit down and write something more than the bare bones of a novel plot (yes I wrote down notes for the genesis of a world where things have gone horribly wrong so I won't have to do a prequel later).
So per the title of this I will detail a bit of what has kept me from being online and/or interacting with people above the age of one year. And there we were...flashback...flashback...you can flush the terlet any day now...flashback...
Back in September Wife decided she needed a break from work and I needed my old Dispatcher Jeep back -- she had apparently decided if either of us went postal it would be with the appropriate vehicle (in this case a DJ5-CDX a.k.a. Postal Jeep).
So Wife put in for three weeks leave (yes she saved a lot of time) and began making plans for a round robin to Monterey Bay (California) to recover my jeep from storage then return to Texas with a stop in Arizona/Utah to let grandparents meet the tiny demon warrior princess. The plan was to depart SA on October 14, drive out, rent a tow dolly, load the jeep, have kaffee with a friend of mine, and then drive back in a leisurely fashion. As anyone who has dealt with strategy and tactics knows, no plan survives first contact unchanged. Things didn't work out quite as planned by Wife the Phoenix.
On the Sunday before our Tuesday departure Tiny Demon Warrior Princess woke up early as she usually does now. Being a considerate papi I took Her Grace out of the bedroom to start her day while Mami Phoenix enjoyed the rare luxury of sleeping late.
It was while Her Grace was trying to rip the window blind apart that I first learned about Saggital Band Rupture. I was making a flicking motion with my left hand saying "Let go, we don't play with that" when I realized my left middle finger wasn't moving. In fact, the harder I tried to lift it the more it hurt and the back o my hand burned as the flexor tendon pulled over toward my left ring finger.
A homemade splint, then a trip to Urgent Care and the ER went by before we were home, my hand hurting but with a promise a specialist would call within 72 hours, Her Grace hangry (hungry/angry), and Wife determined the trip would go as planned. Can we say "cry havoc'?
To begin with when Wife went back to work after Tiny Demon was born she slowly slipped into the mindset of many men who have a spouse who stays home to take care of the baby, to wit being the stay-at-home parent isn't really work, it's like an extended vacation without pay.
While I did laundry one-handed preparing for the road Phoenix got to change most of the diapers, fix most of the bottles, fix most of Her Grace's meals and ours, ride herd on the Tiny Demon while I helped out as best I could with my left middle finger extended full-time. After a day I got "Can you at least try to help out?" Bwahahahahahahahaha
Finally the 14th arrived, we loaded up the truck with our stuff, settled and strapped Her Grace in her armored car-seat, then quickly whisked our way out of SA, sort of, not. It took us forty-five minutes to cover eleven miles to get out of town because we got caught in Tuesday morning San Antonio rush traffic which is equivalent to being stuck in Atlanta traffic during Friday afternoon rush hour. Metro SA is home to two million people after all and the roads aren't as wide.
Between stops for diaper changes, sanity stops for Wife to have a smoke and some air, stops for food-kaffee-gas, we made it to Roswell. Pulling into Roswell Her Grace gave us her opinion of being stuck back in the armored car-seat most of the day -- she filled her diaper with something so foul it would have gagged a starving turkey vulture.
At any rate we spent a wonderful night at an overpriced Motel with a low numeric (remember the aliens stay there as well) and left Roswell around 07:30 on the 15th. We went through Vaughn (NM), hit Cline's Corners, dashed through Albuquerque, and over the hours made our way to Flagstaff. Along the way Her Grace amazed a few Navajo with her ability to walk and run barefoot of gravel as she wouldn't keep her shoes on.
On the 16th we traveled from Flagstaff to Salinas (CA), a long day it was, and a precursor for Friday.
Let's just say the 17th was packed with activity, and the few minutes of break were when Phoenix and I took Her Grace to Monterey Bay to get her toes wet. We did pick up the old Dispatcher Jeep, and by the end of the day we were all ready for some sleep.
Saturday the 18th we started back, with a side trip to let grandparents see Tiny Demon Warrior Princess (they were properly amazed at how focused, strong, and coordinated she is), and after a week we were back in SA. The stop we made at Meteor Crater so Her Grace could be unimpressed by the big hole in the ground was icing.
The last week of Wife's leave was spent with appointments, trying to sort things out from the trip, and at the end of the week Her Grace's first birthday, celebrated twice. The first celebration was with her cousin (Yeti's Daughter, my little sister's youngest and a long story) and the second celebration was back at home.
