Snippet

This snippet is brought to you from the current project, which I don't have a firm title on, yet.  
  

 ***

“I’m dead, not male,” I snarked.  “Besides.  I had guy friends in college that said they thought we females lucked out in the ‘carry shit around with you’ department.”

“Yeah, well,” she sputtered.  “They lucked out on the comfy shoes and clothes that work on fat people department.  I mean, seriously.  Heather gray in regular sizes is manatee gray in plus sizes.”

I snorted, then choked on a giggle.  “Say what, now?”

Andi eyed my scrawny figure. “Not that you’d ever have had the same problem,” she said. 

“No,” I admitted.  “I routinely forgot to eat when I got busy, and was anorexic in high school because it was all the rage.”

“God have mercy,” she blurted out, staring at me instead of fastening her seat belt.  “A serious psychological disorder was trendy?”

“Keep in mind, hon,” I said gently.  “I’m probably your mother’s age, rather than yours, no matter what I look like.  There were a lot of things that were trendy that shouldn’t have been.  Like Anne Rice.”

Andi finished fastening her seat belt with a sigh.  “Anne Rice wrote better vampires than Stephanie Meyer.”

I glanced in my rearview mirrors, then twisted around to back up without hitting the Mustang.  “Honey, everybody writes better vampires than Stephanie Meyer, but she’s the one sleeping on pallets of cash.”

***

I'd like to know what y'all think. 

Damn vampires.

A couple months ago, I had a DO appointment, then a endocrinologist appointment.  My regular doc has been trying to find something--anything--she can do to treat the chronic fatigue syndrome, or at least help me manage it.*  And she ordered a CBC, a liver function test, and a test that shows RA that may be hiding from the more common test.  And said I could just get them all done when the endo ordered another TSH blood workup. 

Well, the endo appointment came.  She did, indeed, send me down to the lab.  And their computer system shat itself, and refused to pull up the print command for the labels for the vials.  So, they wouldn't do the bloodwork ordered by my regular doc.  And something went funky with the TSH, and it read really low--which means that the thyroid dose I'd been doing as well as I ever did was too high.  Don't know if it was stress, or me managing meds and diet to wring every last bit of energy out of my meds for the last couple of months of teaching actually succeeding past where I should have, but still.  She flipped out, and ordered another in two months (i.e., yesterday). 

So, yesterday, I went to the lab at the DO's office.  And asked for her bloodwork, and could they please do the rest, too. 

They offered to go ahead with DO's, but not endo's, or let it ride until I went back to the lab in the endo's building, which should do all of it. 

Yeah, not after last time.  I asked that they went ahead with the draw for the DO. 

Turns out it was a really good thing I did.  They got plenty. 

Odysseus helped me get all the way across town (about a twenty-minute drive) to the lab.  They got me in, and the little phlebotomist tried her damnedest.  Three times.  She finally got just barely enough to run the TSH test that the endo ordered. 

*Managing it is not overdoing it, sleeping a lot, eating a lot of beef, and drinking coffee.  Pain management is a little more complicated, due to allergies, and involves a good bit more alcohol than I really want to be drinking on breakthrough pain nights.

Deep breath...

Crack knuckles...and write. 

I have the project for March finished in first draft form.  It's a collection of short stories (and I am planning on adding one more, when I can get it out).  I'm fairly happy with it. 

I've also started the next project.  It's one I started about five years ago, but stalled on.  I couldn't find the right music for it, and I didn't know why I couldn't move the plot forward.  I recently got a lot more music--like, four CDs, three of Avenged Sevenfold, and In This Moment's Rituals--and the latter proved to be perfect.  I pulled up the 10K words I had of the project, and read through it four times while listening to the music...and figured out that I'd not set things up right.  I've got to build the trust between the characters before I can set the plot rolling.  Duh.

I had 10K words.  I had to cut 2K words to get back to a point where it would move again.  And once I did, I added 3K words.  Yes, the project that stalled for five freakin' years is alive again.  And it's coming really easy, now.  

Last weekend, I discovered a couple things: thing the first, my headphones had died.  Again.  The wire had broken on the plug end.  Thing the second, I can't cheap out on fixing thing the first and expect it to last.  I'd spent $50 on three pairs of headphones, last year. 

