Writing » The Persistence of Vision

My Shadows They're Not New

Jul 082010

Pregnancy is a real bitch on brain function. I’m not sure if it’s the influence of hormones, or just the fact that there’s so much more on my mind these days, but I have trouble holding even the simplest of thoughts for any length of time. Ideas flutter in and out of my mind like butterflies, leaving nothing but a memory of what could have been. Even the most basic leaps of logic are hard for me lately. I struggle to concentrate. I struggle to think.

The threatened miscarriage that left me paralyzed with fear last week has thankfully become something I can deal with now. Prognosis from the doctor is good, and I am laying low (well, as much as I am capable of) and taking it easy. I look at is as an opportunity for work on the novel, and as a good excuse to stay out of the heat. Of course, with pregnancy brain, writing is even harder, so here we are back at the beginning.

Still, the book is coming. Word by word. I’m in the middle, around 20,000 words in, the part where I’m not really sure what’s going to happen next, where I have to let go and trust that my characters know what they’re doing. Most days I do a lot of staring at the screen. Sometimes it all seems like crap. Sometimes it seems pretty good. I’m determined to finish, though, crap or not, because this is when I make the decision, when the idea of wanting to be a writer turns into actually being one. You can’t “kinda” be a writer any more than you can “kinda” be pregnant. Whatever you say, you either are or you aren’t.

And I am.

Out Of the World of the Unapparent Dead

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Jun 032010

Long time since I’ve written. Even my handwritten journal, which I’ve kept off and on for the last twenty years, has suffered for the last month. I’ve just been…so…tired. Just existing, and taking care of my family, has used every ounce of energy I can summon. And, as far as I can see, there’s no end in sight.

Mostly this is due to the hypothyroidism that made itself known in April of this year. This was followed in May by another surprise. After feeling yucky and nauseated for days, I decided to take a pregnancy test so I could rule that out before I called my doctor for a visit, and, lo and behold. So, here we are. Between the little one growing inside me and the thyroid crapping out thing, I’m having serious fatigue issues. Hopefully, my medication will get straightened out soon. In the meantime, I’m plowing through, with a lot of help from my family, and waiting for the day when I can make it 12 hours without a nap.

Writing has been going, though slowly (see above). I’m almost to the end of chapter eight, though in reading over the whole thing I’m finding I may end up either expanding or consolidating some previous chapters. I’d like to finish my first draft by the end of summer, so I’m trying to work as much as possible, given my physical limitations. It’s coming along though, and even though it’s a sucky, sucky first draft, I’m proud of it.

My daughter Kate has been working on growing her first garden this spring. An avowed carnivore, she won’t eat any of the vegetables, but she’s fascinated by life and the processes of nature. As for me, I’m happy to pass on the knowledge that was passed to me as a child by generations of Southern gardeners. In March she decided to enter her efforts in the local 4-H garden contest, and two days ago the judges came to look at her little plot. I was so proud as she led them to the backyard, showing off her veggies and explaining all the work she’d put into it. Yesterday afternoon we attended a little award ceremony at the local extension office, and found out she’d placed second int he elementary category. I was so proud of her, mostly because this is the first time she’s had to work at a long-term project, months in the making, to see some results. She stuck it out, though, and I’m very glad she did. She spent the evening plotting what she’d do with the $15 prize money, which will probably go to some great cause like candy or a plastic toy. Even so, she’s still my little girl, and I’m thankful beyond measure for that.

2010 Hugo Nominations Announced

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Apr 052010

From AussieCon4 – home of the 2010 World Science Fiction Convention:

BEST NOVEL (699 nominating ballots)

Boneshaker by Cherie Priest (Tor)
The City & The City by China Miéville (Del Rey; Macmillan UK)
Julian Comstock: A Story of 22nd-Century America by Robert Charles Wilson (Tor)
Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente (Bantam Spectra)
Wake by Robert J. Sawyer (Ace; Penguin; Gollancz; Analog)
The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi (Night Shade)

BEST NOVELLA (375 nominating ballots)

“Act One” by Nancy Kress (Asimov’s 3/09)
The God Engines by John Scalzi (Subterranean)
“Palimpsest” by Charles Stross (Wireless; Ace; Orbit)
Shambling Towards Hiroshima by James Morrow (Tachyon)
“Vishnu at the Cat Circus” by Ian McDonald (Cyberabad Days; Pyr; Gollancz)
The Women of Nell Gwynne’s by Kage Baker (Subterranean)

BEST NOVELETTE (402 nominating ballots)

