New Link

There is a new link on my sidebar labeled "Amazon.com wishlist." It appears as such because I am too tired at the moment to pick and manipulate a cool picture to use as a button.

I obviously don't expect any of you to care much about this list. It isn't as if I am claiming that any of you have any reason to buy me shit. (Not that I would ever complain.) It is mostly there for the few family members and friends who stop by here to look at should they be inclined to try to come up with gifts for some occasion.

Feel free to look at it, or not. It is mostly just windowshopping on a public stage. It will undoubtedly get longer as books, movies and music I am interested in keep coming out and I keep being too broke to do anything about it.

Mostly, it is just another weird thing on my sidebar that most of you won't pay attention to. But that's just life, or something close to it.

Failures In The Field Of Writing

Diverse readers make bad writers. This is the lesson that I am learning even as I embark on putting into print yet another one of my stories that won't ever achieve that goal beyond a printed version within my house.

I note this at the outset, not having put a single word down yet, not out of an attitude of defeat, but a simple recognition as I examine the aspects of the story in question.

One of the most important aspects as far as the ability to publish and share your stories is the marketability (i.e. readability) of what you are writing.

When the author is a fan of Steven King, Nora Roberts, Laurell Hamilton, Harry Bosch, John Grisham, Anne Rice, David and Leigh Eddings and countless others whose names don't rise to the surface at the moment, one realizes something. (A realization that might take some research on the parts of the rest of you as I am at this point too tired to go to the effort of linking every one of the above authors for those who are unfamiliar.) That author is a huge fan of good writing regardless of genre. The problem is that this presents a difficulty in writing. As often the genres mix in the writing at hand.

This makes things wholly unmarketable. You have to have the genre to sell your book to. Love stories sell. Fantasy and Hi-Fi stories sell. Mysteries sell. Science Fiction sells. The problem is when you don't have a market to attach your publication to.

A mob story will sell. A love story will sell. A story about witchcraft will sell. A story about top secret military units will sell. A story about mutants will sell. What genre do you put all of the above into if they exist in a single book?

In my latest: How exactly do you make a dreadnought love story marketable? (In this case you, by my design given the public domain here, may not know what a dreadnought is, since I created the race in question.) Suffice it to say the fantasy and love story would be difficult enough. David Eddings meets Nora Roberts. It would be more difficult given the fact that dreadnoughts only come in one gender. More still since the world in which they exist would have to be created first, which is the fundamental failure in my last book as I created the story then wrote the first book that was the background.

So the truth is that I will never be a writer. Not for the inability to process complex issues, but the reverse. I can't dumb it down to a genre. Perhaps soon I will reach that last stage of commitment to the realization of this and create a spin-off blog like Dawn Is Coming devoted to my fiction, so that which does not sell will at least provide thoughts and details to others who can dumb it down for a willing audience.

My only even semi-well known writing will be here. That sucks, but it is life, or something close to it.

A Note Or Two About MC

MC and I have been friends for a good number of years. He ranks high in my inner circle of friends, and I was going to say that he is one of the people I have been friends with the longest. I have always thought of it as such, although when reflecting upon that now I realize that out of my really close friends, he was actually the last one to enter that "inner circle". Interesting that. I was going to say that it was barely relevant to the point of this post, but in truth even I am not sure of what that is at this point. It is more of a collection of ideas that came to mind in a very tired and intoxicated state. (This morning after getting out of work. I am not intoxicated at this point. I am at work, and I don't mix alcohol with my place of employment. It doesn't settle well.)

It is somewhat of the same vein as the suggestion MC proposed at the end of this post though I hadn't thought of that until after.

There is no question in the minds of any who know us, or most of those who have read the exchanges out here, that MC and I are two distinctly different people. It seems at times that there are far more items we disagree on than we agree on. Still, while often disagreeing with him, I can frequently see the rationale of his point of view. (More often, I suspect, than in the reverse.) There are many aspects of MC that I would say are distinctly not me. There are some of these that I would go further and say that not only do I not fit the same mold, but I don't think I would care to. That said, there are many reasons why I am jealous of him, and could aspire to be more like him.