The following week saw Phoenix return to work and the Mid-Term Elections. Part of the reason I didn't contact a friend to meet up for kaffee while we were in Salinas was the simple fact my inbox was crammed with political garbage telling me who I needed to vote for and how all these different campaigns needed me to send as much money as I could. I would have been happier with fewer emails and a better chance to introduce Rick to the family.
This last little bit regards the elections, which held little surprise for me. My political leanings are, like most people's, a mix. I'm not a Democrat, Republican, or Libertarian. I view most politicians, regardless of political affiliation, as bought and paid for by the contributors who gave the most money, and therefore at the least slightly rotten if not actually corrupt. Does anyone honestly believe the wealthy or their corporate outlets would give anyone millions without expecting something in return?
American apathy toward the electoral process isn't due to the majority thinking things are great and the politicals are doing a great job representing the best interests of the people, it's due to the majority believing the political parties no longer give a damn about the majority. If that apathy is going to change it will only be when elected representatives actually try representing all their constituents rather than the special interests who use fear mongering to sway voters.
At any rate, I need to finish this and get back to Her Grace, and Phoenix, and the laundry. With luck I might have enough time left to jot a few lines about how Terra's governments were co-opted by the corporations that took their special form of insanity to the stars...
So per the title of this I will detail a bit of what has kept me from being online and/or interacting with people above the age of one year. And there we were...flashback...flashback...you can flush the terlet any day now...flashback...
Back in September Wife decided she needed a break from work and I needed my old Dispatcher Jeep back -- she had apparently decided if either of us went postal it would be with the appropriate vehicle (in this case a DJ5-CDX a.k.a. Postal Jeep).
So Wife put in for three weeks leave (yes she saved a lot of time) and began making plans for a round robin to Monterey Bay (California) to recover my jeep from storage then return to Texas with a stop in Arizona/Utah to let grandparents meet the tiny demon warrior princess. The plan was to depart SA on October 14, drive out, rent a tow dolly, load the jeep, have kaffee with a friend of mine, and then drive back in a leisurely fashion. As anyone who has dealt with strategy and tactics knows, no plan survives first contact unchanged. Things didn't work out quite as planned by Wife the Phoenix.
On the Sunday before our Tuesday departure Tiny Demon Warrior Princess woke up early as she usually does now. Being a considerate papi I took Her Grace out of the bedroom to start her day while Mami Phoenix enjoyed the rare luxury of sleeping late.
It was while Her Grace was trying to rip the window blind apart that I first learned about Saggital Band Rupture. I was making a flicking motion with my left hand saying "Let go, we don't play with that" when I realized my left middle finger wasn't moving. In fact, the harder I tried to lift it the more it hurt and the back o my hand burned as the flexor tendon pulled over toward my left ring finger.
A homemade splint, then a trip to Urgent Care and the ER went by before we were home, my hand hurting but with a promise a specialist would call within 72 hours, Her Grace hangry (hungry/angry), and Wife determined the trip would go as planned. Can we say "cry havoc'?
To begin with when Wife went back to work after Tiny Demon was born she slowly slipped into the mindset of many men who have a spouse who stays home to take care of the baby, to wit being the stay-at-home parent isn't really work, it's like an extended vacation without pay.
While I did laundry one-handed preparing for the road Phoenix got to change most of the diapers, fix most of the bottles, fix most of Her Grace's meals and ours, ride herd on the Tiny Demon while I helped out as best I could with my left middle finger extended full-time. After a day I got "Can you at least try to help out?" Bwahahahahahahahaha
Finally the 14th arrived, we loaded up the truck with our stuff, settled and strapped Her Grace in her armored car-seat, then quickly whisked our way out of SA, sort of, not. It took us forty-five minutes to cover eleven miles to get out of town because we got caught in Tuesday morning San Antonio rush traffic which is equivalent to being stuck in Atlanta traffic during Friday afternoon rush hour. Metro SA is home to two million people after all and the roads aren't as wide.
Between stops for diaper changes, sanity stops for Wife to have a smoke and some air, stops for food-kaffee-gas, we made it to Roswell. Pulling into Roswell Her Grace gave us her opinion of being stuck back in the armored car-seat most of the day -- she filled her diaper with something so foul it would have gagged a starving turkey vulture.
