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We never intended to have gray & white cats. Seriously. My spouse is fond of black cats, and I had no real preference. A few years ago, however, we found ourselves in possession of THREE identically decorated beasts. Three? Yes, well, we never intended to have 3 cats, either. Before we embarked on parenthood, I offered my spouse a deal: we could have a child, or we could have a third cat. But not both. Our daughter is now 16. However, what I didn’t factor in my ultimatum were the child’s wishes. Funny how that happens. When Lilly-Karin was in elementary school, she decided that since Mom & Dad each had a cat, she needed one. After some discussion, I capitulated. However, I said we couldn’t get a gray and white one. Our last two acquisitions (from two different shelters) were that color. Enough, I thought. What are the odds? Well, Mr. Lukas came along. He was found by some construction workers and brought to the Oakland shelter. He was a mere wisp of a feline. A tiny ball of gray and white fur. Ha! We fell in love. Little did we know, he was Maine Coon, or possibly a MC and Norwegian Forest Cat mix. In any event, he turned out to be HUGE. So we found ourselves with three. It caused some confusion among the neighbors, who could never really tell just how many cats we add. There was always one prowling the street, or sunbathing in the yard, or running up to greet us. Our middle cat, Ratrani, died in early 2017. Mr. Lukas passed away just after Christmas, leaving us with our matriarch, Elin. Well, that wasn’t sufficient. So by and by we found ourselves with new kittens, Decaf (AKA the Panther) and Cheerios. Back to three. At least this time, we thought, they were distinctive. Elin never really connected with the kittens. They were too fast, too feral, and didn’t respect her rights to the couch (and laps) of the humans. Still, she kept her dignity and insisted on directing the house, especially around meal times. This past Thursday, Elin ate breakfast, crawled under my desk, and refused to leave my side for several hours. Around noon, I found her in the kitchen, panting (never a good sign with cats). A quick trip to the ER confirmed that her heart was failing. She passed away soon thereafter, closing the door on our gray and white chapter. I’m sure in some other realm Elin, Ratrani, and Mr. Lukas are sharing a couch, as long as the sun is warm and the humans are nearby.
After more than 18 months of actively searching for a new gig, I finally gave notice at Kyocera. My last day was Thursday, October 18, 2018. So I managed three and a half years out in Concord.
I had given myself Friday to decompress before starting a new contract on Monday, October 22, at Kaiser Permanente. However, things didn’t work out that way. While there wasn’t any issue with my background check, or my drug screening, or my education reference, the IT group couldn’t commit to completing my account and hardware setup by that date. The slight irony here is that I took a role with Kaiser IT. But hey, everybody takes a number and waits their turn. Especially when you’re a contractor. So they told me to wait. Then they said Wednesday. Then they said I might as well take the weekend and we’ll start fresh on Monday. New week and all, etc. So I ended up with a sort of vacation. Got in some reading, did some house projects. Drafted a new flash piece. I also worried a bit. For reasons:
So what am I doing as a Technical Consultant in User Engagement and Enablement? Herding cats, basically. Updating the IT group’s WordPress sites, writing copy, tweaking workflows, doing meetings (lots of those), helping with strategy, advocating for users. You know, general web stuff. If all goes well, the contract will turn into a regular gig. In the meantime, I’m…
- Figuring out the best configuration of limited parking optionsLooking to take the bus a few days/weekWorking from HOME on Fridays. Huzzah! Seriously, this group likes to be away. They gifted me with a dedicated remote access point so my laptop thinks it’s directly connected to mothership whenever I take it home.Extending my insurance with COBRA because it was actually cheaper than getting coverage from the contracting agency. Jeez.Making myself useful. I brought Finnish chocolate and Swedish tea this week.Dialing down the snark to appropriate levels
Does this mean I can’t decorate my cubicle with swords?
I had a pile of laundry to iron the other night, so I fired up Solo (A Star Wars Story). It was one of those films I wanted to see, but didn’t manage to catch it in the theatre.
After an hour, I finished the laundry. And then I turned off the movie.
More to the point, I switched over to a BBC nature documentary, which had maybe 5% of Solo‘s shooting budget but a much more compelling set of characters. And story.