MC is a very confident man. He knows what his strengths and his weaknesses are. This seems a minor thing, but many of us don't have the level of self-assessment that he demonstrates. Not to say that he isn't human. Like anyone, knowledge of his weaknesses doesn't always equal protection from them. This does however lead to another one of his traits that I have always admired. He learns. A simple recognition of what one might perceive as a personal fault doesn't do one any good unless they step up and fix it. In truth, I often wonder if some of my faults will ever be fixed. If I will ever be able to figure out this self-improvement thing.

This is an element of MC that I have been particularly jealous of. He plays a lot of poker. He plays it well. He knows the game, he knows the math, he knows when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em, so to speak. This isn't a natural born talent of his. He had a desire to learn the game and so he studied, worked at it and improved himself. This is something I have never shown much talent for. Not the game, the process of developing such skill at it. I don't recall a single point in which something that I took interest in, showed some latent talent in, was ever improved through study and any attempt on my part to do so. That which I do, for better or worse, seems to always reflect the latent skills applicable to it that I brought to begin with. I have thought, ironically, that MC might teach me the skill of improvement, of learning and applying in such an arena. Except that without learning to learn, I wouldn't be able to apply the skills he taught me.

I am somewhat jealous that his confidence is more honest than my arrogance. He frequently acts as though what he says can be assumed to be correct. This is primarily because it generally is, and he generally can point to the facts to prove it. I generally come off as presuming I am right (which happens frequently enough as well) and can often back up my position as well. The difference. His confidence is something he believes in. My arrogance is not something I believe in. I am jealous that he can so easily presume he has the right of it, while I so easily presume the distinct possibility that I am wrong. Both come off the same and can be confused by others, but his is quite probably the healthier perspective.

One of the things I have admired in MC is his honesty. In case you folks haven't noticed, he frequently employs this rather than bullshit diplomacy. Sometimes I wish I could stop playing the games with people that he seems to so easily refuse to play. Even if I couldn't quite see myself as being as blunt and open as he is, it is also often refreshing to hear him being straightforward, as opposed to the patronizing bullshit you get elsewhere.

Beyond the ability to see his own strengths and weaknesses, he also has a pretty good handle on those of others. With those of us amongst his close friends, at least, he doesn't exploit these, but rather tries to work on them. I can't tell you the number of times he and I have had conversations over coffee, in a car on the way somewhere, or just hanging around the house where he has provided advice and helped me out of a particular situation, or helped me work through a difficult time. I have many more such memories of such scenarios with him than with my own father. I have also benefited greatly from many of those scenarios.

I have spoken of several aspects of why I admire, or even am jealous of MC. I am sure I left some things out along the way. In return I at least have something (and lisanocerous can undoubtedly confirm this) that many of you should be jealous of me for: I have the pleasure of calling MC a friend. Sorry. We can't all be that lucky. That's just life, or something close to it.

Some Humor

Some of you might get a kick out of this post.

If not, that's life, or something close to it.

Fun Stuff You Find While Surfing At 2am

Via Wildhunt I was pointed to this amusing article about a woman who claims Harry Potter is responsible for school shooting. As well as this one about the first significant case of Pagan missionaries that I am familiar with.


That's all for now, I will edit if I find more interesting stuff. Enjoy the above or don't. That's life, or something close to it.

20 Minutes Of My Life

As some of you may have noticed, I went out to be entertained by a well renowned (at least locally, and since he isn't local, I suspect beyond) hypnotist. His name is J. Medicine Hat. I have seen several other supposed hypnotists before, including Sandman at the same club. They are fun shows to watch. Due to some screwy issues involving my family dynamics, I didn't go Friday, I went tonight. I have never believed in the actual effects of hypnosis and hypnotic suggestions as demonstrated. (My long term readers will remember a debate on this around a year ago, I am too lazy to research and find the post as it was the comments, not the posts, that introduced the question.)