At any rate we spent a wonderful night at an overpriced Motel with a low numeric (remember the aliens stay there as well) and left Roswell around 07:30 on the 15th. We went through Vaughn (NM), hit Cline's Corners, dashed through Albuquerque, and over the hours made our way to Flagstaff. Along the way Her Grace amazed a few Navajo with her ability to walk and run barefoot of gravel as she wouldn't keep her shoes on.
On the 16th we traveled from Flagstaff to Salinas (CA), a long day it was, and a precursor for Friday.
Let's just say the 17th was packed with activity, and the few minutes of break were when Phoenix and I took Her Grace to Monterey Bay to get her toes wet. We did pick up the old Dispatcher Jeep, and by the end of the day we were all ready for some sleep.
Saturday the 18th we started back, with a side trip to let grandparents see Tiny Demon Warrior Princess (they were properly amazed at how focused, strong, and coordinated she is), and after a week we were back in SA. The stop we made at Meteor Crater so Her Grace could be unimpressed by the big hole in the ground was icing.
The last week of Wife's leave was spent with appointments, trying to sort things out from the trip, and at the end of the week Her Grace's first birthday, celebrated twice. The first celebration was with her cousin (Yeti's Daughter, my little sister's youngest and a long story) and the second celebration was back at home.
The following week saw Phoenix return to work and the Mid-Term Elections. Part of the reason I didn't contact a friend to meet up for kaffee while we were in Salinas was the simple fact my inbox was crammed with political garbage telling me who I needed to vote for and how all these different campaigns needed me to send as much money as I could. I would have been happier with fewer emails and a better chance to introduce Rick to the family.
This last little bit regards the elections, which held little surprise for me. My political leanings are, like most people's, a mix. I'm not a Democrat, Republican, or Libertarian. I view most politicians, regardless of political affiliation, as bought and paid for by the contributors who gave the most money, and therefore at the least slightly rotten if not actually corrupt. Does anyone honestly believe the wealthy or their corporate outlets would give anyone millions without expecting something in return?
American apathy toward the electoral process isn't due to the majority thinking things are great and the politicals are doing a great job representing the best interests of the people, it's due to the majority believing the political parties no longer give a damn about the majority. If that apathy is going to change it will only be when elected representatives actually try representing all their constituents rather than the special interests who use fear mongering to sway voters.
At any rate, I need to finish this and get back to Her Grace, and Phoenix, and the laundry. With luck I might have enough time left to jot a few lines about how Terra's governments were co-opted by the corporations that took their special form of insanity to the stars...
June 25, 2014
Zombiepocalypses
While tending to She Who Will Conquer The Known Universe I have seen a few Zombiepocalypse movies as well as a documentary on how likely or unlikely such a thing as a Zombie Apocalypse might be.
To be honest, I was more impressed by the documentary than most of the movies. Don't get me wrong, I find Walking Dead interesting not because of scientific accuracy but more because those plucky few individuals keep surviving against incredible odds.
Why was the documentary better than the majority of the movies? Simply put the science was sound. The odds of anything being infected within seconds (or even a few minutes), dying, then being reanimated to go on a flesh-eating rampage are laughably improbable to say the least. However, the odds of an illness infecting someone, destroying a person's ability to think, leaving that person a reactive eating creature ruled by baser instinct aren't nearly so far-fetched.
Thanks to the wonderful guys and gals who brought the first Genetically Modified Organisms to the world, it is possible to create a viral organism that would be capable of infecting billions and turning those unfortunate victims (who survive the artificial plague) into ersatz zombies.
For example, a modified form of rabies that shuts off the higher brain functions (like speech, political thought, and sarcasm) could be combined with something like the common cold, not only increasing infectivity but also impact. If the incubation period is two to three days with infectivity being right after that period but major symptoms starting only after three to four weeks it would work. [If you think the people working for and at Bayer, Monsanto, Dow, and numerous other government contractors couldn't figure out how to do that stop reading now and go back to the Adventures of the Purple Saurain Who Loves Everyone.]
For those remaining, next set up shop at travel hubs, like airports, bus stations, truck stops, and so on. How does one set up shop you ask? Simply find the restrooms, replace the aerosol air-fresheners with your own GMO-viral cocktail that liberally sprizes Zombie-Bug-1 into the air for anyone hitting the bathroom to breathe in -- that fresh scent just makes me oh so hongry. If that doesn't make you look around next time you're in one of those facilities, you could be zombie fodder.