So on Saturday, I spent $50 on a pair of headphones that are capable of Bluetooth connection or of using a wire...which was the fail point on ALL of my other headphones...and which fully detaches and is easily replaceable on this set. 

Hopefully, this pair lasts me for a good while longer. 

This morning, I finally felt good enough to move my work station back from my recliner (with heat pad and blankets and all sorts of comfort stuff) back to my desk.  And I went to plug my USB accessories back in to print my tax info and to get back to using a keyboard that's a lot easier on my hands.  And come to find out, the keyboard won't see the laptop, or vise versa. 

I panicked.  And went looking for a spare (which we don't have).  And then decided I was going to go get a new one.  Asked Odysseus if he could grab me one, or if I ought to go to a local overstock and return store that often has some really decent stuff marked a lot lower than it should be.  He suggested plugging it in and trying a hard restart.  So I did, and went to do the restart, accidentally put an elbow on a key...and the damn thing obeyed the input command, and shut down my browser. 

Yes, ladies and gents, that's right: I threatened to replace a piece of equipment that wouldn't work, and it started working again. 

We really ought to do things like this more often with cashiers that won't do their jobs and go on strike demanding a skilled worker's wage for unskilled work. 

Back to work.  I'll bang out this new project's first draft, then get to work revising March's project. 

It's a couple weeks later than intended, but...

 ...it's done, and published.  You can buy it, or you can use the Kindle Unlimited program to read it for free.

Life happens.

Last week, the kids' Christmas Break ended (on Tuesday--the teachers' break ended on Monday).  The kids had a four day week, last week, and I got quite a bit actually done that I hadn't managed to get done while they were off (Mom-ing is a full-time job, especially when the weather's awful, and the kids are stuck inside, and leaves no energy of any type for anything else). 

Sunday, I made chili, and had the imp's godfather, and the godfather's new girlfriend over for supper.  She's very sweet, but I really think it's not going to work, long term.  The imp's godfather is a conservative leaning libertarian Christian, and the girlfriend is a hard-left leaning pagan feminist that's so open minded she's in danger of losing her brain.  The cats and kids liked her, and liked her kids, so she's not totally a lost cause, but...yeah.

And Sunday through Monday...it snowed.  A lot.  We got an inch or so on Sunday, then four and a half more on Monday.  And school was cancelled on Monday, and the local PD declared emergency road conditions (rightly--the salt trucks and plows couldn't stay on the road).  And through the course of the day on Monday, the temperatures plummeted. 

Monday night into Tuesday, it got down below zero.  We broke a long-held record for low temperatures.  Tuesday, we also broke a long-held record for coldest high temperature (mid single digits).  And local schools remained cancelled, but I had hopes for school being in session on Wednesday, so cut off the imp's TV viewing, and sent him off to play after lunch. 

I got them both chased through the shower and put to bed on school night time, and then collapsed.  Checked my email.  Cussed.  Because school was cancelled for Wednesday, and they announced it while I was chasing the kids through bedtime routines. 

So, yesterday morning, I was trying to sleep in a bit, whilst Odysseus was getting ready for work, and Odysseus uttered an expression of shocked dismay. 

Our hot water had frozen overnight. 

Finally got that thawed around a quarter to 11:00 yesterday morning, then realized I was hearing water running under the house. 

I don't know where the house shutoff valve is, assuming we have one, but I do know where the breaker box and well breaker is.  Flipped that off, and have been trying to avoid needing to use the bathroom. 

The plumber is supposed to get to us sometime today. 

Needless to say, I've gotten very little done this week.  Life has very much happened, and continues to happen.  And all of this has been going on while the weather has my joints hurting enough that I'm dreaming in shades of more and less pain in my hands, knees, ankles, hips, and (as of last night) one shoulder.

I'm about ready to give up and do my best to get drunk tonight (after the plumber has been here and fixed our water issues).  Works better for pain management than most of my other options.

End of break

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  The kids have been out for a bit over two weeks (they were out halfway through Thursday of the week before Christmas, and are still out as of today. 