“Eros, Philia, Agape” by Rachel Swirsky (Tor.com 3/09)
“The Island” by Peter Watts (The New Space Opera 2; Eos)
“It Takes Two” by Nicola Griffith (Eclipse Three; Night Shade Books)
“One of Our Bastards is Missing” by Paul Cornell (The Solaris Book of New Science Fiction: Volume Three; Solaris)
“Overtime“ by Charles Stross (Tor.com 12/09)
“Sinner, Baker, Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black Mask, Gentleman, Beast” by Eugie Foster (Interzone 2/09)

BEST SHORT STORY (432 nominating ballots)

“The Bride of Frankenstein” by Mike Resnick (Asimov’s 12/09)
“Bridesicle” by Will McIntosh (Asimov’s 1/09)
“The Moment” by Lawrence M. Schoen (Footprints; Hadley Rille Books)
“Non-Zero Probabilities” by N.K. Jemisin (Clarkesworld 9/09)
“Spar” by Kij Johnson (Clarkesworld 10/09)

BEST RELATED WORK (259 nominating ballots)

Canary Fever: Reviews by John Clute (Beccon)
Hope-In-The-Mist: The Extraordinary Career and Mysterious Life of Hope Mirrlees by Michael Swanwick (Temporary Culture)
The Inter-Galactic Playground: A Critical Study of Children’s and Teens’ Science Fiction by Farah Mendlesohn (McFarland)
On Joanna Russ edited by Farah Mendlesohn (Wesleyan)
The Secret Feminist Cabal: A Cultural History of SF Feminisms by Helen Merrick (Aqueduct)
This is Me, Jack Vance! (Or, More Properly, This is “I”) by Jack Vance (Subterranean)

BEST GRAPHIC STORY (221 nominating ballots)

Batman: Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader? Written by Neil Gaiman; Pencilled by Andy Kubert; Inked by Scott Williams (DC Comics)
Captain Britain And MI13. Volume 3: Vampire State Written by Paul Cornell; Pencilled by Leonard Kirk with Mike Collins, Adrian Alphona and Ardian Syaf (Marvel Comics)
Fables Vol 12: The Dark Ages Written by Bill Willingham; Pencilled by Mark Buckingham; Art by Peter Gross & Andrew Pepoy, Michael Allred, David Hahn; Colour by Lee Loughridge & Laura Allred; Letters by Todd Klein (Vertigo Comics)
Girl Genius, Volume 9: Agatha Heterodyne and the Heirs of the Storm Written by Kaja and Phil Foglio; Art by Phil Foglio; Colours by Cheyenne Wright (Airship Entertainment)
Schlock Mercenary: The Longshoreman of the Apocalypse Written and Illustrated by Howard Tayler

BEST DRAMATIC PRESENTATION – LONG FORM (541 nominating ballots)

Avatar Screenplay and Directed by James Cameron (Twentieth Century Fox)
District 9 Screenplay by Neill Blomkamp & Terri Tatchell; Directed by Neill Blomkamp (TriStar Pictures)
Moon Screenplay by Nathan Parker; Story by Duncan Jones; Directed by Duncan Jones (Liberty Films)
Star Trek Screenplay by Robert Orci & Alex Kurtzman; Directed by J.J. Abrams (Paramount)
Up Screenplay by Bob Peterson & Pete Docter; Story by Bob Peterson, Pete Docter, & Thomas McCarthy; Directed by Bob Peterson & Pete Docter (Disney/Pixar)

BEST DRAMATIC PRESENTATION – SHORT FORM (282 nominating ballots)

Doctor Who: “The Next Doctor” Written by Russell T Davies; Directed by Andy Goddard (BBC Wales)
Doctor Who: “Planet of the Dead” Written by Russell T Davies & Gareth Roberts; Directed by James Strong (BBC Wales)
Doctor Who: “The Waters of Mars” Written by Russell T Davies & Phil Ford; Directed by Graeme Harper (BBC Wales)
Dollhouse: “Epitaph 1″ Story by Joss Whedon; Written by Maurissa Tancharoen & Jed Whedon; Directed by David Solomon (Mutant Enemy)
FlashForward: “No More Good Days” Written by Brannon Braga & David S. Goyer; Directed by David S. Goyer; based on the novel by Robert J. Sawyer (ABC)

BEST EDITOR, LONG FORM (289 nominating ballots)

Lou Anders
Ginjer Buchanan
Liz Gorinsky
Patrick Nielsen Hayden
Juliet Ulman

BEST EDITOR, SHORT FORM (419 nominating ballots)

Ellen Datlow
Stanley Schmidt
Jonathan Strahan
Gordon Van Gelder
Sheila Williams

BEST PROFESSIONAL ARTIST (327 nominating ballots)

Bob Eggleton
Stephan Martiniere
John Picacio
Daniel Dos Santos
Shaun Tan

BEST SEMIPROZINE (377 nominating ballots)