The problem I have (a minor one to be sure) is that I am still inclined to believe it doesn't work, but have circumstancial evidence to the contrary. In short, I didn't volunteer to go on stage, but stayed instead to eat and drink and enjoy. I recall the beginnings of his speech to encourage the state of mind of those on stage and thinking about how it was similar or different to some practices I have used on others. I also know that there was a 20 minute gap in which I easily could have nodded off that folks at my table and strangers at surrounding tables insist that I followed the directions of him, with assistance from his assistant who stayed by me, prior to the decision by Mr. Medicine Hat that given the choice between my response and the apparent response of a more attractive female, I lost and I was to be woken up.

It disturbs me to hear these reports that during this gap in consciousness I did such things. (The gap not being as disturbing, as that kind of thing happens on occasion.) I still can't bring myself to believe this stuff works, but can't see why my parents and strangers would have collaborated to tell a story about what I might have done while asleep. More annoying is the off chance that the process works and the fact that while I was fully awake at the end of the show he told the participants on stage that any of them who smoked and had considered quitting would no longer be inclined to smoke. If the first part of this bullshit worked, which I don't admit, then it would seem I got screwed on the second half. Still, I am glad that according to their story I wasn't picked, as the show was hilarious and I don't see as how I would have enjoyed having missed the entire show, rather than just 20 minutes.

So there is the surreal aspect of life, or something close to it.

The Blood Moon

The Blood Moon rose over Rochester, NY at 6:26pm Eastern Daylight Time on October 6th. It became full at 11:12 pm Eastern Daylight Time, and set on October 7th at 7:49 am Eastern Daylight time.

Over Farmington, NM it rose at 6:35pm Mountain Daylight time and set at 7:50am on the following day. It became full at 9:12 pm Mountain Daylight time.

The Blood Moon is so named in reference to the fact that this is the time of year where one would begin to thin the herd in order to allow the rest to survive through the coming winter months. It is one of the ones that some of our detractors love to point to because it sounds ominous and seems to speak of sacrifice, but the truth is it has a practical, and non-religious oriented name just like most of the rest of them.

The next Sabatt will be Samhain, on October 31.
The next New Moon will be on October 22nd at 1:15am Eastern Daylight Time
The next Full moon (the Mourning Moon) will be November 5th at 7:58am Eastern Standard time.

There is the lunar and the spiritual data for this month of this life, or something close to it.

A Mother's Lesson

I stalked across the field to where She stood, one hand resting on a tree, but not leaning. More as if She was posing or showing Herself off. As I approached She lowered Her hand and stepped toward me, Her features changing as She did so.

"Where is my church?" I demanded of Her.

She laughed. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" She asked, turning and walking away.

I hurried over to catch up. Her features and physique were continuing to change, never staying the same for more than a couple of seconds. "Why do you change as soon as I can see who you are at the moment?" I asked.

She wiggled a finger at me. "My question again." She responded.

"Do you plan on just continuously frustrating me?" I demanded.

The shifting stopped. Her clothes were dark and Her face was stern. "That's the third question I could ask of you." She replied. "My patience with that tone does wear short on occasion as well. Ask what you want to know."

I took a deep breath. "I already asked what I wanted to know." I replied.

She smiled and turned, Her form still regal, Her clothes still dark, yet She did not seem as forboding anymore. The humor in Her voice helped to push away some of the chills I hadn't noticed as well. "Fair enough. Ask something I can answer, then."

"Why can't you answer the first question?" I asked as we walked and She began changing forms again.

"You've wondered that for some time." She replied. "But you know that is not a question I can answer for you."

"Is there no answer?" I asked.

"You know there is. You know who must answer." She gestured to Her right. Where the field had been open before, I now saw a clearing at the edge of a forest. Against a cliff. I could hear the surf below. "It is the same question."

