The kitten who came in from minigolf

So what’s the last thing a Sarah needs on a month with two cons?  You guessed it.  Another Kitten to train, right?  And integrate into the house?

Just before RWA and World Con we went minigolfing.  On the course was a little cat — starved, FILTHY (I’ve never seen a cat that filthy.  The "then" picture was after baths with normal kitten shampoo, Gojo AND Dawn dish soap (All recommended by our vet.)  Before that he looked yellow.  Take kitten, dip him in vat of corn oil.  Let him dry.  Rub some crisco on him.  When we got him, he looked about like that.  It further took three rubbings with corn startch and brushing out to make his fur stop clumping.  He was, our vet said, seven to eight months.  He’s been with us… three?  And he is a total brat.  He lives, as my older son says, in a permanent state of hunger, but then he’s grown a lot (both directions.)  He has a permanent purr and thinks EVERYTHING and everyone is a toy.  He has some sort of fight going on with D’Artagnan over Euclid’s affections.  (I’m SO not going there.  There are TWO girl cats in this house.   Well, they’re all NOMINAL girl and boys, but still…)  I think I’m breaking them of NOISY fighting.  A clap of hands usually does it.  NOT ON the cats, you sillies.  Just mid-air. Though I’ll admit particularly when they’re doing their fighting while I write "I have HAD enough of this," also brings instant, wide-eyed silence.

Anyway, attached are pictures of Havelock, aka Mr. Ridiculous Plume (his tail has a kink in the midle, so when he walks, it rotates.)  It’s really hard to get him with his eyes open these days, unless he’s begging for food. Continue reading “The kitten who came in from minigolf” →

I told you to watch this space

Everyone, attention, please!

Those in your various alternate forms, please resume human shape. 

Listen up.  I told you to watch this space.

I’m honored and humbled to announce that I’m part of a group blog with some wonderful writers:

Dave Freer

Laura Resnick

Louise Marley

Rowena Cory Daniells

The blog is called Mad Genius Club — writers division.

I supply the mad part of it, in case you wonder.  {G}

Monkey has his first post up, in advance:

http://madgeniusclub.blogspot.com/

And no, I’m in no way abandonning this blog, which will continue to be its normal mix of personal stuff (with occasional outbreaks of mini-onions (NOT MY mini-onions) in reply to it, videt multi-culti-tuttifrutti.  (And yes, Russell, if you are reading this, I AM very mean. : D ) writing, cats, and absurd events with occasional writing advice or complaints about how it is going.

HOWEVER the Mad Genius Club will be MOSTLY writing, so you might want to check it out.  This week, we’re introducing ourselves.

Go on, take a look.

Sarah

Holy Tectonic Plates, Batman!

So, you’re thinking, as you sit out there in the audience, chewing your gum – yes, I see you, did you bring enough to share with everyone? – and reading my blog so you can avoid getting any writing done,  you’re thinking "Once I get published, that’s it. I’ll know exactly what I’m doing, and everything will be perfect forever and ever amen."

Of course, if you’re already published, you’re probably aware that no elf came by with a magic wand and endowed you with the ability to write effortlessly. (If one did I don’t want to hear it. Lalalalalalalala.)

The truth is not just that it never ends. The truth is that it never stops being weird and painful. I’ve published now – counts on fingers – one, two three, seven, ten (removes shoes) fourteen novels, if you count a couple that are absolutely secret (if I told you they wouldn’t be secret, now, would they? However, the first bright boy or girl to come to my house, do the litter boxes, dust, sweep and cook dinner for the next week gets told the names and author name) and I’ve always been aware that there were things I didn’t do right.

Oh, come on, admit it, those of you who are writers know this. There’s things you can do, and things you can’t. You start out and – if you’re honest with yourself – you see all these huge flaws. You look at published stories and you wonder how the hell they do it. You know your stuff is not just different quantitatively – it’s not just "he does more of this" – but qualitatively. It’s a different beast altogether. You gape in wonder at the grownups stuff and you go "Oh, wow, if only I could write a story like THAT I’d be happy."

And you read and you study, you learn, you look for hints. And you collect your kicks in the… er… I mean rejections, advice letters and critiques. And you sit up in the cold, dark night and wonder if you’ll ever be a real writer and you know that when you get there, you’ll do everything perfectly and it will be EASY.

Continue reading “Holy Tectonic Plates, Batman!” →

Bowl of fruit

As some of you know, I’ve been taking art classes. Mostly because it forces me to use a completely different part of the brain. I’d got to a point in writing where I was SO tired nothing worked to rest . Not sleep. Not vacation. My mind was still fully occupied by whatever story had taken possession. (And sometimes it does feel just like that. They move in.)