Just try to remember unless you're one of those rare naturally immune individuals, you probably don't want to breathe in that fresh scent.
For all those who thought I couldn't write horror, nanny nanny boo boo. For all those who wonder how I could think that scenario up, I think it was the last uber-stinky diaper I changed this morning, or the fact I need to interact more with entities older than eight months of age.
Have a great day, and with luck I might finish the Zombiesque novel I was working on a year and a half ago -- it's mostly finished but not quite there. Now it's time for me to go let my tiny demon daughter rip my face off due to oh oh she so hongry.
To be honest, I was more impressed by the documentary than most of the movies. Don't get me wrong, I find Walking Dead interesting not because of scientific accuracy but more because those plucky few individuals keep surviving against incredible odds.
Why was the documentary better than the majority of the movies? Simply put the science was sound. The odds of anything being infected within seconds (or even a few minutes), dying, then being reanimated to go on a flesh-eating rampage are laughably improbable to say the least. However, the odds of an illness infecting someone, destroying a person's ability to think, leaving that person a reactive eating creature ruled by baser instinct aren't nearly so far-fetched.
Thanks to the wonderful guys and gals who brought the first Genetically Modified Organisms to the world, it is possible to create a viral organism that would be capable of infecting billions and turning those unfortunate victims (who survive the artificial plague) into ersatz zombies.
For example, a modified form of rabies that shuts off the higher brain functions (like speech, political thought, and sarcasm) could be combined with something like the common cold, not only increasing infectivity but also impact. If the incubation period is two to three days with infectivity being right after that period but major symptoms starting only after three to four weeks it would work. [If you think the people working for and at Bayer, Monsanto, Dow, and numerous other government contractors couldn't figure out how to do that stop reading now and go back to the Adventures of the Purple Saurain Who Loves Everyone.]
For those remaining, next set up shop at travel hubs, like airports, bus stations, truck stops, and so on. How does one set up shop you ask? Simply find the restrooms, replace the aerosol air-fresheners with your own GMO-viral cocktail that liberally sprizes Zombie-Bug-1 into the air for anyone hitting the bathroom to breathe in -- that fresh scent just makes me oh so hongry. If that doesn't make you look around next time you're in one of those facilities, you could be zombie fodder.
Just try to remember unless you're one of those rare naturally immune individuals, you probably don't want to breathe in that fresh scent.
For all those who thought I couldn't write horror, nanny nanny boo boo. For all those who wonder how I could think that scenario up, I think it was the last uber-stinky diaper I changed this morning, or the fact I need to interact more with entities older than eight months of age.
Have a great day, and with luck I might finish the Zombiesque novel I was working on a year and a half ago -- it's mostly finished but not quite there. Now it's time for me to go let my tiny demon daughter rip my face off due to oh oh she so hongry.
April 25, 2014
Ate-a-kat and the Demon Warrior Princess
Tiny demon warrior princess and I need to have a talk. Too soon you say for a father-daughter talk? I think not. You see, it has become readily apparent that tiny demon warrior princess has decided on an exhibition of behavior that flagrantly fractures the societal conventions of proper ate-a-kat when dining; to wit trying to stuff both her feet into her mouth while I'm trying to feed her.
Imagine my shock and consternation the first time she managed to stick her foot in her mouth before the spoonful of food arrived. There she was providing a sarcastic display of toe-gumming designed to point out her imminent demise from advanced starvation if I didn't fill her belly with food right away. You can well imagine my horrified gaze when she proceeded to stuff a second set of toes into her mouth followed by appreciative 'yummy' sound-effects.
Sadly enough, she crossed the line this morning by not only getting ten toes into her mouth, she also grabbed the spoon and tried to steer it between all those excess digits. Fret not though, we both survived the instance even if it took five minutes longer to feed her.
Tiny demon warrior princess is now contentedly grumbling about inept service at her once-but-no-longer-favorite eating establishment. Somehow I get the impression that "nah-nah-nee-nee-noo-screech" is less than complimentary.
I hope this PSA done on behalf of "Tiny Demon Warrior Princesses Against Imminent Starvation" will get me back in her good graces.