Tomorrow, they go back.

I suppose that, had this break had normal weather for this time of year in this part of the state, it wouldn't have been so bad.  Unfortunately, it got really cold just before Christmas and stayed that way for most of the break.  The weather only got tolerable outside a couple days ago, and the kids have spent part of today playing outside.

They have been absolutely miserable, trapped in the house by dangerously cold temperatures, and shared that liberally.

They desperately needed the space to go screaming and playing like crazy...and they didn't have that.  They're not allowed to bring toys out of their rooms (because they don't take them back to their rooms), and aren't allowed to run, yell, scream, or roughhouse inside the house. 

I tried taking them shopping...that wasn't what they needed.  They needed time and space where they didn't have to control the play and noise impulses more than they needed to just get out of the house.

And I'm not taking them again when they're only out for a week or two.  I won't be taking them with me on the grocery shopping trip again until I have to.

Tomorrow, though, they go back.  And I can get to some jobs that really need done. 

Want a sample?

I have the first chapter of Detritus.  If you want to read it, it's posted below the break, and over at The Godshead Tavern blog. 

That time of year...

When the weather is whiplashing around (65 degrees today, 35 and wintery mix forecast for tomorrow, then cold, then warmer, then colder again, and on and off precip for the next ten days), you're scrambling to do last minute shopping for groceries not gifts, amongst the ignoratti that wait until four days before Christmas, and the kids get to stay home, so are constantly underfoot.

Yes, we have everything.  No, we don't have anything wrapped.

Can I just go to sleep and wake up after the kids go back to school in January?

I have the kids out for two weeks plus two days (they have tomorrow off, and don't go back until the 9th).  I'm going to have Odysseus reset the time permitted for them to play with their Kindle Fires, since the weather's going to be truly terrible for a lot of their break, and we don't have the garage cleared out yet. 

I'm planning on working on editing the two pieces I have finished (Detritus and Normalcy Bias) while the kids are out, with a little writing when and as I can.  I should have the first chapter of Detritus edited and posted tomorrow.  I'm hoping to get it done and polished up (and put up for sale) by New Year's Day.

Kinda depends on the kids' behavior, and how much wrangling and referee-ing I have to do.

I'm already feeling the weather shift.  I think I'm going to dig out my gloves, and not climb out of my sweats at all tomorrow. 

End of an era

Monday was the final exam time* for my 8:00 class; yesterday held the same for my 9:30 class.  Yesterday, I turned in my final grades for both classes, my gradebooks for both classes, and the extra assessment paperwork for departmental accreditation for both classes. 

All there is now is the wait for my final paycheck, the last working day of December. 

Well.  Twelve years (and a half) of teaching for the same university is finally done.  It is such a huge weight off that I can't really articulate it. 

(And yes, I had a student pestering me if there wasn't something they could do to boost their grade, and didn't I see their last blogs that they didn't tell me they'd done when they turned in their late paper?  Well, why not?  And does that boost them up to an A?  No?  Well, is there anything they can do? 

In a word: No.  No, I didn't see the blog, and even when I added the extra points in for that, it didn't bring the grade up to an A.  For fuck's sake, they'd brought a D to a B just by turning in that one late paper.  And no, there is nothing they can do at this point.)

I am so done. 

And I am so ready to write full-time. 

Speaking of which...'scuse me.  Gotta go build word count. 

*I don't do final exam.  I do a last chance for late work that isn't a discussion board forum for class participation. 

Bittersweet?

Sorta. 

I've been teaching college for fourteen years, twelve of those at my current institution.  Same classes: Composition 1 or 2.  I've seen brilliant classes, and I've seen horrid classes.  Mostly, I've seen preparation dropping incrementally--not necessarily being prepared for the level of writing, but preparation for life in general, and due dates in specific.  I've enjoyed helping those that need the extra help find it, or figure things out.  I will miss that.  

I'll miss the classroom.  I'll miss interacting with students, and watching them learn things.  I'll miss challenging assumptions, and having mine challenged intelligently.  I'll miss reading their ideas.

