your moment of zen

John Scalzi joked the other day that among the verified miracles of St. Obama is the simple fact that he’s a black man named Barack Hussein Obama who may very well be our next President of the United States. (Also, he not only heals the sick but springs for their copay.)

With all due respect to Mr. Scalzi, that doesn’t quite cover the full extent of the miracle.

There are white supremacist leaders supporting Obama for President.

Esquire did a piece quoting several such leaders — warning, there’s a lot of racist talk on the other side of that link. And certainly not all of them are in favor of a President Obama. But when the Chairman of the American Nazi Pary says things like “White people are faced with either a negro or a total nutter who happens to have a pale face. Personally I’d prefer the negro,” you really can’t help but feel you’ve entered the Twilight Zone.

That’s how weird of an election we’ve got here, folks. Guys who have made a lifelong hobby out of being racists are finding a way to reconcile that racism with the conviction that the black guy would be a better President. (And not by saying “he’ll screw it up and then everybody will see we were right all along,” either.)

There’s hope for this country yet.

A Modest Suggestion

Discussing a recent Podcastle episode over on their forums, and talking about how I end up not enjoying “realism with just a touch of the fantastic” stories as much if I go into them expecting more overt fantasy, I commented that I might appreciate a heads-up in the story intro, telling me what kind of tale I’m about to listen to. And then, because CYA and all that, I said I wasn’t looking for an actual metric or anything, just, y’know, a hint of what to expect.

But screw that. I want a metric! Should it be dragons? One millidragon for your average “is it fantasy or is this person just crazy?” story, one kilodragon for gonzo over-the-top magic everywhere you look. Or to hell with a metric metric; let’s embrace the irrational organization of imperial units and say there are twelve garcia-marquezes to a tolkien, and eight tolkiens to a gygax. Or whatever. Use the comment thread to suggest what our units of magical measurement should be. Show your work. Extra credit for plausible-looking equations.

via truepenny

Copy this sentence into your livejournal if you’re in a heterosexual marriage/relationship (or if you think you might be someday), and you don’t want it “protected” by the bigots who think that gay marriage hurts it somehow.

I don’t think Internet memes change anybody’s mind, but it’s worth taking a moment to publicly announce that I think any consenting adults who love each other one enough to make that kind of commitment should be allowed to do so. I’m glad to live in a state that has granted them the right, and I devoutly hope they still have that right a week from today.

blast to the past

So I went to my ten-year high school reunion last week.

The short form is that there isn’t too much interesting to say; there weren’t any CIA spooks or hired assassins after me, and the whole event was hosted at a club rather than at the school, so Grosse Pointe Blank hijinks were not terribly likely. There were some people there I was glad to see, a bunch more I would have liked to see but didn’t come, and (thanks to the size of my graduating class) a giant crowd of people I wouldn’t have recognized ten years ago, either.

But it does encourage a bit of reflection. I don’t think I’ve changed very much in ten years, you see. Not so much because I’m still invested in who I was in high school — at least I don’t think that’s the case — but rather, I figured out quite a long time ago who I wanted to be after high school. What’s happened since then is, I’ve gotten better at being that person. I liked fantasy novels: my taste in them has improved. I liked certain kinds of art: I have the money to buy nicer examples of it now. I wanted to be a writer: I have three books in print. Music (in the performance sense) has sadly left my life, as has dance, but there’s no sense that I’ve “outgrown” them; the love is still there. I’ve gotten back into fencing. My hair is still long. <g> I’m just better at being me.

I can live with that.

Anybody have exciting high-school reunion stories? Did any of you rush off to reinvent yourselves after you escaped the madhouse?

pre-recommendations

I went to bed last night with that conversation rolling around in my head; I woke up to discover that Abyss and Apex has decided to buy the most ridiculously-titled short story I have ever written, “Letter Found in a Chest Belonging to the Marquis de Montseraille Following the Death of That Worthy Individual.”