Imagine my shock and consternation the first time she managed to stick her foot in her mouth before the spoonful of food arrived. There she was providing a sarcastic display of toe-gumming designed to point out her imminent demise from advanced starvation if I didn't fill her belly with food right away. You can well imagine my horrified gaze when she proceeded to stuff a second set of toes into her mouth followed by appreciative 'yummy' sound-effects.
Sadly enough, she crossed the line this morning by not only getting ten toes into her mouth, she also grabbed the spoon and tried to steer it between all those excess digits. Fret not though, we both survived the instance even if it took five minutes longer to feed her.
Tiny demon warrior princess is now contentedly grumbling about inept service at her once-but-no-longer-favorite eating establishment. Somehow I get the impression that "nah-nah-nee-nee-noo-screech" is less than complimentary.
I hope this PSA done on behalf of "Tiny Demon Warrior Princesses Against Imminent Starvation" will get me back in her good graces.
April 4, 2014
Writing, Grub-Bowl Ballet, and Ate-a-cat
I read a blog this morning that summed up many points on what is often wrong with far too many authors today; fear.
Before anyone gets offended, let me explain, please. When I say fear, I aim it toward those authors who feel they have to protect the reading public from the unwashed-unedited-ill mannered hordes of self-published amateur authors who can't possibly write well, but in many instances often do.
I've seen authors who claim that when reading a self-published book four typos (or less) is the point where they close the book and stamp it unfit for public reading. Other self-proclaimed geniuses state they can tell if a book is worth reading with no more than the first sentence (yea gods, what intellect). These same authors often tout the perfection of traditionally published works, as there is apparently never (in their qualified-justified opinions) a bad cover, typos, and any other complaint. All I can say is, what a load of cow pies.
I write, and I read. I've read more books than I could possible write if I had that much time to write, which I don't. In the last fifty-one years of reading, I've seen a large number of works by traditional authors with poor cover art, crappy editing (lots of typos and WTF passages), where the only reason the books in question were marketed was because the author was famous.
I've also read works by 'hobby writers', works I'd willing shell out the money for the paperback or Ebook. Were there typos? In one roughly 400,000 word novel I spotted four typos and promptly forgot them because the story had me hooked. In another, I spotted three or four, but the story kept leading me along and the few typos didn't matter.
Up to now you've seen how this blog relates to writing, so it's time to pull in the "Grub-Bowl Ballet" and "Ate-a-cat".
The "Grub-Bowl Ballet" was what I was dancing while preparing tiny demon warrior princess' second-breakfast. While my knees crackled and my vertebrae popped during the preparations for her soon to be devoured solids I was contemplating the blog I'd read earlier.
The issue of etiquette, or as my father would have said when I was young "Ate-a-cat" went through my poor simple-minded noggin while I was getting the Grub-Bowl ready. I listened to the complaints of a five-and-a-half month old child: "You're not feeding me fast enough", "There's not enough chicken", "It's too cold", "Faster, feed faster", and "Oh no, it's finished".
The dictionary (dictionary dot com) defines etiquette as: (1) conventional requirements as to social behavior; proprieties of conduct as established in any class or community or for any occasion, (2) a prescribed or accepted code of usage in matters of ceremony, as at a court or in official or other formal observances., or (3) the code of ethical behavior regarding professional practice or action among the members of a profession in their dealings with each other: medical etiquette.
I've read a number of postings as to the "Ate-a-cat" expected of authors, especially amateur or hobby authors, and it's fairly arbitrary. I've corresponded a few times with a few famous and not so famous professionals, and to be honest many of them aren't much different than us less-than-professionals. The etiquette I encountered was fluid, variable, and dependent upon the author.
The fact remains though, authors read. Professional authors read the work of other professional authors. Professional authors often applaud the work of other professional authors.
Perhaps I'm wrong but if one author reads another author's work then the reader is free to like or dislike what he or she read. If the author-reader goes on to rate or review what they read, it's not improper etiquette. As readers, authors have as much right to have a personal opinion as anyone else.
If you're an author and you like my work, great. If you're an author and you don't like my work, great. Either way it means you read my work and had a reaction to it, which led to an opinion. At the end of the day, all any author can hope for is that someone will pick up some of his or her work, take the time to read it from beginning to end, and either like or dislike it.
If an amateur or hobby author takes the time to make their work as indistinguishable from the professional as possible, it's even more better (mas mejor).
For now, I think it may be time for me to do the "Change-Poopy-Diaper Ballet". Have a great Friday, and take the time to enjoy a book.