I won't miss grading.  I won't miss the idea that there are certain things that Shall Not Be Said, certain ideas that Shall Not Be Challenged.  I won't miss knowing that some demographics must be handed a grade, and a good one, that they didn't work for.  I won't miss the idiots who don't want to be there, refuse to engage, and sometimes won't do even the minimum to pass. 

I won't miss the department. It is not what it once was. 

I won't miss how awful I felt after teaching only two classes. 

I won't miss being unable to take care of my home and family. 

Yesterday was my last day.  Tomorrow is the last day I spend grading things turned in on time.  Monday and Tuesday, I grade last-chance work and revisions, and I turn in final grades.  Monday and Tuesday, I fill out the Research Paper rubric for the department for my two classes.  And Tuesday, I turn my gradebooks and the rubrics in to the department via email.

After that, it's just waiting for December's paycheck to come in on the last working day on campus, and I'm finished with academia. 

Warning: nerd reference...

I feel like shaking a bat'leth over my head, screaming "Qapla'!"

Five years or so ago, we decided to retire our big Christmas tree.  We packed it away in storage, in more than one box (do NOT ask me why--I've forgotten what passed for reasoning), when we packed away our baby-proof fencing.  We got a 3' tree that stood atop the stereo for the Christmas after we removed the fencing, and got the kittens. 

Partially because we didn't trust the kittens, but mostly because there simply wasn't room for the tree. 

Well, with the new house, we have room.  More than enough room, even.  So we went hunting for the tree.  Odysseus found one part of it on Wednesday (I think--don't quote me on that; it was a long day), I found another part yesterday, and had the imp haul both pieces in from the garage, and put them in the corner behind Odysseus's recliner. 

We'd found the bottom and the middle.  I had high hopes of finding the top and feet in one of the boxes still in the garage. 

And so we did. 

And so the tree is put together, and standing, and plugged in. 

Tomorrow, we have to go buy more things to add to the decorations we have.  Because we absolutely do not have enough, not of garland, and not of baubles. 

But for tonight, I'm just going to bask in the success of simply finding the whole thing. 

Last paper...

On Tuesday, I picked up the last paper I will ever teach.  Or grade.  I'm working on grading them, now. 

Yesterday was an utter bust on the work front--I had a doctor's appointment first thing in the morning, and spent most of the rest of the day with Odysseus.  I really enjoyed most of that, but we wound up INCREDIBLY frustrated, at one point.  We had received the tax bills for the old house and for the cars, but not one for the new house (we don't do escrow for things like this or insurance--I'd rather that money sit  in savings while we're building it up and earn interest for us).  So, we went to the county seat to get it printed, because whether we're actually sent the tax bill or not, we're still responsible for it.

I am glad we did, and incredibly annoyed at our title place.  Either they or the assessor's office had screwed up, and we do not, at the moment, have clean title.  Probate paperwork wasn't filed, or was filed incorrectly, and our house was still in the previous owner's name (and she's been dead for three years). 

But yeah, between finding that out, running around trying to get things arranged with the doctor's office, finalize pixie birthday presents, grabbing some gluten-free things that are only carried by one store on the far side of town (diagonally) from my house, and doing a few other things, I got jack shit done where grading is concerned. 

Writing is another issue, and is done long-hand, while waiting for the doctor to actually poke her head in, spend three minutes talking to me about how my meds are working, and take off again because as one of THREE endos in the only office in the area, she's overbooked.  I just have to transcribe what I have scribbled.

My next several days are going to be eaten up with the last grading I will ever do, though.  I have two more class days next week, and last chance finals* during the week after.  Tuesday, 12/12, will see me turning in my last class's final grades. 

Until then, however...grading.

*My university's absolute SUPERgenius of a president had decreed that EVERY class MUST have something graded during the two hour block set aside for that class's finals (including choir).  I teach a skills class.  I do not teach a knowledge class.  But because the SUPERgenius has made an executive order, I HAVE to do something, and I set this up before I was fired, so it's unfair to change it now.  I set up that I will accept, by email attachment ONLY, during the two hour block set aside for THAT CLASS'S FINALS ONLY, any paper that didn't make the due date.  No revision allowed, but a 50% is better than a 0. 

Occasionally, very occasionally...

...the deals are worth venturing out (the day after) for.