There’s the rub.
Solo isn’t a bad movie, but it didn’t engage me. It certainly didn’t pack the punch of Rogue One, which had a set of (mostly) unknown characters and a we-knew-it-was-coming ending. We all went along with the ride since it was a ride. The characters had agency, they had conflict, they had cool stuff to do.
In contrast, Solo started with a vehicle chase, shoved in some quick background, attached another vehicle chase, then quickly flittered to war scene/montage/introduction of cool kids and THEN A TRAIN ROBBERY.
I didn’t care. And I was annoyed at the level of expository dialog that felt like the writers (and I’m sure there were many) were checking all the Star Wars boxes:
- Solo wants to be a pilot
- Solo does the “thermal detonator” trick
- Chewbacca needs a nickname. Why not “Chewie”?
- The Millenium Falcon is won in a card game. Or is it?
- There’s a Kessel run.
- Et cetera.
Two of the most interesting characters were killed early in the process, leaving some rather second-string folks to carry the show. (Okay, I’ll give props to Donald Glover for his turn as Lando Calrissian. But poor Paul Bettany – someone told him to BE EVIL, OKAY?)
I didn’t read reviews beforehand, or troll the film blogs, and perhaps that was a mistake. If I had known about the director swap, the rewrites, and the reshoots, I probably would have set my expectations accordingly. As it was, I thought I was going to get a high-quality popcorn flick that played off my nostalgia and (maybe) brought something new to the table.
The takeaway for me is focus in storytelling. Pick an angle, a theme, a character. Run with those. Give your audience something to care about, and then drag them along. Hell, they’ll come willingly.
Second, don’t be afraid to walk away when it doesn’t deliver. The BBC is always there with life and death struggles of snow leopards in the Himalayas.
Ironically enough, my appearance in the new anthology, Strange Economics, was delayed due to… production problems. Things didn’t arrive on time, or in the wrong format, and printing was delayed, which meant we missed launching during Worldcon (and my birthday). Oh well.
But now everything is back on track and you can have your very own copy. Get the physical version and I’ll sign it (if we meet) or send you a nice thank you note. Something. Seriously. I was tickled to find this Kickstarter project and even more pleased that they decided to give a home to my leprechaun mafia.
The original title for this post was “living in a science-fiction world” but I changed my mind since this isn’t Fiction but reality here in California.
Today I did the semi-annual maintenance on the house solar panels. That starts with cutting back the clumping bamboo we planted to give my daughter’s room some shade and privacy. It works well, but once the bamboo crests the edge of the roof it starts growing over the solar panels so it has to be tamed. Once I’ve cleared a path, I check the gray water connections to the laundry.
Then I perch myself on a ladder, wash down the panels, and capture all that runoff into rain barrels, which I use to water the Japanese maple tree out front. Otherwise, I let it soak the bamboo so it does its thing.
Finally, I rake and sweep and generally tidy up, collecting everything for composting. (More importantly, I cut back/disguise all the plants that were, ah, damaged during my efforts).
So next month, the city will do its audit, and if it’s been another dry year, all that extra sunlight will mean I’ve produced more electricity that I consumed. I’ll get a rebate check.
And probably buy more bamboo. It’s easier than a lawn.
In my post-Worldcon funk, I had to deal with an interesting ethical dilemma.
Last night, my daughter complained that she was getting “bug bites” and feeling frustrated with her new school schedule (plus the difficulty of returning to school after summer and surgery). My wife and I went for a walk, and when we returned, we found our daughter in something of a panic, with all manner of skin irritations.
Now we do have 3 cats, and one of them spends a lot of time outside, but I didn’t think we had suffered a massive flea infestation. Spiders? Mites? Bad-tempered pixies?
So we moved her to the study and began cleaning her room, washing all the bedding and stuffed animals and getting ready to spray the floor. But then we realized a simpler answer might be at hand: drug reaction. For the past week, my daughter had been taking a prophylactic dose of antibiotics to deal with what appeared to be a minor infection following her jaw surgery.
A quick internet search confirmed that this particular drug had certain less common side effects, including hives and (rarely) irritability. Ah ha. We called an advice nurse, who hooked us up to a doctor, who then prescribed some countermeasures.