Before anyone gets offended, let me explain, please. When I say fear, I aim it toward those authors who feel they have to protect the reading public from the unwashed-unedited-ill mannered hordes of self-published amateur authors who can't possibly write well, but in many instances often do.
I've seen authors who claim that when reading a self-published book four typos (or less) is the point where they close the book and stamp it unfit for public reading. Other self-proclaimed geniuses state they can tell if a book is worth reading with no more than the first sentence (yea gods, what intellect). These same authors often tout the perfection of traditionally published works, as there is apparently never (in their qualified-justified opinions) a bad cover, typos, and any other complaint. All I can say is, what a load of cow pies.
I write, and I read. I've read more books than I could possible write if I had that much time to write, which I don't. In the last fifty-one years of reading, I've seen a large number of works by traditional authors with poor cover art, crappy editing (lots of typos and WTF passages), where the only reason the books in question were marketed was because the author was famous.
I've also read works by 'hobby writers', works I'd willing shell out the money for the paperback or Ebook. Were there typos? In one roughly 400,000 word novel I spotted four typos and promptly forgot them because the story had me hooked. In another, I spotted three or four, but the story kept leading me along and the few typos didn't matter.
Up to now you've seen how this blog relates to writing, so it's time to pull in the "Grub-Bowl Ballet" and "Ate-a-cat".
The "Grub-Bowl Ballet" was what I was dancing while preparing tiny demon warrior princess' second-breakfast. While my knees crackled and my vertebrae popped during the preparations for her soon to be devoured solids I was contemplating the blog I'd read earlier.
The issue of etiquette, or as my father would have said when I was young "Ate-a-cat" went through my poor simple-minded noggin while I was getting the Grub-Bowl ready. I listened to the complaints of a five-and-a-half month old child: "You're not feeding me fast enough", "There's not enough chicken", "It's too cold", "Faster, feed faster", and "Oh no, it's finished".
The dictionary (dictionary dot com) defines etiquette as: (1) conventional requirements as to social behavior; proprieties of conduct as established in any class or community or for any occasion, (2) a prescribed or accepted code of usage in matters of ceremony, as at a court or in official or other formal observances., or (3) the code of ethical behavior regarding professional practice or action among the members of a profession in their dealings with each other: medical etiquette.
I've read a number of postings as to the "Ate-a-cat" expected of authors, especially amateur or hobby authors, and it's fairly arbitrary. I've corresponded a few times with a few famous and not so famous professionals, and to be honest many of them aren't much different than us less-than-professionals. The etiquette I encountered was fluid, variable, and dependent upon the author.
The fact remains though, authors read. Professional authors read the work of other professional authors. Professional authors often applaud the work of other professional authors.
Perhaps I'm wrong but if one author reads another author's work then the reader is free to like or dislike what he or she read. If the author-reader goes on to rate or review what they read, it's not improper etiquette. As readers, authors have as much right to have a personal opinion as anyone else.
If you're an author and you like my work, great. If you're an author and you don't like my work, great. Either way it means you read my work and had a reaction to it, which led to an opinion. At the end of the day, all any author can hope for is that someone will pick up some of his or her work, take the time to read it from beginning to end, and either like or dislike it.
If an amateur or hobby author takes the time to make their work as indistinguishable from the professional as possible, it's even more better (mas mejor).
For now, I think it may be time for me to do the "Change-Poopy-Diaper Ballet". Have a great Friday, and take the time to enjoy a book.
March 24, 2014
Back to werk
Since the little one is exhausted this morning (after all it's hard work for a tiny demon warrior princess to keep her servants together and in line for forty-eight hours), I might actually get some writing done.
As I reenter the world of the Waenstil and delve into the repercussions of their having obliterated LA and Mexico City (among other targets) I will strive to be unbiased, unless of course the classical music keeping demon princess bored to snores puts me to sleep.
What happens when an ancient race kicks another race's butt and learns the leaders of the 'losers' want revenge? Pretty it isn't.
As I reenter the world of the Waenstil and delve into the repercussions of their having obliterated LA and Mexico City (among other targets) I will strive to be unbiased, unless of course the classical music keeping demon princess bored to snores puts me to sleep.
What happens when an ancient race kicks another race's butt and learns the leaders of the 'losers' want revenge? Pretty it isn't.
