Poll #1488271 My First Poll!
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 2

Should I sign up for a marathon?

Happy Birthday to dreambrother89!

But I think things are calming down. There are two people I'd like to kill, and two of my faves are leaving on Friday (one to have her baby, but since she's another contractor there's no guarantee that she'll come back).

I did spend some time on Sunday taking notes on the Pangborn story and I got some of my research material. Now I can learn all about Curtiss Jennies. I'm going to reschedule the research trip for next week. If anybody knows anything about Houston in 1924, give a hollar.

The Shockmonster is, appropriately enough, getting shockwave treatment for his foot. I have a feeling that surgery is still in his future, though.

His doctor seems very good. There are a bunch of signed magazine covers in his examining room. Runner's World, mags like that, signed by the cover boys and girls, with inscriptions that generally gush something along the lines of, "Thank you for keeping my dream alive!"

But the man has no sense of humor. I'm not sure I trust him. I don't think you *can* trust someone with no sense of humor.

It's been a jam-packed week. Two physics classes because the professor will be out for two weeks so we're doing our make-up classes ahead of time. The second session of Author's Boot Camp. Another class up in Oakland tomorrow--basically Fun with Resin.

That's the good.

The bad--no research trip to the airport. Instead, lots of time spent doing the work of other people, because they evidently don't believe they need to do it themselves.

Tech writers are the Rodney Dangerfield of the technical world--they get no respect. Apparently not even from engineers who are currently working as tech writers. Everything that makes a book look professional and actually communicate on a broader level than just what particular button is being pushed at a particular time (and ask me sometime about the Suck On and Blow Off buttons) is Piddly Shit (tm) to them, but it's the piddly shit that makes us look like amateurs and causes users to write us off. "Damned writers for the damned company can't even spell. Why should I trust anything else in the damned manual?"

Ahem. So that's what I've been doing. Somebody else's cleanup pass. A couple of somebodies, as a matter of fact. Deadlines, you know.

Back to good--the Shockmonster and I were walking back to the car after class today and saw three huge, sweet, beautiful, neatly groomed Bernese mountain dogs with very gracious owners. I got to say hi to all of them.

Well, off to bed. I have to catch the first BART out of Union City to make it to Oakland in time.

If you needed any other reason to be turned off by organized religion right now:

Here's an interesting question to ponder.

My very bright, poetry-writing, English-lit-major-who-graduated-from-Wellesley co-worker has been taking a Stanford Continuing Ed writing class. She's been talking to me about it quite a bit and it's quite interesting. She's never written a short story before. (That's her claim, though I find it hard to believe she got through all sixteen years of school without being assigned to write a short story somewhere along the line. If that's true, it's very sad.)

She's a shy perfectionist and hasn't shown me her story, though she's just about killed herself to write it. She has shown me a few of the stories handed in by other people in the class. Bleh. Now, I'm not saying this solely because I despise navel-gazing pseudo profundity, although I do. I'm saying it because the stuff she showed me actually did suck.

And why shouldn't it? Why shouldn't hers, really, though I doubt it's as bad as what I read. This is a class, these folks are trying out new things, figuring stuff out. I looked at the first drafts her classmates had handed in for critique. The other students would discuss them during class and the writers would take that feedback and go away and rewrite.

Somebody--don't ask me who--said something along the lines that the novel just written isn't really a definitive lesson in how to write novels, because each novel is different and demands to be written in a different fashion.

Or, to put it another way, each piece of writing is a writing class all by itself.

Yes, I'm babbling. So what am I babbling about?

I think I'm babbling because I need to have more fun writing again, and I always liked school.

Long ago I promised my sister that I'd write a story and make Clyde Pangborn the hero. Not enough people have heard of Clyde Pangborn, frankly, and that's a shame.

In 1931, Clyde and Hugh Herndon (who was not much help during the actual flying part, believe me, but came from enough money to bankroll projects) made the first non-stop trans-Pacific flight. Is that not worthy of note? Not only that, but to reduce weight he rigged the Bellanca he and Herndon were flying so that they could drop the landing gear into the Pacific after take-off (figuring a belly landing in a field much preferable to touching wheels down on water) but--get this--one strut didn't come off. So he wing-walked out there at 11000 feet and took it off by hand. Clyde was also an old-time barnstormer and a hellaciously good pilot.

They landed in East Wenatchee, WA after 40 some hours of flight, which is where my sister comes in. She worked for the Wenatchee Valley Museum and Cultural Center for many, many years, and Clyde is her man.

But I've got to do some research before I can get this one down. So I'm playing hooky from work on Thursday to head up to the Hiller Air Museum and wallow in their library for a while.

I'm also looking at going up to Wenatchee to visit my sister, plus her buddies who restore planes.

I think I'm a research junkie.

Had a pretty darned interesting day today.

The Shockmonster and I attended the first day of a two-day seminar: Author's Boot Camp, run by Scott Siglar and Seth Harwood. They are a pretty darned entertaining pair, if nothing else, and I think there is something else. Though YMMV.