This morning, the teen was in better shape, but needed to rest, so my wife began re-arranging her schedule so she could keep an eye on things. I went off to work.
And felt miserable. I work remotely 2 days a week, but this wasn’t one of those days. I had no project deadlines. So I sat there, worrying about my child and our loss of income (my wife is self employed). Finally, I told my manager I was heading home to do remote work for the rest of the day.
The dilemma: my work at home schedule is an experiment, and I’d already pushed the issue during my daughter’s surgery and recovery time (since I couldn’t take enough vacation time to cover everything). Doing it again so soon after my Worldcon vacation might bring unwanted attention to me, and that’s never a good idea at a traditional Japanese firm. Conformity and consistency are safe. Doing your own thing (even if you meet your goals) is dangerous.
While I have a responsibility to contribute income (and health insurance) to the household, I also have to be a parent. The choice was difficult. And clear.
You have to work, but how you work is up to you.
Actually, I got TWO. Purchased the official tee (below) and won a very cool Escape Pod shirt during their live podcast.
Why did I buy a shirt? It was something of a reward for standing in line for > 90 minutes on Thursday afternoon to get my badge. Ugh. I attended San Jose Comic Con in the same location a few months before, and those lines were never bad. (There’s something to be said for mailing tickets to early registrants.)
So, having arrived a bit later than expected, and spending far too much time getting my hotel/badge, I had to update my plans.
2 – 4 PM –
Panels on fighting and historical fencing (for novel research) Standing in lines
4 – 6 PM – Volunteer duty at the SFWA Suite at the Fairmont. Set up all the beer and soft drinks. Emptied out the ice machines on the 6th and 5th floors!
For dinner, I met up with fellow Viable Paradise alum, Katrina Archer, and some of her friends, but our intended destination, Mezcal, was hosting a company event so they couldn’t accommodate 7 people. (I learned that 6 is a magic number for restaurants. Anything more than that requires a serious sacrifice and early reservations.) We ended up at Élyse, a French/Vietnamese place. Great food and excellent service.
8 am – SFWA business meeting. The convention center didn’t open its doors at 8, so we had to wait until someone came down and unlocked an entrance for us. Fortunately, everyone else was delayed and there was still breakfast.
A chunk of the meeting addressed the whiney puppy protest (and counter-protest) scheduled for Saturday. There were contingencies and Secret Plans in place, and best we simply ignored the instigator should we encounter him. (As it turns out, the guy did try to crash the event, and was turned away most soundly.)
10 am – Main exhibit area – One of my favorite publishers, NESFA, had a table running. Some years ago at ConJose, I purchased a copy of Norstrilia from them. Now I scanned the complete hardcover collection of Roger Zelazny short fiction and dreamed of my next bonus check.
I also had the pleasure of helping my friend Rosemary Claire Smith, writer of dinosaur stories, get ready for her professional portrait by the talented Richard Man. (He did my picture at the Nebulas a few years back.)
Rosemary and I were Team Red this year:
11 am – Book contract panel. SRO for this one. Some nice reminders about sample contracts and keeping your eyes on the reversion of rights clauses.
2 PM – SFWA Suite – Met up with my mentor for the day, Julia Rios, the amazing editor (Uncanny Magazine/Fireside Fiction/Strange Horizons). Julia and I had crossed paths at Worldcon 75 in Helsinki, and she was familiar with my Fireside Fiction flash story, “We Who Stay Behind.”
Julia and I had a great talk about my current WIP, general life challenges, and my writing process. She raised some very interesting questions about my choice of setting for my proposed novel, and helped me get things in perspective. (Sunday night, she would win a Hugo for her editorial work. So I guess can say I knew her before she was famous.)
6 PM – pre-birthday dinner. Two of my compatriots from Paradise Lost – Beth Morris Tanner and Rosemary – plus their friend David D. Levine (author of Arabella of Mars) joined me for dinner at a Greek place, Nemea. We actually started with 7 people, but that broke the reservation system, so three folks went off on their own.
Decent food but the band was too loud.