March 22, 2014
Life and the Dread Leech
I've been offline for a bit (currently listening to Aqua's "Barbie Girl" and other tunes on the CD for effect), life happens whether we wish it to do so or not.
During this time one of my non-pleasures was a trip to see the leech, and no I really don't care to have a physic poke, prod, and decide I'm just not bright enough to take care of myself. (I mean really, if I was that dain-bread I wouldn't have survived this world for over half a century.)
*** Sorry for the interruption but tiny demon warrior princess peed her diaper, woke up during the traumatic experience, and yelled for rescue from exile vile. ***
One of my pleasures during this time was taking tiny demon warrior princess to the local zoo where I gave her instruction on the relative edibility of creatures like hippos. While there a Modern who was there with her child remarked on how adorable tiny demon warrior princess is. While accustomed to such statements from Moderns when I escort her out in public, my question is: would a tiny demon warrior princess be anything but adorable at five months of age? I mean really, she's here to conquer the world by whatever means and "adorable" is just one method. Since she had pegged all six month markers except crawling before she'd reached four months, her adorability is simply the tasty icky wax spread across the heat-dehydrated carbohydrate substitute.
Since I'm out of Limbo for now I suppose it's time for me to get back to work in the Hell worlds, the Waenstil world, the Swan's world, and the Merloss world. Come to think of it, I have a ton of work to finish, whether on an 'alien' world or in simulacrums of this one.
Oh well, time for me to play poltergeist.
During this time one of my non-pleasures was a trip to see the leech, and no I really don't care to have a physic poke, prod, and decide I'm just not bright enough to take care of myself. (I mean really, if I was that dain-bread I wouldn't have survived this world for over half a century.)
*** Sorry for the interruption but tiny demon warrior princess peed her diaper, woke up during the traumatic experience, and yelled for rescue from exile vile. ***
One of my pleasures during this time was taking tiny demon warrior princess to the local zoo where I gave her instruction on the relative edibility of creatures like hippos. While there a Modern who was there with her child remarked on how adorable tiny demon warrior princess is. While accustomed to such statements from Moderns when I escort her out in public, my question is: would a tiny demon warrior princess be anything but adorable at five months of age? I mean really, she's here to conquer the world by whatever means and "adorable" is just one method. Since she had pegged all six month markers except crawling before she'd reached four months, her adorability is simply the tasty icky wax spread across the heat-dehydrated carbohydrate substitute.
Since I'm out of Limbo for now I suppose it's time for me to get back to work in the Hell worlds, the Waenstil world, the Swan's world, and the Merloss world. Come to think of it, I have a ton of work to finish, whether on an 'alien' world or in simulacrums of this one.
Oh well, time for me to play poltergeist.
February 25, 2014
Husbands at OB/GYN Appointments and Life in general
Every so often I have a day when I just want to do nothing, which is not so easy to do when you need to support your spouse with their career and take care of a very young child. It’s even harder to motivate on those days when your physical condition equates with what is euphemistically termed ‘broken’, i.e.: due to past injury or health you can no longer operate at peak efficiency.
And no, this post isn’t about my health so much as a few observations made on a day when I would rather have stayed in the cave.
First, playing classical music while attempting to coax a four-month-old daughter into taking a nap after her second breakfast is not conducive to anyone’s ability to write, or do housework, or avoid drooling on the computer’s keyboard. Add in the child waking up abnormally early (for her) and the effect of classical music is zzzzzzzzzzz…
Second, when the four-month-old daughter rolls over to the mirror you have set up (so you can keep an eye on her) and she starts kissing the baby in the mirror, laughing is not a wise reaction. Tiny demon warrior princess has a sense of humor, but not necessarily about herself. If looks could kill…
Third, accompanying Wife with Daughter to an OB/GYN checkup (the post partum one was delayed due to factors beyond control), it’s best to avoid being a tired smartass. Young people early in their medical careers don’t always have enough experience to tell when you are and aren’t being serious.
***
Practitioner: “Are you experiencing any pain when having sex?”
Wife: “No, no problems.”
Me: “Only when she gets the handcuffs too tight or breaks out the whip because I was naughty.”
Chaperone: *Strangled snort*
***
Practitioner: “Was it an easy delivery?”
Wife: “I guess so, it was almost completely natural and over half an hour after I got to L&D.”
