Every Part of Your Life Is Real

You know how sometimes you find yourself losing patience for something, entirely without warning? Yeah. I’ve lost patience with the phrase “real life.”

It’s an extension of the gripe I had when I was in graduate school, about people referring to academia as “the ivory tower” — as if a job there was somehow not a (hmm, this sounds familiar) a real job. Trust me, universities have just as much in the way of politics and bureaucracy and such things as any other workplace. People in them do work, get paid money . . . just like people do in a corporation or store.

Lately I’ve seen writers talking about how “real life” has distracted them from writing. I’m not just talking about hobbyists (though my point would stand even if I were); I’m talking about professionals, for whom writing is, if not their sole job, at least one they file taxes for. Why is that part of their lives somehow less valid than the rest of it? I hear people saying the same thing when they talk about things in contrast with their hobbies. What exactly is real life, anyway?

I don’t think there’s a single answer. People use the phrase in a lot of different ways, for a lot of different reasons. Work is real life and hobbies aren’t, because work isn’t fun, and we all know (thank you, Puritans) that fun things are of the devil. If work is fun, it becomes not-real. Trouble is real. The things you can’t get away from are real. But all the rest of it . . . that doesn’t count. You have to deprecate it, apologize for devoting energy and attention to it, because it’s a diversion and therefore fake.

I say, screw that. Every part of your life is real. Even the optional parts, and the ones you enjoy. I’m not saying there isn’t any such thing as prioritization; obviously some things demand or deserve more investment from you. But that doesn’t make them more real — just more important. Let’s say what we actually mean, and not something else, that makes people feel like the things they care about are for some reason invalid.

My job and my hobbies, almost everything I do, involves imaginary people and events. But that doesn’t make my life not real.

Award nomination!

I was supposed to sit on this a while longer, but somebody apparently jumped the gun, so now I’m allowed to tell.

Romantic Times (which covers a great many things besides romance) is holding its Reviewers’ Choice Awards, and With Fate Conspire has been nominated! In, er, the “Epic Fantasy” category, which is not what I would have expected — but hey, I’m in good company:

THE WISE MAN’S FEAR Patrick Rothfuss, DAW, (March 2011)
WITH FATE CONSPIRE Marie Brennan, TOR, (September 2011)
THE COLD COMMANDS Richard K. Morgan, DEL REY, (October 2011)
THE KINGDOM OF GODS N.K. Jemisin, ORBIT, (November 2011)
STANDS A SHADOW Col Buchanan, TOR, (November 2011)

I won’t know the results until April. In the meantime, congrats to my fellow nominees, and to all the other nominated authors.

Thanksgiving Advent, Day Eight: Netflix Streaming

Yeah. I know. I’m lazy. But it’s true; I’m thankful for Netflix Streaming, and other services that allow me to enjoy movies and TV from the comfort and sloth of my home. πŸ™‚

Not only because they enable me to act like a total slug, but because they make it me more willing to give a shot to various things I wouldn’t have tried if I had to make an effort to seek them out. And, as a corollary, they make it easier to give up on stuff that isn’t any good. If I’ve rented something, or waited for the disc to be sent to me, I’m more likely to feel as if I should stick it out for the whole thing, even if it isn’t really holding my interest. If it’s streaming, though, I feel very few compunctions about quitting after fifteen minutes. And that frees up more time for me to try the stuff I mentioned at the beginning of the paragraph!

(Mind you, it also means I’m apt to let such things suck away more of my time in general. But there’s a price for everything, I suppose . . . .)

Thanksgiving Advent, Day Seven: Days Off

Yeah, so I missed yesterday. I spent my time hanging out with friends, and playing a video game, and giving myself a day off from everything — which wasn’t intended to include these posts, but hey, I can always get around that by being meta, right?

Anyway, days off are definitely a thing to be thankful for. I tend toward self-flagellation when I’m not doing as much as I think I should, but you know, you need downtime in order to make the most of your productive hours. And it’s good to have a day of rest. So I’m grateful for Sundays — or Saturdays, or whatever day of the week you take as your vacation (even if it’s not actually every week). We need that time off.