***

So, you all know I like doing recommendations for good books I’ve read lately. Unfortunately, I don’t have as much time to read as I would like, which means that the recommendations lag way behind all the cool stuff I see coming out. To that end, I’m going to start putting up the occasional plug for books I think look cool and am putting on my own TBR list.

First up is Elizabeth Bear’s All the Windwracked Stars. It’s a steampunky cyberpunky post-Ragnarok Norse fantasy-type-thing, and the sample had my Norse-geeky self squirming in glee. It just came out this week, I believe, and while I don’t have my copy yet, that’s more attributable to the fact that I haven’t left the house than anything else.

The other pre-rec for now is Diana Pharaoh Francis’s The Black Ship, second (but mostly stand-alone) installment in her Crosspointe series. I confess to a bit of jealousy here; the setting resembles the Changing Sea, home to a sailing-fantasy novel I want to write someday. But jealousy also translates to interest, so here’s a brief interview with Diana:

(more…)

conversation with the brain

Conscious Mind: <singing> Revise, revise, revise the book . . . .

Subconscious: Oooh!

Conscious Mind: Yes?

Subsconscious: This is what the book’s about!

CM: Yes, we know that.

SC: Nononono. I mean, yes, but think about this.

CM: I did. Months ago. And that’s about as far as I got.

SC: Get ready to go farther. What if [spoiler]’s motivation was Y, not X?

CM: !!!

SC: Uh-huh.

CM: OMG. That works. So well. And it fits with the —

SC: Uh-huh.

CM: Not sure where to first bring it up, but we can totally work that here, and all through this bit, and —

SC: <preens>

CM: . . .

SC: What?

CM: Except that we resolved that conflict based on the assumption of Motivation X. Just how is this supposed to work out if it’s Y instead?

SC: . . .

CM: C’mon. You got me started down this road; you finish it.

SC: <ninja vanish>

CM: I hate it when she does that.

the other political post

This article on Rwanda’s government is kind of awesome. (Go to Bug Me Not for a login to use on the WaPo site.)

Short form: 56% of Rwanda’s parliament, including the Speaker, is female, making them the only majority-women government in the world. They’re systematically dismantling the laws that hold women down, encouraging them to move into the common workforce, and making an organized effort toward community-building throughout Rwanda.

The pessimist in me — which might also be the realist in me — says it can’t last. They’re not exactly surrounded by stable governments, and I’m sure there are tensions and conflicts within Rwandan society that might break them apart from within before these changes can become habit. It’s also not cheerful news when you figure that the reason Rwandan women can do this is that they made up 70% of the population after the genocide. But for all of that: dude. Women are now 55% of Rwandan society, and 56% of its parliament. How many countries in the world can claim such equality of representation?

Only Rwanda. Out of curiosity, I looked up figures on the United States Congress. 17% of the House is female, and 16% of the Senate. (A little more than 19% for the British House of Commons.) Not so great for us — especially when you figure that we still haven’t managed a female president or vice-president, and only one and two substantial candidates for those positions, respectively.

(If there’s one thing I regret about this election season, it’s that the Democratic party had to choose between the African-American candidate and the female one.)

(Then again, if there’s one thing I love about this election season, it’s that the Democratic party got to choose between the African-American candidate and the female one. <g>)

Anyway. Go Rwanda. Go Kagame, for pushing a vision of equality and harmony. I wish them all the good fortune in the world, and hope America can aspire to do half so well.

historical thoughts

I’m randomly on Wikipedia, reading the entry on the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, and it’s sparking some interesting thoughts.

I suspect Americans have a hard time grokking the UK system of government because to us, it looks kind of haphazard. The government of the United States was designed; if you sit down with the Constitution and read the first three or four Articles, you know more or less how we work. The UK Constitution isn’t even a document; it’s a collection of documents and conventions and general force of habit, accumulated over the centuries. You could graphically represent the difference by putting maps of Washington, D.C. and central London next to each other. One of these was planned; the other happened by accident.

