Monday, October 12, 2015

Things you can run out of while looking for your missing cat:
  • fliers
  • tape
  • staples (once you've upgraded from packing tape to a brand new staple gun)
  • energy (for asking strangers if they've seen the cat and then talking with them about how you miss her)
  • breath (for playing the ocarina she loves)
  • will-power (to keep singing the song from when she was a tiny kitten about how you love her and miss her when she's gone)

Friday, April 10, 2015

I used to check out seasons of Farscape from the library when I lived in Seattle.  The Seattle Public Library would only let you check out a book (or DVD... or set of DVDs) for one week.  And you couldn't renew it if someone else had a hold on it.  Well, all the seasons of Farscape had dozens of holds on them.  You had to wait until your turn to check them out.  And, then, you only had one week to watch the whole season.

Watching a whole season of Farscape in just one week...  Well, it made me think of the description of a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster from The Hitchhiker's Guide -- "like having your brains smashed in by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick."

Today, I watched the last episode of Glee.  I could tell you what I thought of Glee...  But, suffice it to say, I thought enough of it to keep watching.  For six years.

I can't help but think that Glee was a six-year-long Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster.

I think I'd better go lie down for a bit.

Thursday, December 25, 2014

I seem to remember about this blog on Christmas Eve...

This year, I organized a bunch of my science fiction and space opera stories into three collections:  Welcome to Wespirtech, Beyond Wespirtech, and The Opposite of Memory.  The first two collections are exclusively space opera stories set in my Wespirtech universe -- zany scientists invent crazy things, surrounded by spaceships and aliens.  Imagine Caltech in space.  The third collection features a wider range of science-fiction styles -- near future stories involving memory drugs; surreal pieces; and a few Wespirtech stories -- but they all have to do with the intersection of science, technology, and humanity.

For the next week, until New Year's, you can download Welcome to Wespirtech for free from Smashwords with the following coupon code:  BR87B

And, because it's the holidays, you can also get my novel, Otters In Space, with this code:  DF87E

If you do read either of them, please consider leaving a review.  Thank you, and happy holidays!

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Event:  Stapler jams for the billionth time while stapling manuscripts to hand out at Wordos.

Lightning fast thought process:  I should finally get around to buying a better stapler.  But I only use the stapler for Wordos manuscripts, and the majority of Wordos seem to read manuscripts on electronic devices now.  But if I move to Seattle and have to start a new writing group, then it won't have a website where we can post stories for each other unless I learn how to create a website like that.  But I don't know how to make a website like that, so we'll have to use paper manuscripts.  But I can't staple paper manuscripts with this stupid broken stapler.

Irrational conclusion:  I'll never be able to create a new writing group, because my stapler doesn't work.

Resulting action:  Slam my hand against the desk, scattering loose sheets of manuscript everywhere and severely bruising my thumb.

Friday, May 16, 2014

Trying to organize my short stories into anthologies feels like being shown a pile of buttons and being told, "These are supposed to be divided into three groups -- if you divide them up right, they'll crystallize into three perfect, beautiful gemstones; but, if you divide them up wrong, we're going to zap you with an electric shock."

So I stare at the buttons and push them around meaninglessly between three different piles.


I think I have a lineup for three anthologies that I hope to publish between now and the end of the summer:  "Welcome to Wespirtech," "Beyond Wespirtech," and "The Opposite of Memory."  Hopefully, this will make my short stories much more accessible to people searching for e-books that they'd like to read.

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Written on Christmas Eve:

At six months old, we figured Wesley was still small enough to watch us assemble his Christmas present and then put it under the tree. He mostly slept while we snapped the brightly colored plastic pieces together, but when we put his new "bike" under the tree next to his sister's new green bicycle, it was the most beautiful object he'd ever seen. We let him play with it a little, and he was delighted that it was so big and yet -- because of its wheels -- he could move it around, shoving it backward and forward. He was so excited, he nearly started to crawl for the first time.

Now, at three in the morning, he's looking at me, swaddled in bed, as if to say, "Why would I sleep? I have a new bike downstairs."

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

When Elaine has trouble sleeping, she comes downstairs to ask for a dream.  Her dad or I then tell her a brief sketch of a story, a starting place for something to dream about.  Once I told her that she had a basket of puppies, and each of the puppies had an amazing skill -- one played beautiful music on the piano while another one whipped up a delicious meal.  Lately, though, all of the dreams feature a set of characters that her dad introduced:  the space moose.

The space moose came down in a giant spaceship, each of them wearing a helmet large enough to cover its entire head, including antlers.  Every night, the space moose, Elaine, and her closest companion Hobbes go on grand adventures together.  They took a road trip to a glittering, diamond city, and at the top of the tallest building all the birds flying around could talk to them.  Another time, the space moose made Elaine her own giant helmet with antlers in it, and they all played a game much like Calvin Ball.  And once the space moose asked Elaine to help them build an ice cream sundae as big as a planet.

Tonight, Elaine's dad told her that the space moose plan to take her to a space restaurant where you can order anything, even a sock-and-ice-cream sandwich, followed by a trip to the space zoo.

I asked Elaine what she planned to order at the space restaurant.

After some thought, she said, "A jacket-and-computer lasagna.  And a tuna-sock-and-fork sandwich for Hobbes."

I asked what animal she was most excited to see at the space zoo.

Without hesitation, she said something with a lot of 's' sounds in it.  When I asked what that creature looked like, she said that she didn't know.

"Then, you'd better hurry off to bed," I said, "so that you can find out."