Later that night, fellow Bay Area writer and baker extraordinaire, Effie Seiberg, stopped by hotel room for a nightcap. She and her partner (Jason) brought me Game of Thrones’ swag from the George R.R. Martin interview up in Redwood City as an early birthday gift.
Incidentally, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that my best friend Dan Malcor sent me Spider Robinson books before Worldcon, so he gets First Birthday Gift award.
10 am – Escape Pod – Live! What a great panel. I had the chance to meet and listen to the editors and voice talent for Escape Pod, Pseudo Pod, and Drabblecast as they celebrated their Hugo nomination with a live reading plus CAKE by Effie. Birthday cake before noon – rice crispy treats, pretzels, chocolate!
2 PM – In Memoriam: Harlan Ellison. Another SRO event, in a larger space. They could have filled the main ball room, I suspect. I arrived 20 minutes early and managed to get a seat. Even GRRM had to sit against the back row.
The panelists included Robert Silverberg, David Gerrold, two other writers I didn’t know, a photographer, and Nat Segaloff, who last year published the authorized biography of Harlan.
The whole hour was funny and profane, somber and sweet. My own small experience with Harlan was donating to one of his large lawsuits against an early ISP who didn’t act against people pirating and posting his work. Harlan won that lawsuit, and paid back most of the money to his supporters. “Good faith money,” I think he said. It was paying it forward, in my mind, and for years I kept his postcards on my bulletin board next to my word processor.
After that emotional time, I wandered down to the Dealer Room and saw that Kelly Robson was signing. Unfortunately, Borderland Books had run out of her novel, so I asked her to sign a book plate for my birthday. She told me she had one copy left and it needed a good home:
Also had a surprise birthday granola “cake” from Waypoint Kangaroo author, Curtis Chen.
4:30 PM –
The Fated Sky launch party Nope. By the time I got through the Dealer Room, I needed a quick rest (standing a lot) before walking over to dinner.
6:00 PM – Birthday dinner at The Spaghetti Factory. The best and worst part of my weekend. Despite our reservations, the restaurant failed to anticipate the crush, and we languished for more than an hour before getting even the generic salads. Our host, a family member of a local writer, picked up our bar tab (huzzah!), but mediocre pasta wasn’t worth it.
What saved the night was the conversation. I was surrounded by smart, funny people: entertainment accountants, attorneys, artists, and plenty o’ writers. One of them is the foremost expert on the Klingon language. They sang “Happy Birthday” to me when the waiters ignored us, and I taught them the Swedish version.
Late night: crammed into the SFWA suite at the Fairmont, where I met a writer and her spouse who had just moved back from Spain, and connected with the legendary writer and editor Eileen Gunn. When we were introduced, I told Eileen that we had met earlier in San Antonio at a writing workshop. She thought for a moment, and said, “I don’t remember the story exactly, but I remember that it was very good.”
I could live on that compliment for a month.
The evening ended with a surprise birthday beer from Athens, Georgia, hand-delivered by Sandy Parsons, whom I met last year in Helsinki:
10 am – Viable Paradise alumni brunch. A goodly horde of us descended on a hipster eatery, Social Policy. I had already eaten at the hotel, so I settled for some homemade bread, butter, and green tea. Oh, and a little bit of this draught, courtesy of a Finnish writer:
Noon – 5 PM
TBD, but probably SFWA suite, writing, and souvenir shopping.
I didn’t make it to any more panels, but picked up a signed book from David Gerrold, some themed soaps for Lilly-Karin, and a few cool Japanese glasses for Elizabeth.
Since Monday was a working day (and my daughter started back at school), I decided to skip the Sunday night festivities. Congrats to all the nominees and winners! It was a truly excellent slate this year.
I know I’m forgetting some events, and certainly some people. Cons do that to your brain, especially when you’re trying to have a birthday in the middle of one.