Me: “It was easy until the attending physician stuck both her hands up the Wife’s tunnel of love and tried to read a Chinese menu printed in Braille.”
Chaperone: *Strangled laughter*
***
Practitioner: “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some form of birth control other than condoms? We have a wide selection of more convenient…”
Wife: “No, I’m good. What we have works.”
Practitioner: “But…”
Me: “After seven years together you can bet if that child hadn’t been planned she wouldn’t be here now. We actually have figured out what causes babies and we’re careful.”
Chaperone: *Chuckles*
***
Practitioner: “Now that we’re finished, do you have any questions?”
Wife: “No, you’ve reassured me I still have a vagina so no questions.”
Me: “Yeah, I have one. Is it normal for a four-month-old baby to roll herself across the floor so she can chase the kat?”
Practitioner: “What?”
Chaperone: *Laughter* “That one will be walking soon and early.”
Fourth, it’s good to try and remember that a tiny four-month-old demon warrior princess does understand English, Spanish and probably a few other languages as well. When the child hears the words ‘like’, ‘boob’, ‘food’, and ‘eat’ used more or less together and in different languages and then uses one finger to point repeatedly into her mouth, it’s probably not coincidental. She’s politely saying she’s hungry and ready to eat. When she starts getting adamant by trying to stuff her fist into her mouth while making lip-smacking eating noises she’s just being sarcastic while questioning your basic ability to understand the simple things.
Last but not least no matter how crappy a day might be life is always going to provide some fodder for later writing. It might not be funny to you at the time, but you can look back on those moments and smile while you’re typing.
And no, this post isn’t about my health so much as a few observations made on a day when I would rather have stayed in the cave.
First, playing classical music while attempting to coax a four-month-old daughter into taking a nap after her second breakfast is not conducive to anyone’s ability to write, or do housework, or avoid drooling on the computer’s keyboard. Add in the child waking up abnormally early (for her) and the effect of classical music is zzzzzzzzzzz…
Second, when the four-month-old daughter rolls over to the mirror you have set up (so you can keep an eye on her) and she starts kissing the baby in the mirror, laughing is not a wise reaction. Tiny demon warrior princess has a sense of humor, but not necessarily about herself. If looks could kill…
Third, accompanying Wife with Daughter to an OB/GYN checkup (the post partum one was delayed due to factors beyond control), it’s best to avoid being a tired smartass. Young people early in their medical careers don’t always have enough experience to tell when you are and aren’t being serious.
***
Practitioner: “Are you experiencing any pain when having sex?”
Wife: “No, no problems.”
Me: “Only when she gets the handcuffs too tight or breaks out the whip because I was naughty.”
Chaperone: *Strangled snort*
***
Practitioner: “Was it an easy delivery?”
Wife: “I guess so, it was almost completely natural and over half an hour after I got to L&D.”
Me: “It was easy until the attending physician stuck both her hands up the Wife’s tunnel of love and tried to read a Chinese menu printed in Braille.”
Chaperone: *Strangled laughter*
***
Practitioner: “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some form of birth control other than condoms? We have a wide selection of more convenient…”
Wife: “No, I’m good. What we have works.”
Practitioner: “But…”
Me: “After seven years together you can bet if that child hadn’t been planned she wouldn’t be here now. We actually have figured out what causes babies and we’re careful.”
Chaperone: *Chuckles*
***
Practitioner: “Now that we’re finished, do you have any questions?”
Wife: “No, you’ve reassured me I still have a vagina so no questions.”
Me: “Yeah, I have one. Is it normal for a four-month-old baby to roll herself across the floor so she can chase the kat?”
Practitioner: “What?”
Chaperone: *Laughter* “That one will be walking soon and early.”
Fourth, it’s good to try and remember that a tiny four-month-old demon warrior princess does understand English, Spanish and probably a few other languages as well. When the child hears the words ‘like’, ‘boob’, ‘food’, and ‘eat’ used more or less together and in different languages and then uses one finger to point repeatedly into her mouth, it’s probably not coincidental. She’s politely saying she’s hungry and ready to eat. When she starts getting adamant by trying to stuff her fist into her mouth while making lip-smacking eating noises she’s just being sarcastic while questioning your basic ability to understand the simple things.
Last but not least no matter how crappy a day might be life is always going to provide some fodder for later writing. It might not be funny to you at the time, but you can look back on those moments and smile while you’re typing.