So you can’t easily say who the first Prime Minister was, because nobody ever sat down and created the office. Walpole kind of was, in terms of the power he held, but people fought about the term for over a hundred years, and apparently no two lists of PMs are alike, because the criteria for inclusion vary. It’s interesting to me, though, that the office grew out of the Treasury. I suspect — and this is probably me re-inventing the wheel of some Marxist branch of historical study — that you can view the growth of modern democracy as a process wherein the root of political power shifted from control of armed force to the control of money. (And there’s probably an interesting comparison in there somewhere, between the West and Third World military dictatorships. I’m beginning to feel like I ought to have majored in history after all.)

It makes me realize, too — given the season we’re in right now, over here in the U.S. — how amazingly stable our government has been. I don’t hold with whatever dude it is who declared that history’s over, that we’ve arrived at the final, triumphant form of government; democracy on this scale is still the new kid on the political block, and might not have as much staying power as that guy thinks. There are dynasties that lasted longer than the United States of America. But when I compare the succession of U.S. presidents with that of monarchies or Prime Ministers, it’s kind of impressively . . . boring. In a good way. The biggest weirdnesses we have are: FDR with his four terms; Grover Cleveland with his non-consecutive terms; a small handful of male relatives who occupied the same office. A couple of assassinations and deaths in office, whereupon their successors picked up and kept going. And the Civil War, but even then, all that happened politically was that part of the country seceded and formed its own country. I don’t think we’ve ever had, say, two rival Presidents running around, both claiming their Cabinet and Congress are the real ones. Or anything to even approach the Wars of the Roses.

(Yes, most of my comparisons are to British history. For obvious reasons. But I’ve studied other countries, too.)

(Okay, my brain just offered up Emperor Norton. Who is entertaining, but not exactly mainstream American history.)

So, yeah. As contentious as our elections have been lately, and as freaked out as some people are by the possibility of a black man* leading our country, on the whole? We still have an awfully rational and stable thing going on over here.

I have other, unrelated political thoughts to post, but it occurs to me that if I put them here, one half of the post or the other will probably get all the attention in the comments, so I’ll save it for a separate entry later on.

*By which we signify a half-Kenyan black, half-Kansas white guy born in Hawaii and raised partly in Indonesia. Don’t you love how modern American society still boils everything down to one-word reductionist evaluations of skin shade?

think fast!

I need to figure out what I want for a karate icon.

My trial period is over; I’ve decided to join the dojo for real. To that end, I bought myself a pair of gloves, and sparred for the first time yesterday. (I kind of sort of sparred last week, but it was more like a set of sparring drills; when it came time for people to do scored bouts in front of the teachers, I was never called up.) They paired me against one of the black belts — all of whom, from what I’ve seen so far, are good people who understand that nobody benefits if they just wipe the floor with the little baby white belt. I “won” our bout, because she decided my lesson this week should be learning to attack: she launched the occasional strike at me, but mostly baited me forward, luring me into, y’know, doing something.

Which was both familiar and strange. I’ve sparred in fencing, but bare-handed combat is new to me. It’s a lot closer-range than I’m used to; the black belt kept beckoning me in, while I floated out at something more like blade length. On the other hand, since I don’t have to control a heavy piece of metal — and if you think rapiers aren’t heavy, you haven’t tried to wave one around for very long; they gain a pound with every passing minute, I swear — I was able to follow through much more cleanly when I saw an opening. Which my sparring partner even praised after class: the fencing experience means I do see openings. (I see them in fencing, too, but when I try to exploit them my point goes haring off god knows where, because my wrist strength crapped out three passes into the bout.)

Now, if I can get more than basic punches and some half-assed what-block-was-that stunts into my repertoire, I might get somewhere.

I also need to learn to kiai. Since apparently a point doesn’t count if you don’t yell when it lands. Just wait until I start doing this in fencing: the peril of pursuing two martial arts at once.

Wednesday . . . is gonna hurt. Because if I try to come down into the straddle splits from above, the way we do in class, it strains my hips without actually stretching me, so yesterday I did it the way I used to in dance: start on the floor, then roll forward into it. Their way, I’m a foot and a half off the floor; my way, maybe four inches. But it isn’t a method that lets you ease gradually into anything, so I fully expect my inner thighs to stage a violent protest come tomorrow.