One of the things I like about art class — other than being able to write again when I come out — is that it gives me some insight into how writing works, particularly for when I’m trying to teach others. Because, you see, I started so long ago that I’ve forgotten the process. In a way I’ve always been telling stories. (No, seriously. Ask my mom.)

Like… contrast. I’m a contrast wuss in art, which is apparently normal for beginners. It’s the same in fiction, if you think on it. Beginners avoid the extremely dark and the very light and PARTICULARLY avoid the very dark and the very light in close juxtaposition. Real pros, let alone the real artists use it all the time. Read your Shakespeare if you doubt me.

Continue reading “Bowl of fruit” →

Sorry I haven’t been blogging. Watch this space

a quick overview of our last two months would run somewhat like the end of Soap in the old times (though not with exactly these same questions, of course!  Er sort of.  Except the one about alien squirrels, natch.  That one is a hundred percent accurate.)

Will Sarah manage to escape the elevator where she’s been trapped by rabid alien squirrels?  Will Dan manage to hunt down the wild caribou infesting the house network?  Will Robert create the teleporter that will save the world from the giant black hole?  Will Eric manage to figure out how to brush his hair before being suffocated by dreadlocks?

Tune in next episode, for more on the Hoyt life…

Back to back to back to back to back

Sorry to leave so many things — including my “how to write” series — hanging for so long.  It’s just been back to back to back to back.  For the last two and a half weeks it’s been pack for con, go to con, deal with school re-start, pack for con, go to con, back to school bureaucracy and school shopping.  What it means is that my life came to a grinding halt for about a month, and I’m just now starting to wake up from it all.

In fact, I woke up this morning convinced I was late and needed to pack for a con.  Can cons become an habit?  I don’t know.

So, was it all worth it?  I don’t know.  Or rather I don’t know from a professional point of view.  From a personal point of view, absolutely, particularly worldcon.  I got to see friends I hadn’t seen in years — for the last eight years, mostly due to family things, I’ve done World Fantasy, instead of worldcon, and the two circuits have totaly different people — I got to connect with fans — well, the last time I attended, I didn’t have ANY — I got to see friends-who-happen-to-be-editors and publishers, I got to connect with the new pres. of SFWA who is a truly old friend (the first person to invite me to an antho), and I got to spend time with my lovely agent, not to mention other people’s agents — Onyxhawke, aka Mike Kabongo at worldcon and Jennifer Jackson at RWA (Jen being one of those friends I hadn’t seen in years and who happens to also be a professional.)  Oh, add to that that I learned a whole lot at the RWA panels.

At this point in my professional life, with projects stacked up ahead of me, this is probably the best I can hope for or even wish for.  And while I resent losing writing time, school starts on Monday — yay — and I can hopefully play some catchup then. :)

Sarah

My Worldcon schedule as is

Thurs.

10am — 74 Writers reading from their juvenilia
CCC – Room 501 –

1PM — 146 Kaffeeklatsch
CCC – Korbel 4E –

4pm — 195 Fandom and SF outside the English speaking world
CCC – Room 604 –

Friday

10am — 272 Shakespeare’s themes in SF
CCC – Korbel 1C –

11:30am — 301 Urban Fantasy: Still Room to Grow?
CCC – Korbel 3A –

4:45 — 402 Do younger fans still read Heinlein? Are the juvies dated?
CCC – Room 503 –

Sat.

12:15pm — 490 Signing (45 minutes)
CCC – Hall D –

In addition to that I’ll be out of pocket now and then for meetings with agent/editors.  If my agent is in the same mood she was last week, you’ll find us drinking or dancing somewhere.  (WAY too much energy, that woman. :) )

I’m so looking forward to getting my Fly-fix.  I missed all my Southern cons this year and the one in CS I was dead on my feet, so though I spoke briefly with Deann and Mike, I didn’t exactly get to hang out.

My juvenalia, btw, is in Portuguese.  These people are SO weird…

Okay.  I need to go do laundry.  I understand it’s frowned upon to attend these things naked.

Hugs and see y’all tomorrow.