They teach a model of "free content->audience->book deal," with free content translating mainly into episode (aka chapter)-based releases of novels (or short stories after you get the audience). They also stress that their path requires a definite investment of time, a little money, and considerable effort. Don't even think about making any money until you get a couple of podcast books under your belt, and even then don't really bother with ads on your site, since you don't yet have a brand, you (and/or your identity as a novelist) don't have any particular products associated with you, and you wouldn't get enough hits to justify cluttering up your site anyway.

They feel that finding an audience of podcast listeners is a numbers game that basically anyone with a decent book can win right now, since even a modest online audience is so much larger than a good print audience that you don't need a huge percentage of your podcast listeners to follow the book into print to impress a publisher and get a book deal.

Both have followed this path to hardcover deals with a major publisher, so something must have worked for them.

I'd guess that an important part of that something for both of them is their senses of humor, their loquaciousness, their sociability, and their speed at generating content. This method is not for the Pynchons or the Salingers, that's for sure. It would take a considerable effort for me to convince myself I have enough interesting stuff to post on a blog that I wouldn't mislead readers into thinking they'd suddenly developed narcolepsy. Plus all those backwards QWERTY impressed into foreheads would look really weird.

A few other things to consider:

1. You are totally responsible for the quality of your work. No edits from agents or editors.

2. As mentioned before, this is an investment of time, effort, and a little money, and you can't expect returns right away. Plus if your book sucks, you'll never get returns. On the other hand, isn't that what we're doing right now, without getting a chance to develop an audience? (Yeah, yeah, sell short fiction. Not working? Sell *more* short fiction.)

Anyway, I know a lot of you podcast stuff already, but afaik they're mostly interviews or you sell something to EscapePod or PseudoPod or PodCastle or a podcast antho. And a lot of you are already selling books the good old-fashioned way. So you may already know about this particular take on it, or you may read my description in utter horror. I'd like to hear about either response. Or if you think this is old news, you can just point me to some online debates and go about your business. I admit I haven't been keeping up too well lately.

So--What do you guys think?

To post about WFC, that is? Not because it wasn't a grand time, because it was.

To be honest, I wasn't particularly looking forward to it, because it's always embarrassing to be a has-been-who-never-was in a group of is-es, if you catch my drift. But:

1) The is-es are all my friends, and I got to see some of my favorite peoples in the whole world, peoples I haven't seen for a while. And some other favorite peoples I've seen more recently, but still not enough. And people who are favorite people because of their blogs, but whom I'd never actually met before. And people who I can't say are favorites, but only because I don't know them very well and likely never will because they are intimidating as hell, be this time we actually held *gasp* a conversation. More on that later.

And:

2) I volunteered for programming and a reading, and I didn't get the programming but I did get a reading--the first of the con. And it went rather well. Roach, if you're out there I read a bit of Etta Mae. I still love her. I kept joking that I'd been given the first slot so that people who hadn't made it in yet wouldn't miss the writers they actually wanted to hear, but through the con other people kept mentioning that it was almost like I'd opened the convention, and--holy cow, if you looked in the pocket program there I was, very first. Weird and giggly time, but fun.

And finally:

3) I got the Shockmonster to come for an afternoon! He had lunch and dinner with friends, and hung out for a time in the afternoon with another person we both miss tremendously and had one of his buddies from a novel-writing workshop tell him, "I really want to see what you do with that novel," while standing right next to an editor (Jim Mintz). The Shockmonster, of course, did not know that Mintz was an editor. I love my boy.

As for the conversation with the intimidating one--well, I went to the F&SF party and Gordon came over to me--let me repeat that--GORDON CAME OVER TO ME. He wanted to tell me that Catska Ench really liked "The Lightning Bug Wars," but even after that we kept an actual conversation going for a bit before it became a bit too obvious that I was flailing, and I got him to agree to let Zoe draw on the next story I send him before he sends it back.

AND--AND--

I HAVE A STORY! I'm going to write it, goddammit! The arc is in my head (except some research) and it's going to be good.

No novel this month. Story. That's better than it's been going.

Last small note--in one conversation with one favorite person, we discovered that we're on the same drug and he's having some of the same problems I'm having with brain-dedness. Let me just say that while this knowledge does not banish the brain-deds, a clearer, more suspicious view of the attendant guilt and shame makes the brain-deds much easier to deal with.

So--quite a good con. Jolly good, in fact.

The rules: Don’t take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you’ve read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes.

This was on FB and I hope will show up there. I think I turned that on. I'm not quite sure. Anyway, before I get to it--I am the kind of person who always, *always* breaks chain letters, and who never tags someone else to pass on a meme because I don't want to impose. Keep that in mind. When I get back to FB and tag people, it will be for informational purposes only.

( List under the cut )

So, has my list taught me anything? Just that I read them all a long time ago and I think that's sad. I don't read enough anymore.

She's my roly-poly miss
Give my miss a little kiss
She's my fluffy kitty miss
Kitty miss you can't resist

Damn. I should have had kids. If only to keep PETA off my back.

But first, check out the new icon. God, I love this picture. The hunk of raw meat ain't going nowhere, but Odin from Six Flags up in Vallejo doesn't give a flying whatever. He's all business. He's all tiger. (Image snurched from Yahoo News.)

Now, links.