Thanksgiving Advent, Day Five: That Bakery at the Farmers’ Market

It’s the Brioche Bakery, and they show up at our local farmers’ market every Saturday morning. Why am I grateful for them? Partly for their tasty, tasty baked goods (om nom apple cinnamon muffin, or their scones — oh, their scones), which have become the standard Saturday-morning breakfast for me and kniedzw, but also for a less direct reason.

See, their baked goods are so tasty that kniedzw and I will actually go to the effort of obtaining them, nearly every Saturday morning. Not only does this get us out of bed and out of the house, it gets us to the farmers’ market. Tasty baked goods in hand, we wander up and down the aisles, where we pick up more things: fresh-squeezed orange juice (also so very tasty), fruit to snack on during the week, specialty ravioli (like ham and cranberry and smoked gouda — it’s fabulous), and other sundry foodstuffs. At Christmas time we get a wee lil’ tree. All of which are good things, but I can’t say with any certainty that we would actually have the motivation to go and get them if it weren’t for the bakery.

So thank you, Brioche Bakery, for your muffins and scones, and also your cheesy garlic bread, and your cookies, and your loaves of other bread that tastes really good with that spreadable quark cheese the stall about halfway down sells, which reminds me, I really ought to buy some quark next week.

Yeah. πŸ™‚

Thanksgiving Advent, Day Four: Role-playing Games

Almost forgot today’s post! Well, I’ll take my inspiration from the thing I’m about to run off and do, and say I’m thankful for role-playing games.

Yeah, you heard me; I’m about to go spend my Friday night being a gamer. (This is not at all a surprise to some of you.) RPGs are awesome, man! The way I approach them, they’re collaborative storytelling, and let me tell you — it is freaking amazing when stuff comes together, totally unplanned, into the perfect bit of story. Emergent narrative, to don my academic hat againt for a moment. I loves me a well-written novel, too, but when that stuff happens half by accident, it’s extra cool.

And playing gives me a chance to explore different kinds of characters, in ways I can then bring back to my writing. So aside from the benefit to me, there’s a benefit to you.

Now if you’ll pardon me, I have go to pretend to be someone else. πŸ™‚

Thanksgiving Advent, Day Three: My Friends

There is, of course, some overlap between this and the previous post, as I count a number of writers among both my colleagues and my friends. But my non-writer friends very much deserve a nod, too. I know a lot of very cool people, some of them living nearby, some of them in other cities or even other countries — which makes those latter hard to hang out with, but on the other hand, it often means I know somebody in the places I travel to. And that’s pretty nifty.

Friends are especially a thing to be grateful for given how isolating my job can be. If it weren’t for you guys, I would have gone insane(r) a long time ago.

Thanksgiving Advent, Day Two: My Colleagues

Continuing the post-WFC theme: I don’t exactly work with anybody, per se — writing being a fairly solitary task and all — but man, my fellow writers are pretty damn cool people.

Sure, not all of them; some are boring blowhards or unrepentant jerks. But the percentage of them with whom I can have cool conversations is remarkably high. It’s a function of the job, really: writers in general, and sf/f writers in particular, are prone to knowing random nifty things, and “random nifty things” is one of my favorite things to talk about. As mrissa and alecaustin and zellandyne and I were commenting at lunch on Sunday, we don’t do the small talk thing very well; introduce us to somebody new, and if we get our way, within five minutes we’ll be riffing on archaeology or exoplanets or historical methods of smallpox vaccination.

I may go months at a time without talking to any of them in person, but I look forward to those occasions when we all get together.

The DWJ Project: Castle in the Air

I remember picking this book up when it hit the shelves, and being delighted when I saw that it was a sequel to Howl’s Moving Castle.

I also remember being really, really confused as to how it could possibly be a sequel. For more than half the book, the only visible connection is a couple of passing references to Ingary. (There’s much more than that going on, of course, but it doesn’t become obvious until fairly late.)

For that first half or so, the real connection is more a matter of style. Just as Howl’s Moving Castle played around a bit with fairy-tale tropes — eldest of three, setting out to seek one’s fortune, etc — Castle in the Air plays around with tropes from the Arabian Nights. Abdullah is a very different character from Sophie, and his conflict is likewise different; the story is more centrally about him solving his problem (and dealing with a larger one in the process), rather than Sophie solving a larger problem (and getting her own resolved in the process). But there’s a similar feel to the two stories, and I’m quite fond of Castle in the Air, if not so fond as I am of the original.