A guest post

*I will be back and back to my series on writing, but real life has been interesting and kept me on my toes recently.  Things should settle down in another week or so.  Fingers crossed.  Meanwhile, in a moment of what I’m sure is insanity (trust me) my older son has established his own LJ at  http://robertahoyt.livejournal.com/   and he gave me permission to post his first post here in its entirety.  For those not wholly familiar with writer lingo plotters plot in advance, pantsers make it up as they go.  And the answer to which I am is, oddly enough, “neither.”  [I’ll explain when I continue my series!]  Without further ado, particularly if you’re going to Denvention, we call your attention to –*

G*d is a Pantser — by Robert A. Hoyt

Eventually, almost every writer comes to the conclusion that G*d is an author. It makes some sense, when one considers the nearly soap-opera-like setting many people, especially authors, seem to live in. Since the plot is moved along by the problems that the characters encounter and face, and humans in general come to a unanimous consensus that there are way too many problems around, we can make the safe extrapolation that whatever celestial plot we are taking part in is zooming along at a merry click.
And then it occurred to me that we are always assured that said plot is not going to go wrong. Most plotters can immediately see the problem, because no matter how carefully you plot it, stories come out the way you were expecting only if you were very lucky. And one could probably assume that, if we are to believe G*d can make the proverbial kidney stone even He can’t pass, in the form of free will and such, then by logical dictate we can assume that the universe could well be a technically demanding job even for the omnipotent. If you plotted it out ahead of time, when all you can do in the end is manipulate the circumstances around the characters and let them be themselves, the chance you’d end up where you were going would be infinitesimal. Given the assumption that you could see the future, you’d still be seeing all possible futures when the actions of the subjects were variable. This, I thought, presented a quandary, and I was not about to settle for the typical “C’est la vie” theological answer of its being a “mystery”. 

And then, as I was watching McGyver, suddenly the mystery was solved. McGyver said that he didn’t plan things out in advance, because plans could go wrong… the very problem I had been pondering. Would it not be possible, then, that G*d solved the problem the same way McGyver does? I do not mean that on some higher plane, G*d is sitting there looking at earth and telling an angel “I need a paperclip, some bubblegum, and a fourth dimensional divine sphere”, but certainly a plan that you make up as you go along cannot go wrong. After all, if you aren’t certain what you are supposed to do next, then it’s hard for you not to do it according to plan; there isn’t a plan until you make one up, and then, of course, your actions in doing so almost necessarily assume you are going according to plan. Especially if we think of the universe as being, in a sense, a tremendous, complex game of solitaire, it’s impossible to know what cards are coming, but the skillful player excels in dealing with the cards as they come.
End conclusion? Our Author, who art in heaven, is in all likelihood a Pantser. He has a divine plan for you, certainly, but He might not know what it is yet. I was actually somewhat relieved upon coming to this conclusion, since it meant that the universe may be screwed up at times, but, if you take the long view, it’s awfully hard for it to go astray. Unfortunately, we probably ought to worry that, in the long view, history is also inexorably a story like “The Moon is a Harsh Mistress”, and not like “Pride and Prejudice”, which would be a wonderful thing if not for the fact that we are the characters, and so ineffability is weighted towards our living in interesting times. Any historian can easily confirm that history is very rarely boring, and in fact has more sex and violence then a Brazilian soap opera. 

It was while contemplating this train of thought that it occurred to me that most writers eventually go to a writer’s convention. Since G*d is reputed to be everywhere at once, we can probably assume that transportation would not be a problem in His case. Granted, your standard writer goes to a convention to network, maybe pick up some pointers on writing, although it is not unusual for them to go just because they want to have a good time and see some old friends. In most cases, G*d probably wouldn’t find that necessary. He already has the ultimate network, for starters, and I wouldn’t imagine He needs many pointers. But let’s face it… what’s the point of making a world if you can’t play in it occasionally? Most writer’s conventions are a lot of fun, even if they’re nerve wracking and even if you do go for business. 

So, next time you look around a convention, be on the lookout. Don’t worry if other conventions are going on at the same time, He’s probably attending both if He’s going at all. He’ll be the quirky bestseller who you can never quite remember the nametag of, although you’ll come away with the strange impression it said “Mr. Jaho Vah”, and subsequently determine He was Swedish on this basis (speculation as to G*d’s nationality ends there, although it might explain a lot if He eventually turned out to be American. I will say, however, that although it’s a lovely country, G*d is almost certainly not Canadian.). He’ll be the largish man who sits at the back of the inevitable “How to Build Convincing Worlds” panel, giggling occasionally in a strangely unnerving way. He may, perhaps, express slight disappointment with the angel food cake in the hospitality suite, and is adamantly certain He can do it better. He will know all the secret parties and show absolutely no problems with staying up all night during the convention. He will know all the editors and agents, perhaps hinting incredibly subtly at some shady events in their past that no one could possibly know about during casual conversation, until eventually they include Him in the dinner party out of self-defense. You can spot instantly whether you have also been included in this dinner party, because one member will order the fish and be very fond of the dinner rolls (if the restaurant did not serve either of these prior to your party’s arrival, this is another dead giveaway), and no matter how little of either you originally had you will need several doggy bags for what’s left over. Writers in attendance who have previously had careers that dropped dead will miraculously see them revived, and people who were previously condemned to the slush pile with good reason shall be healed. 