I found out, during a recent flare-up of the CFS, that my desk chair I'd bought to fit the desk wouldn't work when I was feeling bad.  It's not that uncomfortable when I'm okay, but it's really not very soft, and isn't very good at all when I hurt all over.

The kids, however, love it.  So it will be serving its purpose as a second homework chair at the homework table. 

Today, I got an email flyer from Office Depot.  One of the chairs I'd been eyeing (which had already been marked down from $199.99 to $99.99) was marked down further.  Down to $67.99.  For Black Friday.  I glanced at the time/date stamp on the email, fairly certain that the deal was done, since it was Saturday...it wasn't.  The email was sent this morning, and the chair was still marked down.  So.  I have a new chair.  I have a $200 office chair--a burgundy leather executive's chair--that I paid $75 for, after the government's share had been levied.* 

It's damn comfortable.  And fairly attractive, as office chairs go. 

I should be really good writing in this thing for a long time.  Odysseus has had his comfy office chair for going on seven years, now.

Speaking of writing...I'm working hard on that front.  I finished Detritus last week, in first draft.  I'm working on finishing off Normalcy Bias--I think there's one more story in that, and I don't know how long it is.  Next will be The Schrodinger Paradox.  

I have found that children in the house are not conducive to productivity, so I'll be treating this like a full time job...during the school year.  The rest of the time, it'll have to take a back seat to parenting.  But I should still be able to keep the ambitious publication schedule I set for myself, of something coming out every other month.

*You know, I really would not mind having the federal government/state governments funded by an end use tax...on the condition that the amendment permitting the income tax is repealed, and the tax on income ended entirely and forever.  Barring that, I am not now, and nor will I ever be in favor of an end-use tax being levied as a "fair tax."  A flat tax on all income over about $15K/yr for singles, or $40K/yr per family of four is a far better option.

Because laws work so well...

I've heard lots of screeching about banning guns recently.  One ignorant twatwaffle even went so far as to whine "Well, at least then we'll know the people with guns are criminals!"

Right.  Like that prevents mass shootings...or any shootings, really.  Because the law abiding don't ever do anything to prevent and/or stop those.  Uh-huh.  Sure.  Tell that to the church shooter in Texas (oh, wait--you can't, because an NRA shooting instructor shot him). 

California was the scene of the latest shooting splattered all over the news.  Shooter chose a gun free zone to minimize anyone shooting back (as most of them do).  A school.  During morning drop-off time. 

Well, why didn't we just take his guns?  Why don't we take everybody's guns so that more children aren't being brutally dismembered in their mothers' wombs (oh, wait--that's abortion, not a school shooting)--er, shot going into their school building?

Well, as it turns out, he had had his guns removed.  And it worked so well to stop him that--well, it didn't.  He stole two, and built two more.  Yes, built.  Because guns are such complicated machines that it's possible to build them with enough time and a few power tools.  Especially since the LOWER RECEIVER is what determines that it's a firearm.  You know, one of the less complicated parts. 

The best way to prevent mass shootings is to remove the shooting galleries gun free zones.  Let the law abiding carry...and shoot back when one of these scumbuckets tries this on. 

You know, there's a good reason why I do not venture into a posted gun free zone.  Any gun free zone that is not also a police department/sheriff's department.   I am not an easy victim, and will not permit some paper pushing trembling twatstain who's terrified of their own lack of emotional control and projects that on everybody to make me a disarmed victim. 

Just another reason I'm relieved to be leaving the university.  My last day on campus is Pearl Harbor Day. 

Counting down, now.

I have five class days left of the semester.  Only that.  I have the Tuesday before Thanksgiving (which might as well be cancelled, given the likely attendance), and two Tuesday classes and two Thursday classes after.  Last day of class is 12/7; final exams week is FUBARed, so I'll actually have one class have its final exam on a Monday.  For a Tuesday/Thursday class.  The other one is half an hour off on its times on Tuesday.  The bad side is that the university has completely screwed up a final exams scheduling system that has worked for decades; the good side is that I'll have final grades turned in by Tuesday night.  And then I'm completely done with academia after my last check cleared.