On to the spoilers!

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A perfectly competent example of a subgenre I’m bored with

I’m not going to list all the books I brought home from World Fantasy, because I don’t intend to keep all of them.

It isn’t meant as an insult. Normally I fly to WFC, and that necessitates strict limitations on what I bring home. This time we drove, though, and so I grabbed copies of things I knew I would never read, because I can (and will) donate them to the library.

The thing is, “I’ll never read this” isn’t necessarily a judgment of quality. We did the traditional thing of reading the opening page out loud, and I described one of the books from my bag as “a perfectly competent example of a subgenre I’m bored with.” Other people still enjoy it, and that’s fine; more power to them. Or take the Pathfinder novels I received: I didn’t even bother with the opening page, because I know I’m not interested in the first place. But somebody at the library book sale might very well snatch it up.

If I really thought a given book was bad, I wouldn’t even donate it to the library. Like approximately 93% of the con attendees, I dumped one book on the swap table, and thought “good riddance.” I won’t name and shame the author, but it was self-published and rampagingly full of the stalest cliches, including one that I find offensive. I’m not inflicting that on the library.

So I won’t list all the books I brought home, because I don’t want to imply a major criticism when I don’t keep them. But there were some really good-looking ones in there (including Guardian of the Dead! Which was on my wish list!), so look for those to show up in my “books read” posts later.

Thanksgiving Advent, Day One: My Job

I’m going to take a page from John Scalzi’s book (or rather, site), and try to do a “Thanksgiving Advent,” where I post each day about something I’m thankful for.

Given that I just came back from World Fantasy, it seems appropriate to start with my job. It has its downsides, but at the end of the day (which is usually when I go to work…) — man, I get paid to make stuff up. And not just any stuff, but fantasy worlds packed as full of wonder as I can make them.

That’s pretty goddamned amazing, that is, and I hope never to lose sight of that fact.

*is ded*

The crappy internet access situation at the WFC hotel means I am irretrievably behind on LJ; as such, I will not be attempting to retrieve it. If you posted something since last Tuesday, I haven’t seen it; if you want me to be aware of it (e.g. you have good news you want to brag about again, or a charity thing you want to promote, or whatever), then please do comment here. Because my brain, it is oatmeal, and needs help being turned back into a brain again. πŸ™‚

(Oh, and WFC was a blast. I almost managed to see and spend time with everybody I wanted to. Not quite — since that is an unreachable target — but I gave it a pretty good try.)

World Fantasy, here I come

Off stupidly early tomorrow morning for World Fantasy. I forgot to mention it before, but I’ll be doing the event at Mysterious Galaxy, starting at (I think) 6:30 p.m. My panel, in the meanwhile, is at 11 on Sunday. Hope to see some of you there!

The DWJ Project: Believing is Seeing – Seven Stories

Another short story collection. Two of the stories in here are repeats from collections I’ve previously read: “Dragon Reserve, Home Eight” (in Warlock at the Wheel) and “The Sage of Theare” (in both that and Mixed Magics). The other five are new, in the sense that I haven’t read them before; I didn’t think to approach these things in publication order.

“The Master” didn’t do a lot for me; it felt a little too weird and disjointed, not drawing together until the end, and even then not enough. That scene gave the story a point, but didn’t do anything to put previous events in context.

“Enna Hittims” got me off on the wrong foot with the way Anne’s parents took care of her — or rather, failed to — when she was seriously ill with the mumps. This might be the neglected-child version of what I’ve started thinking of as the Goon Problem: I don’t mind the titular character in Archer’s Goon being horrible at people, because the novel both fleshes out that situation and waters it down with other narrative material, but I dislike that motif when it shows up in condensed form in DWJ’s short fiction. Anne being left to more or less starve, and then being laughed at by her father for the disfigurement brought on by the mumps, really rubbed me the wrong way, even though some of the kids in the novels suffer far worse. The end was touching, though.

“The Girl Who Loved the Sun” was pretty good, in a tragic and deeply disturbed way.

“What the Cat Told Me” is fun but not memorable; the plot is fairly mundane, lifted up a touch by the narrative voice of the cat.