When I will make them do it all over again.

Victory of Eagles

I’ve already recommended Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series, starting with His Majesty’s Dragon, so the only thing I’ll leave outside the cut is that boy howdy am I enjoying this series, and why don’t we have book six yet?

(more…)

voting rights

Maybe gollumgollum can explain this one to me, since she’s studied the U.S. prison system.

I read a post recently by a guy who was convicted of a felony some years ago, did his time, got out. He apparently volunteers for political work regularly, “get out the vote” efforts — because he can’t vote. And I think that was the first time I discovered that felons in prison are not permitted to vote, and depending on the state they live in, cannot vote for some variable amount of time after they’ve been released.

I don’t understand why.

I know that our legal system is based on a principle of punishing offenders by stripping them of various freedoms and rights. On the whole, I prefer that to the principle of subjecting them to physical torment, say, or other options societies have tried throughout the centuries. But I’m not sure I get, let alone agree with, stripping them of the right to vote. Maybe it’s because I view that as a responsibility as much as a privilege. Maybe it’s because our entire prison system is kind of broken to begin with. But I just don’t get it. It isn’t like saying convicted pedophiles shouldn’t be allowed to live within five miles of an elementary school; I doubt these felons used their voting rights to commit their crimes.

Once you’ve done your time, what conceivable argument is there for not being allowed to participate in democracy again?

(What argument is there for not being allowed to participate while doing time? Are we afraid somebody will organize a prisoner voting bloc to pass some law favorable to them?)

This particular story had a happy ending; the guy in question had just discovered that in his state, he was in fact eligible to vote again. There was joy radiating from my screen, I swear. This is a guy who desperately cares about his country, who wants to do everything he can to be a part of it again. Denying ex-felons the right to vote, as far as I can see, only serves to ostracize them further, and hinder them from becoming productive members of society again.

The Littlest White Belt

I was good about going to the gym in 2007. In 2008, not so much. I managed it some of the time for the first four months; then I was out of the country for May (albeit on trips that involved much walking), and then it was the summer, with the moving and all, and I really didn’t have the time or energy for much of anything in the way of exercise.

Since last Monday, I’ve been to four karate classes and a fencing practice.

To quote my Scandinavian heritage — uff da.

I didn’t plan to dive in headfirst. It’s just that in karate, you pay by the month, not by the lesson, so it behooves me to go to all three practices each week if I can (and I really don’t have much excuse to say I can’t). And I’ve been trying to get my butt up to the city for fencing practice these last two months, so when it turned out I was actually going to manage it this week, well, “but I’ve already worked out a lot lately” didn’t seem like a very good reason to stay home.

Sheer bloody exhaustion might count, though.

On the other hand, if I can keep this up, I’m going to be fit in no time flat. Karate may be only an hour each time, but it’s all-levels, which means that tonight I was chased across the floor in sparring by a brown belt and three black belts. (Retreating is something I’m very good at.) And fencing is technically only for an hour, but if last Sunday is any example, I don’t have to worry much about the heavy fighters showing up and kicking us out of our field; I think it goes until people quit. All of it very acceptable as cardio work, too. Four or more hours of that a week? Yeah, I call that working out.

(Just don’t ask whether I’m really thinking about eventually taking up kobudo — weapons — twice a week, too.)

two links: one serious, one not

I’ll give you the serious link first, because I want you to actually pay attention to it.

Jim Hines is auctioning off an ARC of his upcoming Charlie’s Angels-style fairy tale novel, The Stepsister Scheme. Which is fun news in and of itself; I very much enjoyed his goblin novels, and this one sounds even more my kind of thing. But much more important than the ARC is the reason it’s being auctioned: Jim will be donating the money to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. The more people bid, the more NCADV benefits, and also the more Jim tosses up in the way of prizes; with the numbers up over $100, he’s already promised to include other signed books in the package. I know we live in cash-strapped times (at least those of us currently shackled to the American economy), but if you’re looking for an excuse to benefit a good cause, this is a fun one.