Ansible edited by David Langford
Clarkesworld edited by Neil Clarke, Sean Wallace, & Cheryl Morgan
Interzone edited by Andy Cox
Locus edited by Charles N. Brown, Kirsten Gong-Wong, & Liza Groen Trombi
Weird Tales edited by Ann VanderMeer & Stephen H. Segal

BEST FAN WRITER (319 nominating ballots)

Claire Brialey
Christopher J Garcia
James Nicoll
Lloyd Penney
Frederik Pohl

BEST FANZINE (298 nominating ballots)

Argentus edited by Steven H Silver
Banana Wings edited by Claire Brialey and Mark Plummer
CHALLENGER edited by Guy H. Lillian III
Drink Tank edited by Christopher J Garcia, with guest editor James Bacon
File 770 edited by Mike Glyer
StarShipSofa edited by Tony C. Smith

BEST FAN ARTIST (199 nominating ballots)

Brad W. Foster
Dave Howell
Sue Mason
Steve Stiles
Taral Wayne

THE JOHN W. CAMPBELL AWARD FOR BEST NEW WRITER (NOT A HUGO AWARD) (356 nominating ballots)

Saladin Ahmed
Gail Carriger
Felix Gilman *
Seanan McGuire
Lezli Robyn *
* Second year of eligibility

I’ve only read a few of the nominated works this year, but I will say that I hope Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente wins best novel. I read it about six months ago, and I still think about it from time to time. I love Valente’s lyrical writing style – it’s almost like reading prose poetry, and it’s very much a part of what makes the novel work so beautifully. It’s also…different. As in, defies categorization different. It could be called fantasy, I suppose, but it’s not sword and sorcery by a long shot. It’s something else entirely – otherworldly and dark, sensual and seductive, pawing at the edges of reality. Palimpsest is a story that leaves its mark on you, and I won’t forget about it any time soon.

I also enjoyed Rachel Swirsky’s “Eros, Philia, Agape”, a sad, haunting story that reminded me of Asimov’s “Bicentennial Man.” Good science fiction is not only about imagining what technology will be like in the future, but how that technology will impact us as human beings, and what the power of becoming gods in our own small universe will mean. A very good read, particularly if you like stories about AI.

Of course, in the Graphic story category, I have to go with “Batman – Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?” by Neil Gaiman. With what seems like no effort at all, he takes a story we think we all know, and creates something both beautifully new and poignantly familiar. I can admit I cried at the end of this one, and that’s a rare thing for me these days.

At Last

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Mar 092010

Forsythia

Warmth. Signs of spring. I love that my birthday falls during this time, that every year the Earth comes alive again just at the moment I am turning a year older. This is like New Year’s for me, screw that January 1st business. And you know, if you were running low on useless trivia for the day, March was originally celebrated by the Romans as the New Year, when lots of grand festivals were held and troops marched off to war (March is named for the Roman god of war, Mars). September was originally the seventh month, hence “Sept”, “Oct”, “Nov”, Dec”, etc. Julius Caesar moved it back, later on. Something about the innacuracies of the lunar calendar. Whatever. I’m sticking with March.

In any case, the weather made it possible to head down to the farm again on Sunday. Inside the house I painted one of the bedroom ceilings while my sister sorted and boxed years of keepsakes, clothes, and junk. Outside I was able to clean up a few flower beds and plant somewhere around 15 or so azaleas, butterfly bushes, shade perennials, and an herb or two. The LOML continued with the old fence removal, a herculaean task that hopefully will be finished up this summer. As usual, there were beautiful flowers in bloom everywhere. The camellia japonicas are at their peak, joined by early season snowdrops, forsythia, daffodils, and narcissus (yes I know they’re taxonomically the same thing). Pictures after the cut.

In other news, the novel is treking along. 1000 more words yesterday, hopefully a pace I can keep up all week. Right now our heroine is deep in the bowels of Hell, having a little fireside chat with the big man himself. Trouble is brewing. “No fear,” Satan whispers. No fear.

And speaking of Satan, yesterday my shiny, new, signed copy of Joe Hill’s latest, Horns, arrived in the mail. I’d ordered it from The Signed Page, so it came inscribed with a cool little drawing. Happy, happy, squee! For those of you who don’t know, Joe Hill is Stephen King’s son, author of a couple of books now along with an outstanding short story collection. A fine, fine spec fiction writer in his own right. In some ways, I actually prefer his work to his dad’s, as he explores a wider range of themes than his father does. Very cool. I’ll probably devour it over the weekend.