As for what I'll do without that job...I'll be writing.

I'm also counting down on Detritus.  I'm on the next to last chapter.  It might stretch to 40K words, but that'll be it.  It has fought me every step of the way since I decided that it was going to have a hopeful ending. 

Probably not going to publish in hard copy for this one.  Just Kindle.  Look for it in January.

I've got two more short stories to write for the collection I'm putting together, and one to edit and revise.  Probably get that done in fair short order, since the stories aren't fighting me.  I can knock out a short story in about two or three hours, depending on length.  I'm not that fast of a typist. 

Sales and KU reads are spiraling up slowly.  I'm trying to figure a balance between promoting my work (with NO budget for advertising, or for book signings in my local bookstore that does that sort of thing) and spamming my Facebook/blog contacts.  I really don't want to do the spamming thing; if I'm headed in that direction, let me know. 

One of the projects I'm considering for the future is a short manual on Adulting 101, including things like how to do your laundry, how to build a budget, how to plan a menu for a week, how to shop wisely...things that parents are supposed to teach their kids but often don't, either through being to busy or through thinking that it's faster and easier on the household if they just do it for their kids. 

I think I can turn this into an alternate career.  I'm certainly trying.  The time between being employed and being self-employed is certainly ticking away faster than I'd thought it would.  

Second to last

Last week, I got hit with a CFS flare.  A bad one.  I'm recovering, now, but I had to cancel office hours Thursday and come home to go to bed. 

I probably should have spent all of Wednesday in bed, but I'm just too stupid-stubborn--there was writing to be done.

No, I didn't get it done.  I got a few words added, but brain fog makes functioning, much less braining, really hard.  I should have just gone to bed.  It might not have gotten so bad if I had.  Or at least I should have moved to my recliner, laptop, keyboard, and all.

Thursday, I picked up the practical proposal paper.  The fourth paper of five papers (plus a blogging assignment).  The last ones I will likely ever grade.  I am wistful about this, but also glad. 

I truly enjoy reading papers and offering feedback on what went wrong, how to fix it, and how to not do it again in the future.  I don't enjoy not being allowed to do more than mark that there IS a mistake, much less what mistake they've made, in grammar, structure, or punctuation.  I don't enjoy deciding what grade to put on a paper, either. 

And then, I introduced the last full paper the class will write.  Like always, I use this final paper as an unofficial final exam (that they're allowed to revise if they earn under 90%.  And some do, not because the paper's bad, but because they somehow missed out on doing some part of citing the sources). 

I am not a low-energy teacher.  Even when I have none to spare. 

So, Thursday, I spent half of it teaching, and the other half in bed.  And never managed to get my brain working well enough to finish the last little bit of Detritus before I picked up the paper, or get any of the drafts I picked up graded. 

This coming week is going to be busy grading the second to last paper, and teaching the source credibility guidelines and citation guidelines for the last paper.  The next week will be Thanksgiving Break.  The following week is when paper 5 is due. 

But that's future workloads.  Right now, I need to grade the second to last paper instead of worrying about the last one coming in.

November

It's NaNoWriMo once again.  National Novel Writers' Month.  Yes, I am participating...sort of.  I'm going to be trying to finish three unfinished projects this month--four, if I can manage it. 

Current project: Not yet sure if it's a short novel or long novella.  Detritus.*  Started out with 21.5K words (about 47 pgs, typed, single-spaced, in 12 pt font in Word).  Reviewed and revised all 21.5 K words, and added 2K today.  I know where it's going, and how it's getting there; I'm only limited by typing time and speed (including almost 5 hrs spent on campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays, though tomorrow is freewrite/research day for my students).  I may be finished with a first draft of this one before the weekend's out.  I'm planning on releasing it sometime in January.  Whether I release it as Kindle only or as a CreateSpace paperback is still up in the air.

Next project: Normalcy Bias.  I've got two more stories in that collection to pull from my draft book and type.  Probably will wind up at around 45-50K words, altogether; currently sitting at 36K or so.  I plan on either picking that up immediately following finishing the previous, or just after I finish grading the papers I pick up a week from tomorrow.  Hoping to release it sometime in March or so.