This, however, raises an uncomfortable possibility that there will also be demonic intervention. It is well known that the darker side of the occult attempts to thwart all things that the almighty does, which may well include taking a vacation. This is why preparation is of the essence. Firstly, be aware of evil forces when you see them. Keep in mind that small press editors, animé fanatics and filkers rarely invade cons en mass or travel in groups. Perhaps mischievous little tricks like the guest of honor being unable to get a badge will give it away, or if nothing else, loud groups of people who manifest outside your door at three AM to torment the three hours you have allotted for sleep. 

If demonic forces do invade the conference you are at, it is important to keep in mind the con-goers basic handbook for occult defense and survival, which I will include some excerpts from:

1: The basic field kit for a con-goer should consist of at least one standard bell, one book, and one candle (Your standard issue BBC. It is very rare that you will be able to see Monty python on this kit, however.) The bell can be of any description the user wishes, although a shop bell is not recommended unless one is fighting demonic influence in the dealer’s room. Religious books are preferred, although in most cases a Heinlein book or in a pinch even something by J.K. or J.R.R. can be used by a true believer. Care should be taken with pronunciation in versions of the bible written in the original Klingon, and throat lozenges are recommended. Sadly, Manga has not shown a great deal of potency although ones with higher age ratings may be used to amuse demons with short attention spans while you run away. For the candle, use your own discretion. Something suitably impressive is usually available in the dealer’s room. Flame throwers are effective, but you shall have to convince con authorities they do not work and put a big orange tag on them. NOTE: You should not include garlic, protective herbs, or silver bullets. In the first two cases because they have absolutely no effect on the forces of darkness, and the best usefulness you can expect out of them is they may be used to flavor you. Silver bullets would only be effective against werewolf demons, which are, unfortunately, a completely unconfirmed species. If you do choose any of the above, you should take the precaution of wearing a large, noticeable protective amulet. Not that this will do you any good, but it will make IDing your remains simpler.

2: Stay away from Foci of evil. If you feel an irresistible urge to go watch the filking hour, take a few deep breaths, and look up train wrecks on YouTube. You will receive the same perverse satisfaction, but with less danger.

3. Know your way around the con hotel. Because nobody needs to run into the middle of the J.K. vs. J.R.R. pajama challenge panel when they’re looking for the exit.

4.No matter how great the urge, do not attempt anything you saw on Buffy the Vampire slayer on actual demons. You should not take advice on fighting the forces of darkness from a girl who apparently went to the afterlife primarily to unwind in between huge climactic battles.

5.Avoid being badly plotted. Most writers know exactly what I mean. Do not do anything that you would not write a character doing because it would be obviously stupid. Do not under any circumstances become the best friend of anyone, since there are fifty-fifty odds that you will die in a crucial battle with the con-demons if you do. Do not develop a love interest, and if you start to, find the section of the hotel which still has cold running water and use it.

And finally:

6. Do not do something to annoy someone who can crush your career like a bug on a semi truck’s windshield. Because the prospect of being out of work in this business is probably worse than facing Satan himself. You are planning to survive, so be as plastically jovial as you usually are with people you don’t like and who have power over you, so that they remember how nice you were even in a crisis. Certain editors and bestsellers are probably at least as powerful as G*d, so even if you run into Him, do not bet you are saved.

Above all, remember that if you do run into the almighty, the little touches make the difference. For Catholics, a cross in your Starfleet insignia may garner some favor, for Jews, perhaps a nice yarmulke with Klingon sayings. Since writers tend to work on a “share and share alike” system, and helping newbies is common, you could get some sympathy from our Heavenly Author and become one of the few writers who actually appears to have G*d on their side. 

Major cons may attract more attention from the almighty, depending on how literally one takes “the first shall be last”. Keep in mind the above signs, and you should do fine. With a little preparation, you’ll be ready should Denvention turn out to be a religious experience.
Or, worst case scenario, a metaphysical warzone.