And now, as promised, some photography. All cultivar names, incidentally, are just guesses. My mom bought and planted what she loved, but she wasn’t a big record keeper:

You Know My Deepest Sin, You've Seen Me Deep Within

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Mar 022010

Cloudy, cold and windy this morning, the remnants of the storms that passed through yesterday. The local weatherman reported that the science backs up my suspicions – it has been colder and wetter than normal here this year. Colder, and wetter, it seems than it has been in many years. It’s made pulling myself from the grip of winter that much harder. Still, I am here, dreaming of the warm sun on my skin. Peter Pan says to think happy thoughts and you can fly.

Working on the novel today. This blog feels like that first book sometimes. I have no audience, really, save myself at this point. Like the entries I make here, this first book is written for me, whether I sell it or not, whether anyone ever reads it. It is my cry out into the aether, my scratched paintings on the wall of a cave, my thin, ever-so-human voice calling out into the darkness. Will anyone hear? Who knows. What’s important is the sound. When I am dead, all that will be left are the memories of me in the hearts of my children and these words. The memories will pass away, as all intangible things do. But my words – my words will remain.

After the cut, the requisite a-ha video of the day.

February Sky

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Feb 232010

Snow is predicted again for tonight. This is truly the strangest winter in my memory. As a kid I can recall several winters when it snowed, even up to a couple of inches accumulation, and times when the snow stuck around for a couple of days. This, however, will be the third measurable snowfall this season in this area. Very strange, Mr. Watson. Very strange, indeed. In the meantime, my wait for spring continues. Lots of trees and shrubs are beginning to bud, and the first daffodil bloomed on Sunday. They’re all very put out by the persistence of the cold and snow. I’m not sure what to tell them – hopefully they’ll make it through the latest bout of teh freezes without suffering too much damage. Spring will come, damnit, if I have to call her up from Hades myself.

Got little in the way of measurable work done on the novel yesterday. I have sheaves of notes lying around on my office floor, spread around me like an offering. I have notebooks filled with plot outlines. I feel like I am standing at a crossroads, only instead of four choices there are four thousand. Roads, possible directions, spreading out in infinite directions like the rays of the sun. More outlining done yesterday, and I’m heading back into Lucifer’s curiosity shop today, so we’ll see. Ever hopeful for a tiny light in the darkness around me to lead the way out of the forest.

An archeologist has recently discovered a temple complex in Turkey that appears to be approximately 11,500 years old. This is before agriculture, before towns, before even pottery, firmly still in the hunter/gatherer period. His theory is that everything we’ve ever imagined about the development of civilization is exactly backwards. We did not come together, form societies, and then decide to begin worshiping gods. Worshiping gods is what brought us together in the first place. Many, many implications here. Both my academic and my artistic minds are trying to wrap themselves around this. How much we have yet to discover about our development as a species. Fascinating.

Back to work. Or some reasonable facsimile thereof.

This work by Lynette Mejia is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Silence Always Wins

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Feb 222010

Friday was a great, productive day. The best I’d had in ages. Over 1000 new words on the novel, the entire day spent sifting through piles of notes, organizing plot lines, and adding scenes to better flesh out the characters. I’m hoping to keep up the momentum today after a couple of days away from the pen.

The weekend was spent with my children, helping them with projects and working on various scouting badges. On Saturday the LOML and I built a birdhouse with my son, and he went to his bi-weekly pack meeting. On Sunday my daughter had an beginner’s ice skating clinic, and we stayed afterward to let them both have some time on the ice. It was great – ice rinks are few and far between in this area of the country. They’ll have an opportunity to learn something I never did as a kid. The free time I had in between was spent cleaning up and working in the garden, taking advantage of some rare warm and dry days to take down the greenhouse and plan out the projects I want to tackle for my birthday week vacation. It’s on March 10th, very near the frost date for my zone, and so every year my birthday gift to myself is a week off to work outside. It’s my official spring celebration, the waking up ceremony, if you will. A little premature for the equinox, but what the hell.

Saturday night we watched Jane Campion’s Bright Star, and were mightily impressed. I’ve studied Keats for years; wrote my senior thesis on his work, but it was a joy to watch the LOML become interested. After the movie he did some web research, and read my favorite, “The Eve of St. Agnes.” Made me happy, happy. Am re-reading Complete Poems this week, as well as finishing Aileen Ward’s biography, begun years ago but never completed. I do that a lot – watch a movie, read a book, hear a song, and then plunge headlong into studying the topic for weeks. It’s just my nature, said the scorpion to the turtle.

For those interested, the title reference below the cut:

My Shadows They're Not New

Out Of the World of the Unapparent Dead

2010 Hugo Nominations Announced

At Last

You Know My Deepest Sin, You've Seen Me Deep Within

February Sky

Silence Always Wins

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