End of the month: The Schrodinger Paradox.**  Again, I know where that one's going, and how it's getting there, but there's a LOT more typing to do--something like another 30K words.  I hope to have it totally finished before the kids are out for Christmas Break, but considering end of semester stuff/catch up housecleaning/Christmas decorating and shopping, I'm not going to be guaranteeing it.  I'm just hoping I can get the first draft finished, and get the alpha readers' feedback incorporated into a second draft before the start of the year.  This one is going to a publishing house's slush pile.  I should hear back in 9 months to a year. 

Assuming I get the first draft of Schrodinger totally finished, and have time left, I'll pick up a vampire story I'd set down a few years ago, and see what I can finish of that.***

Don't worry--this will be the last post I write about writing this month.  I will not spend the whole month griping about how it is (or isn't) going according to plan, and messing with my life (what there is of that).  

*I've found for this one, The Rolling Stones or Shaman's Harvest really gets the words flowing from the keys.  The Pretty Reckless almost does it, but not quite.  

**Figured out that it's not the music stalling things.  It was the fact that I wanted to start it in a place/time it didn't want to be started.  Music is still Starset. 

***The story of how the main character wakes up dead is one of the ones in Normalcy Bias. 

My blankie

It isn't a blankie, per se.  It's books.  I have found that being surrounded by books has a significant positive effect on my mental and emotional well-being. 

I have a bookcase full of books to my left at my new desk.  I will have one to my right soon enough.  Both in my peripheral vision while I'm at my desk working (which is actually a lot of the time, now).

At the old house, we had 400 sq. ft. smaller of an area to work with.  We had three bedrooms, one living space, an eat-in kitchen, and a utility room/pantry.  One wall on the living room had bookcases (not very tall), one wall had storage cubbies, and one had the TV and DVDs.  Our bedroom held the majority of books that weren't in storage.

I love my children dearly.  I love my children enough that I gave up having a library so that the pixie and imp didn't have to share a bedroom. 

That actually put something like 3/4 of our books in storage.

Those are slowly being brought back out.  The low bookcases that were in the living room now reside one each in the kids' rooms.  Because their grandpa made them.  We have a 3 shelf bookcase in the family room with kids' books in it, a knock together 5 shelf (modified with an extra from one that fell apart), a similar quality 4 shelf one (that will likely move to the master bedroom in a few months), and two solid wood hand made 6 shelf bookcases.  Every one is packed with books, and most of our books are still in boxes in the garage. 

By the time this room is finished, we will have three bookcases full of books on the long wall with the doorway, and maybe five on the opposite wall.  The short wall shared with the family room has four big pass through openings from waist high to about a foot from the ceiling, and the outside wall has a huge window overlooking the front yard, road, and trees across the road.  And this is where my desk is set. 

For the past three and a half years, I've taught my classes in the university library.  Even though I'm not surrounded by books in the classroom, the smell pervades.  It grants a level of peace and serenity that I otherwise wouldn't have had.  For the past seven years, I've been without the majority of books at home, because until we found and purchased this beautiful place, we simply didn't have the room.

Well, that, and we didn't trust the kids (particularly the pixie) to not climb the bookcases.

But now, the kids are older (and taller, and know where the step-stools are), and we do have the room.  It may take a while (and a LOT of work), but my library is being rebuilt with solid wood replacing particle board.*

*The bookcases we had made of particle board were sagging, breaking pegs, and listing under the weight of the load of books on their shelves.  I'm glad to have solid wood ones going in.

...and CreateSpace is back.

Good thing, too.  I'm not unhappy with the quality of Amazon's print on demand paperbacks, but I'm not happy with it, either.  It's several steps below CreateSpace--standard pulp fiction paper. 

Yes, that means I got my copy.  I'm also not happy with that process.  Where CreateSpace permits for author copies to be ordered, Amazon does not.  You have to pay full list price for one of your books. 

I admire Amazon for making the effort, but the effort falls far short of what it should turn out.  And doesn't make things simple for authors at all. 