First of all, some pretty horrific (or as my buddy from work called them, "really revolting") harvesting machines. Turn down the cheesy soundtrack and stick with it until you get to the mandibles of the felling and debarking machine.

Very disturbing.

Next (for my Numb3rs buddies, especially):

The Unbearable Weirdness of Being a Non-Newtonian Fluid on a Speaker Cone

That's about it for now. Crater Lake pictures have been added to the list of all the pictures I haven't put up yet.

But to whomever got me a Ladies Home Journal subscription--

I'm glad it enabled you to get the annoying high school kid off your porch or the obnoxious telemarketer off the phone, but--no. Just no.

New Scientist, maybe, or The Economist. The Week is at least entertaining. But not Ladies Home Journal. Just keep that in mind for next time, okay?

And to whomever got me on the Scientology mailing list--

THAT'S NOT FUNNY!

I'd take good care of it, honest. I'd show it a good time. I mean, Crater Lake! What's more romantic than that? We'd only be gone a couple of days--driving up Thursday and coming back Sunday.

Thanks!

is here:

http://www.taylorwhite.org/.

Not much yet, though I don't suppose much more than the address is truly necessary. I've volunteered my and Gary's services to spruce the site up but I need to lead off with some funds. Gary didn't go; I don't know about other airlines, but Alaska Airline's bereavement discount is a joke. I'd rather the foundation get that money.

The trip was as good as such a trip can be. The first day was sunny and warm, the view of the surrounding mountains a hint and a reminder of why people choose to live there. The next two days were drizzly and gray, a hint and a reminder of why *very* brightly-colored flowers are so popular in local gardens. I took Karly, Kevin's black lab, running in the woods with me once. She's better bear deterrent than spray, and the second-best-behaved dog I've ever met--the first being Britte, Kevin's yellow lab, gone now almost a decade, I think. Cesar Milan has nothing on Kevin.

The service was nice. The person conducting it was named Dye, swear to god, and maybe that's an unfortunate homophone and maybe not. Taylor's classmates were most impressive. Not only had they continued dropping in to visit Kevin and Carol since the accident, they created a slideshow to play at the funeral, one girl wrote and performed a surprisingly good song for Taylor, two boys played a violin duet, and five kids spoke. The saddest to me was the twin of the boy who had been driving--he had given his sister a message to read. Some parents would blame him, be angry at him, but I never heard that from Kevin and Carol. I don't feel that, either--Taylor had also been drinking, it could have been Taylor driving, Taylor might just as easily been the one air-lifted to Seattle with a punctured lung (among other things) and the boy the one the car landed on. Now Taylor is the lesson, the other boy the lesson learned too late.

A death--especially of one so young--is time for reflection, of course, and I've been doing my share, but that's for another post. Now what I'm reflecting on is the fact that my brother is living through Father's Day with a newly-dead son.

First, thank you, everyone. I'll try to but a more personal spin on that thought soon, but not right now.

Second, I'm heading out to Juneau tomorrow morning. Taylor was scheduled to get back from Anchorage last night and the service will be at The Chapel by the Lake on Friday. His folks are starting the Taylor White Foundation for Advancing Our Community, aka The Taylor White Foundation for Trying to Keep Dumbass Kids From Killing Themselves. I think I'm going to make that my permanent charity (well, that and the Planetary Society and the ASPCA).

I'll be back on Sunday. Not taking the laptop, so email will be by the grace of any local computer owners I may run across.

Last time I spoke to Kevin he didn't sound so good. He said he'd made the mistake of looking at Taylor's last yearbook the night before and hadn't slept. Haven't heard from Carol since the first time I called, when she answered with, "Hi, Lori," then, "He's gone, Lori," then, "I'd better let you talk to your brother." I think I talked to Carol's brother for a few moments when he answered the phone (southern accent) and persisted in calling me Marie after he misheard my name.

That was a little freaky; Marie was Mom. I don't really believe this, but perhaps that was a sign that Mom has taken over, and is bitching out the little twit for being a little twit. She was good at that.

Taylor Bristol White, 1990-2009. Not wearing his seatbelt.

I don't know what this will do to his parents. He was adopted and an only child. He gave every indication of growing up into a good person, but he was the kind of adolescent boy whose brain went on hiatus when puberty hit and he's been causing his Kevin and Carol a world of grief for years now.

Anyway--the first round of family phone calls is over. I thought I'd have to rush up to Juneau, but the circumstances of his death require an autopsy, so I won't go for probably another week.

It's so weird. Mitch (Brother #1) called Kevin and then called me back and talked about "the body". When I called Kevin, it was very obvious that Taylor was still present to them somehow.

I talked to Taylor Sunday, before his high school graduation. He was supposed to go to Montana State. There's good skiing around there. He was supposed to come visit. He's never been here.

Hug your loved ones and wear your seatbelts, people.

Gee, too bad I can't ask my nephew any more.

Time to get Prop 8 overturned. ASAP.

I discovered that the person most responsible for shoving me out of a work position I was fully committed while I was out of the country and couldn't really do anything about it wants experience in such matters--probably because it's a very marketable skill to have.

Hmmm. How surprising.