Sat down with the Beautiful Wife last night and cranked out another short story, then fired it off for submission. This one was definitely a joint effort, and I think it's the better for it. So, y'know, wish us luck.
I cannot believe how stressful this summer has been. No real crises- crisises- no real disasters, just one bit of extra work and worry after another. I'm actually glad to have the boys back in school.
I may try to write more this weekend. We'll see. Meanwhile, have some frolicking otters:
Several book recommendations this morning, for fans of Eldritch Horror:
CthulhuChick.com has put together the Free Complete Works of H.P. Lovecraft for ebook, nook, and kindle. (Also PDF, for people who don't have anything that'll read any of those formats.) My gratitude, like the touch of Yog-Sothoth, overflows all boundaries.
I'm currently reading The Translated Man by Chris Braak, which is a lovely bit of Lovecraftian world-building.
Over on Kickstarter, the Tremulus project has tripled its original goal, and is well along the way to meeting its stretch goals. This is shaping up to be a really interesting (tabletop) roleplaying game of Lovecraftian horror, so even though it's already met its goal, I'd encourage you to get in on it.
I also just downloaded Daughter of Hounds by Caitlin R. Kiernan. I read this one a while back, and it's another good example of Lovecraftian world-building. It's darker in tone than The Translated Man (above), and there are some elements (particularly a rape) that some readers may find triggering - though the author handles them carefully.
So that's my list. Anyone else care to recommend a book or two? Comments are open.
"Welcome to Genericare. All our associates are currently busy helping other customers, even though the store just opened three and half seconds ago. Someone will be with you as soon as possible. Please hold."
(Really, really awful jazz.)
"Thank you for continuing to hold. Someone will be with you momentarily."
(Really, really awful classical: pastoral and cheery.)
"We care deeply about our customers and are always happy to hear from you. Please continue to hold."
(Really, really awful instrumental cover of Cyndi Lauper.)
"Our associates are happy to help, and look forward to addressing your concerns. Please continue to hold."
(Even more really, really awful jazz. Not that there's any other kind that gets played as hold music...)
"Did you know that we have a website? It's a marvelous new invention that's only been around for the last twenty years or so, you probably haven't realized that you could use that instead of being on hold. Unless, of course, you're only waiting here because the nature of your problem requires intervention from an actual, oxygen-processing human being."
(Calm, soothing classical music, designed to either put you straight to sleep or send you into a homicidal rage.)
"Someone will be with you momentarily. Your patience is appreciated."
(Really, really awful jazz. Again.)
"You do know about our website, right? For online support, visit this insanely long and ill-considered URL. In fact, we'll repeat it for you - twice! - because there's no chance you managed to get that down on the first try. We have all kinds of useless help files and upselling strategies on the website, so you should really go there and quit bothering the paid employees."
(More soporific classical music.)
"All our associates are currently helping other customers. Or faffing off in the break room. Or something. But let's face it: you've been on hold for eighteen minutes and twenty-two seconds, now. We know you aren't going anywhere. So stay on the line a while longer, and somebody will get to you. Eventually. Maybe."
(And then, at last, the music that broke my will:)
So today, rather than walking Firstborn into school, I'm just dropping him off. As we're pulling up to the school, the crossing guard has stopped the traffic for a pair of boys who are obviously walking to school from somewhere nearby. Once she has everybody stopped, the younger boy runs across and continues running all the way into the school. The older one just sort of strolls along behind him.
I mention this to Firstborn, because it's fun to see somebody running for the sheer pleasure of it, and because it's kind of funny to watch him running with a big ol' backpack on.
Then we pull around, and I reach the drop-off area and stop the car. Firstborn unbuckles himself, snags his backpack, and races away towards the school with a huge grin on his face. Fortunately, I'd already rolled down the passenger window, so I called: "And don't forget to close the door!"
Firstborn doesn't even break stride. He circles a brick pillar, runs right back to the car, says "I forgot!" and closes the door. His grin is slightly sheepish, but still huge. Then he turns again and races into the school.
As a young man, I remember being taught how to say, "I don't speak Spanish" in Spanish.
This, as it turns out, almost completely defeats the purpose. If you tell someone that you don't speak their language in their language, they naturally assume that you speak their language. The fact that you just told them that you don't speak their language is completely superseded by the fact that you were just speaking their language.
School is upon us again. The first day of first grade. I have to say that this went easier than last year, mainly because Firstborn and I are a lot more used to getting up at these early hours.
It started in much the same way: getting the boy out of the bed:
I hear people talk about having "the courage of your convictions." If you believe something, really believe it, then you have to have the courage to follow where it leads. Outside your comfort zone, outside your life, into the realm of unchallenged assumptions and people who aren't like you, who don't agree with you, who maybe think that you're doing the wrong thing, or maybe think that you're doing the right thing the wrong way, or who maybe just need your help in way that makes you profoundly uncomfortable... and maybe several, or even all, of those things at the same time.
What I don't hear about is the presumption of your convictions. That's... not exactly the opposite. It's not exactly a vice. It's just a natural human tendency to assume that the things that seem good and right and true and obvious to us, also seem -- or also should seem -- good and right and true and obvious to everyone else. As the Gershwins would say, it ain't necessarily so.
Now, there are times when I think I'm not a very good ally. I mean, there are people and issues that I feel strongly about - marriage equality is a good example - but I don't tend to be out there agitating for them. It's not apathy; it's something more like privilege. I don't spend a lot of time with people who disagree on these topics - I don't have to spend a lot of time with people who disagree on these topics - and as a result it's very easy to forget just how many of them are out there. It's the presumption of my convictions: because these things seem obvious to me, I assume they must be equally obvious to everyone else.
Well, not everyone, obviously... but the people who disagree are probably just statistical outliers. They couldn't possibly make up a significant voting block, let alone an entire political party. To be clear: yes, I know they do. But knowing it and feeling it are two different things.
...And that's a problem. As a practical matter, it makes very little difference if I don't care about an issue, or if I'm just not very aware of it; either way, I'm not helping.
So... I'm going to work on that. I'm going to try to be... not just more aware, but more active. I probably won't be talking about it much here on the blog; the blog exists mainly to amuse me, and hopefully anyone else who happens by. But it's something I'm going to work on.