Author/Editor bingo (alpha order)
- Andy Duncan
- Curtis Chen
- David Gerrold
- Eileen Gunn
- George R R Martin
- Greg Bear
- Greg Benford
- Joe and Gay Haldeman
- John Joseph Adams
- Kelly Robson
- Larry Niven
- Mary Robinette Kowal
- Navah Wolfe
- Neil Clarke
- Patrick Nielsen Hayden
- Rachel Swirsky
- Robert Silverberg
- Spencer German Ellsworth
- Spider Robinson
- Teresa Nielsen Hayden
And my fellow less-famous writers (for now):
- Benjamin Phillip
- Effie Seiberg
- Rosemary Claire Smith
- Beth Morris Tanner
- The Lauras
- Karen Birkedahl Rylander
- SB Divya
- Katrina Archer
- Danielle Burkhart
- Chris Cornell
- and many others
Special shout outs to the SFWA gang: Cat Rambo, Terra LeMay, Kate Baker, Kellan Szpara, and Lawrence Schoen!
Arrived home to find another much-appreciated birthday gift of Swedish matches from my thoughtful cousin, Anna-Karin:
and a very purring Decaf:
Okay, that’s enough for now.
Due to recent stressful events in Mundane Reality, I’m keeping my Worldcon schedule pretty loose. I’m not appearing on any panels, but here’s where you can generally find me.
I’ll be arriving midday, and then dropping off stuff at my local base (Hyatt).
2 – 4 PM – Panels on fighting and historical fencing (for novel research)
4 – 6 PM – Volunteer duty at the SFWA Suite at the Fairmont. If you’re not attending the opening ceremonies, drop by!
Thursday night is OPEN for dinner, drinks, bar con. Ping me on Twitter, FB, or email.
8 am – SFWA business meeting
10 am – Main exhibit area
11 am – Book contract panel
2 PM – SFWA Suite (event)
4 PM – Skulking about the autographing area
6 PM – pre-birthday dinner. Join me!
10 am – Escape Pod – Live
2 PM – In Memoriam: Harlan Ellison
4:30 PM – The Fated Sky launch party
6:00 PM – Birthday dinner and general writerly stuff
10 am – Viable Paradise alumni brunch
Noon – 5 PM
TBD, but probably SFWA suite, writing, and souvenir shopping.
This month features two important events: Worldcon in San Jose and the publication of Strange Economics, an anthology that explores the economic underpinnings of common SF and F tropes. Deal with the devil? Taxes in Fairyland? Got you covered. The book’s at the printer, so I hope to have an ordering link VERY SOON.
(Oh, it’s also my birthday month. If you’d like to get me a present, buy this puppy! I’ll send along a bookplate, or sign it in person if I see you at Worldcon.)
I recently received some copies of Metaphorosis magazine’s annual anthology (which features one of my trunk stories). As usual, I’ll put one copy on the brag shelf and mail another to my old partner-in-crime, John, a retired professor of American History.
We met in grad school. We worked in the same campus office, both of us sweating through our classes and research, trying to make it to the finish line before our tuition credits evaporated. Our boss, the University Librarian, was a former Ambassador to England, former history professor, and all-around blowhard.
Hard work but good times. John introduced me to photography, beat poetry, and decaf espresso. I shared my love of science fiction and British humor.
After graduation, John took a job at a low-budget publishing house, and I joined him for a bit. When the parent company was bought by another, bigger publisher, we all got fired and sought our fortunes elsewhere. John went on to teach in Bakersfield and I disappeared into IT.
A few years later, John re-married, and invited me to photograph the ceremony (a task he performed at my own wedding). Years passed, and we fell out of touch, even with that new-fangled interweb.
When I began selling my stories on a more regular basis, I tried to reconnect with John. But he stopped responding to his old university email account. I mailed the occasional letter or story to his house, but heard nothing for years.
Finally, John’s wife Lori sent me an email. She told me that my old friend—a great bear of a man, a keen researcher, a talented writer, and generous soul—was now living in a full-time care facility due to the effects of Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s. He could no longer read or write without great difficulty.
Now, John is not an old man; he’s perhaps 15 years my senior. I can only imagine how hard it must be for him.
His short-term memory is pretty bad, but he can cast back 30 years without straining himself. And that’s about the time we were working side by side.
So when Lori gets one of my packages, she brings it to John and reads it to him. He closes his eyes and hears that brash young man in the words, and smiles, and talks about how much he appreciates my work.
We all need such fans.