Now available in Kindle:

(And yes, I have set it available to read for free on Kindle Unlimited--just like all of my other books--for those of you who are curious, but don't want to shell out a few bucks to buy them)



This went live last night.  My cover artist is on Facebook, paints a lot, and sells her work.  If you're interested in looking her up, her name is Rhonda Palmer.

I fully credit Dorothy Grant with the cover copy/description of the book.  Mine sucked.  Big time.

I am getting back to writing The Schrodinger Paradox.  I know exactly where it's going, and may have part 3 done before the end of the month.  Maybe.  I also have papers coming due as of tomorrow. 

Realizations

So, since I am finishing out my final few weeks of my last semester, I've come to a few realizations.  Realization the first: I am sick of academia.  Last week, there was a Hijab Day on campus.  The Muslim Student Association hosted a series of presentations lying about what the function of the garment was for the culture, and how it was a choice to wear it.  They also had scarves and Muslim girls to teach the Western girls how to wear them, and selfie booths.  They complained, the day after, about how few people bought their bullshit were interested in what they had to say/try on the mark of being considered subhuman. 

I also have to walk on eggshells grading the papers of minorities, or trying to get anyone to question their assumptions (or even admit that there are unstated assumptions underlying claims that may make them absolutely the opposite of persuasive to those who do not share those assumptions). 

I am, and have been, sick of the atmosphere on campus for years, now.  I'm sure that the Soviet Union was worse, but only because they'd actually kill you for holding a dissenting opinion (though I'm sure Berkley would like to head in that direction). 

Realization the second: my Office suite comes to me through the university.  I may have to either switch to Open Office, despite not liking it nearly as well, or hope that I can continue using it for a while.  Because I can't buy a copy right now. 

Realization the third: One of the reasons I've not been writing is that I simply didn't have the energy, mental, emotional, or spiritual, to write.  The other is that I was so damn miserable that I was reading instead of writing, retreating into places other than the one I was in.  Part of that was the awful health problems (not resolved, but mitigated, and managed to the extent they could be), part was the horrid neighbors that moved in next door in '15, and part was dreading going back at the start of each semester.

Realization the fourth: Teaching takes a lot more out of me than I thought it did.  I'm capable of doing a lot more if I am not also in front of a classroom for six hours a week, interacting with students.  I don't know if it's the social interaction draining me, or if it's the way I teach (active, all over the classroom, and hanging over shoulders during group and individual worktime, monitoring how my students are doing and offering suggestions and help). 

Realization the fifth: I can be writing a LOT with it set as my fulltime "job."  I can do around 1500 words per hour.  If the story's coming well, I can do somewhere around 4-6K words per day, before I'm fried.  And my endurance may climb after a while.  And I've got work enough for a while--I have a LOT of ideas I just haven't had time or energy to develop. 

A thought...

I've been noting a lot of noise surrounding Weinstein and his treatment of women.  More to the point, his assaults.  There've been a LOT of people coming forward, admitting that they've been harassed, molested, and/or raped.  It isn't just women, either--it's women, men, and children.  And from the sounds of it, it's endemic in the industry. 

Everyone knows of how Roman Polanski raped a thirteen year old girl, then flipped her over and raped her ass when she was afraid to fight him off for fear that she'd never be able to fulfill her dream of acting and told him she wasn't on the pill.  He ignored her protests, ignored her saying no, and forced himself on a child.

And Whoopi Goldberg said it wasn't "rape, rape," because she didn't fight. 

Several years ago, Corey Haim committed suicide.  Because he was repeatedly raped in his teens by directors he didn't name.  Corey Feldman almost self-destructed with drugs and alcohol for the same reason.  He still doesn't name them, but unlike all of  these other victims coming out as victims, he explained why.

It's not because he's afraid he'll never work in Hollywood again (he doesn't anymore; why would he be afraid of that?). 

It's because his predators have made it absolutely clear to him that, should he name names, they'll take him to court for defamation of character. 

They'd win, too.  They still have HUGE amounts of money rolling in.  They feel safe from being investigated, much less charged and/or convicted. 

The individuals howling for actors of all ages and sexes to name names either don't know this, or they don't care that the victims would be harmed again, would have to relive that trauma again during the lawsuits, would still lose, and all at the hands of the predators that had hurt them in the first place.