“Nad and Dan Adn Quaffy” I remember reading before, and it still doesn’t do a lot for me. As with my complaint about the stories in Stopping for a Spell and Warlock at the Wheel, the magic is too random and unexplained, and the running motif with the typos doesn’t amuse me enough. I do like the line about pretending to be the captain of a starship, though.

The DWJ Project: Wild Robert

Heather, a girl whose parents are curators for a “British Trust” (i.e. National Trust) estate, accidentally calls forth a Jacobean-era man known as Wild Robert, who runs around wreaking havoc with magic.

This book is short enough that I suspect in technical terms it’s only a novelette — no more than fifteen thousand words, and probably less. It could easily have been included in one of DWJ’s collections of short fiction, rather than being published independently. But it’s a pleasant enough story; I found it much nicer than the stories compiled in Stopping for a Spell, which were also put out as individual books.

As for spoilers . . . .

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The DWJ Project: Hexwood

I said at the end of my last post that I wasn’t sure if I’d ever read Hexwood before. I can say now that I’m 99% I hadn’t — because surely I would have remembered The One Where Diana Wynne Jones Wrote an Episode of Doctor Who.

Seriously, how else am I supposed to describe a book that has dragons, robots, medieval knights, evil galactic overlords, a girl with four not-so-imaginary voices in her head, and a simulation device that might end up assimilating the entire planet Earth? Plus a story that doesn’t quite go according to normal linear chronology. I pity the poor soul who had to write cover copy for this thing. Here’s what my edition has:

Strange things happen at Hexwood Farm. From her window, Ann Staveley watches person after person disappear through the farm’s gate — and never come out again. Later, in the woods nearby, she meets a tormented sorcerer, who seems to have arisen from a centuries-long sleep. But Ann knows she saw him enter the farm just that morning. Meanwhile, time keeps shifting in the woods, where a small boy — or perhaps a teenager — has encountered a robot and a dragon. Long before the end of their adventure, the strangeness of Hexwood has spread from Earth right out to the center of the galaxy.

Me, I would say that the story concerns a device called a Bannus, which was designed to aid in decision-making: given suitable starting parameters, it simulates every possible set of outcomes. It was built by a race of people called the Reigners, five of whom are now basically the aforementioned evil galactic overlords; when a Bannus left on Earth gets out of control, they rush to try and shut it down, but instead the Bannus keeps trapping everything within its simulation.

Does that make any sense? I can’t tell. This book is extremely hard to summarize, and moderately confusing to read, too. I did enjoy it, but you’ve got to be willing to let go of linearity, and be okay with the fact that many of the characters spend most of the book being totally adrift as to who anybody is and what order they’re encountering each other in.

Maybe spoilers will help. Then again, maybe not.

Are my characters insane?

Okay, this is totally random, inspired by rachelmanija exercising her fledgling therapist muscles by diagnosing random fictional characters according to DSM-IV criteria.

Which, if any, of my characters have diagnosable psychological disorders?

I honestly don’t know; IANA psychiatrist, therapist, or anything else of the sort. The closest I’ve come is marrying a guy with an undergrad degree in psychology. But Miryo, Mirage, or Eclipse; Lune, Invidiana, Deven, Antony, Jack, Galen, Irrith, Eliza, Dead Rick — okay, that last one I’m sure has at least one certifiable issue, possibly more. Short story characters are also fair game, if any of those have been memorable enough for you. Hell, if you’ve played in a game with me, you can take a crack at my PCs, too. (No fair diagnosing Sagara with gender identity disorder. That one’s too easy.)

I suspect most of my protagonists, if not side characters, are too stable to really display anything DSM-worthy. But it amuses me to ask. πŸ™‚

The DWJ Project: A Sudden Wild Magic

The hidden leaders of magical society on Earth discover that a neighboring universe is using our world as an experimental laboratory: siccing problems (like global warming) on us with the intent of seeing how we cope with them. They mount an expedition to put an end to the problem.

My recollection is that when I was a kid, most of Diana Wynne Jones’ work was shelved in the children’s department; this book, however, was in the nascent Young Adult section. It’s certainly aimed at an older readership. The only work of Jones’ I can think of that’s comparable is Deep Secret, a later (and more successful) book. This one doesn’t seem to be anybody’s favorite — though I could be wrong — and a great many people don’t like it at all. So bear that in mind when you decide whether to read the spoilers that follow.

I'm not sure what to make of this.