Speaking of fun, now the silly link: book covers, redesigned to be truthful. I can’t remember if this is the same guy that brought us the hilarious Choose Your Own Adventure covers — I think it might be — but anyway, go see staples of the genre advertised with honesty.

the full-time writerly life: the big picture

So what do I do with myself all year?

(I figure this is the biggest scale on which I can usefully address the question of how I will be organizing my life. Once we start talking about multiple years at a time, too many of the variables are out of my hands.)

Historically, the answer has been that I write a novel every summer. I missed a couple in there, and sometimes I wrote one during the winter, but on the whole, novels have been summer things, because I’ve been in school.

This has also, to some extent, dictated my pace: it takes me about three to four months to complete a draft. At 1K a day, which is my standard pace, I get about 30K per month, so 3-4 months is enough to produce an average-size fantasy novel. In practice, that’s usually an under-estimate, though I miss days, I treat 1K as a daily minimum rather than an average, so over time I build up a margin of safety. I also tend to speed up as I get closer to the end of the book.

I think it’s fair, then, to divide the year into thirds: three four-month periods. It’ll do as a rough guideline, anyway.

Here’s where it gets fuzzier, because I don’t actually know what I’ll be doing for the next couple of years. In Ashes Lie is the second book of a two-book contract, so other than the revisions (which I’m working on right now) and the rest of its production process, I’m not under contract for anything at the moment. I have some educated guesses as to what I’ll be doing next, but no guarantees yet, and so I’m going to restrict myself to more general terms here.

I can certainly write a novel a year. I was able to do that even while in school full-time; I can do it now. So that’s one third of the year dedicated to writing a novel. What about the other two-thirds?

After years of having nothing much in the way of YA ideas in my head, I’m starting to grow some. So it’s entirely possible I’ll find myself publishing for both adults and teens in the future. Which works out well: a YA novel is maybe half the length of an adult one, depending. Can I write a novel and a half each year? I think so. (My average while in college was slightly better than that, in fact.) I even think I can handle prepping for an adult book — research and so on — while writing a YA. So my ideal yearly schedule would have me writing the YA in the four months preceding the block in which I’m working on the adult novel.

But of course we have to figure in deadlines, which will be dictated by my publisher’s schedule for putting things out. My own order and timing will have to shift to meet reality on the ground.

What about the last third of the year? Odds are high — one might even say certain — that I’ll be revising and copy-editing and page-proofing during that time, since it will follow on the delivery of one book or another. But that isn’t four months of daily work. And while I may be prepping for the next book, it’s hard to imagine that being a full workload, either.

And that’s fine, because I need some time to play. My hope is that the remaining portion of the year, the “vacation” in which I am not drafting a contracted novel, will be spent on playing with new ideas. It’s rare for me to produce a book from a dead halt; usually I’ve got anywhere from a few thousand to forty thousand words already squirreled away in a file by the time I officially sit down to write that book. (Okay, 40K has only happened once. But 10K, sure.) So the last third is for spec projects, things I’m not contracted for but am maybe interested in pitching, or even just stuff I want to do for the hell of it, with no certain expectation of what I’d do with that book if I had it. I’ll be a lot happier if I have a stable of such things, so that when a given contract ends and an editor says, “what would you like to do next?,” I have a bunch of little saplings ready to be turned into full-grown trees.

So the thirds are, in adjustable order: Write YA while prepping adult. Write adult while processing YA for publication. Write whatever I feel like while processing adult and prepping YA.

I think that could work. I like the sound of it, anyway, because it allows me to keep up a book-a-year schedule in both fields while still having some time for work-fun.

We’ll see what happens when I try to put this into practice.

It annoys me when a movie promises me (speculative) genre elements and then fails to deliver them.

more recs

Yeah, so I totally didn’t manage a recommendation every day last week, but I’m still plugging along. This time it’s Mary Doria Russell’s lovely “Jesuits meet aliens” religious SF novel The Sparrow.