I stood for a moment and stared at the scene, then I turned back to Her. Her face was warm, Her figure and attire designed to be comforting. They weren't.

"So if I can't answer that question, I am simply lost?" I asked Her.

"Of course not." She answered with a laugh. "You still know your way here."

"But this isn't enough." I replied heatedly. "This is just my own private war. Nobody stands with me. I don't have the comfort she spoke of when she simply walks into a church for the morning service. That is lost to me."

"You would prefer to be surrounded by people who went through the motions of something they didn't think through?" She asked of me.

"They aren't all like that."

"True. But can you point to which is which? And could you be comfortable there? It seems you walked away, not them."

I shook my head and sat down. "Is there no alternative? Is there nothing for me where I can not be the thinker? Where for just a moment I can just sit down and share?"

"You had that." She replied. I recognized the voice before I even looked up at the face that matched. It was a high priestess I had known. "You turned from that as well. In fact, you destroyed that."

"They were hypocrites." I pointed out in defense.

"They were. She replied, incongruently changing form to the one out of all of them I wouldn't have said that about. "Was knowledge of that alone enough to throw away the comfort you had? To destroy it for them?"

"I didn't do it alone." I continued on the defensive. "And they soon would have done it to themselves."

"You are right." She began changing again as She walked away, forcing me to stand and follow. "Was it inevitable, then, that you would never trust any others after that?"

"Perhaps it was."

"No perhaps." She replied. "It was. Because, for all of their faults, you never danced with them either."

"Maybe because of?" I offered.

"You know better." She stopped at the edge of the cliff, far enough away from the grove and pointed to the vista ahead of us. I just stared for a moment, until She spoke again. "Did no good come out of that grouping, then?"

I remembered that night. Angry. Surprising myself as I realized that it wasn't for the first time. "You came to them. They all saw you, and I didn't. Those hypocrites had a moment that insured them in their minds that they were right, and I had nothing."

"Nothing?" The face was younger now. I recognized it in an instant, and suspected She was playing with me. "Of course I am." She replied. "It is my perogative. But this is important, and she more than any other, is a calming influence."

I waited and stared for a moment on a face from my past. And somewhat my presence. My wife, in high school. I waited to hear what She would say that asked for this ploy.

"I ask you again. Did you get nothing from it?"

"I got a peripheral experience." I nearly pouted. "I knew you were there, but they saw you."

"And what did my presence bring them?"

"Confidence that they were right." I replied.

"What did it bring you?"

"Jealousy."

"Is that all? Did you not also feel reassured that I was there?" She gave me that look that my wife so often gives me. The pin-you-to-the-wall, you-can't-lie-to-me look. "Was there anything else beyond that?"

I thought for a moment, but She spoke before I could come up with an answer. A question that surprised me. "Was there not also anger? Did you not have a reason for your anger?"

"I was angry that they had such a gift before them and such opportunity and they threw it away and corrupted those who would learn from them." I answered.

"So you brought it all down." She began changing again as we stood there. "You freed those who desired to learn from the corruption they offered. You changed nothing for the others, they just moved on. You found a connection to me deeper than before in that moment. You served me. You did it without question and without hesitation."

She walked away and through all of Her changing forms the sadness stood out. I couldn't help but stare for a moment at the circle in the distance.

"Why can't you teach me?" I demanded. "Why must I figure this out on my own? Don't I need someone to dance with?"

The sky lightened for a moment and she looked at me with a smile that nearly melted my bones. "You do learn."

"I try." I replied, somewhat confused. "But I haven't answered anything."

"Can't you dance with me?" She asked.

I didn't have to say no. She didn't have to ask why, because She knew I couldn't answer.

"Do you suppose people file into an auditorium and wait patiently for someone to learn ballet and entertain them?" She asked.

"No."

"The dance comes first, you can't get a dance partner if you can't dance."

"So if I learn how to dance, the church will follow?" I asked.

"Learn. When you learn how to dance, the church will already be there."