Event Schedule, Summer 2014

I'll be attending three Cons this summer:

SchlossCon2 (Annual Meeting of the Science Fiction Club Deutschland) in Schwerin, 11-13 July
 LonCon3 (72nd World Science Fiction Convention) in London, 14-18 August
Shamrokon (Eurocon 2014) in Dublin, 22-24 August


SchlossCon2: The schedule is on the Schlosscon2 website. There will be a Kaffeeklatsch on Saturday morning (11:00) and a popular science presentation (from my better half with only a little help from me) later that day (15:30)

LonCon3: Program is online. I'll be on with Scientists Without Borders, Thursday (13:30-15:00) and Sulky Giant Robots, Sunday (18:00-19:00)

Shamrokon: Program to be announced. Shamrokon is still putting together it's program, so I'll update as soon as I know anything more specific, but I'm optimistic that I'll be participating here as well.

I look forward to seeing some of you at one or the other of these events!

The Dilemming of the Middle

I'm having a nice time-out for a couple of days while waiting for the print proofs and cover for Shaky Ground. It's time to reflect.

I don't usually blog about writing (who the hell needs that), but in the course of a discussion in our critique group, Richard mentioned the quandaries of writing long versus short fiction, it got me going. Another member of the group also distracted me by mentioning hand puppets, and I laid in bed this morning trying to get the picture of Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop out of my head. I think my brain is trying to destress, but it's going about it in a very weird way.

a blue-haired dilemming

For the past two years, I've been concentrating my efforts on learning how to write long. Not 'how to write a novel' per se - to paraphrase Gaiman, you only learn to write the novel you're currently writing. But writing long has different requirements than writing short, one of which is sustaining a story for 100,000 words. Which means solving the very difficult problem, what I call, the dilemming* of 'the middle', in addition to the beginning and the end. I've put down two books lately that failed 'the middle'. Both were contemporary fantasy, fast-paced with lots of supernatural stuff. Just my kind of thing. I didn't even get halfway with either of them before the 'meh' factor kicked in. But I will pick them up again. Someday. Maybe. Maybe I just got sidetracked. Maybe not.

I have huge qualms about middles at the moment. Is it showing? Or is it just these jeans? I guess I'm mostly afraid about my own 'middle' of the upcoming book - will my readers think it 'meh' - or any book I'm writing, really.  While the beginning has to grab, titillate and propel the reader into the novel, make them care about the characters and what's going to happen to them, and the end has to satisfy by justifying every premise set up in the beginning, the middle has to weave us into, through, and around the story, keep us turning the pages, and make us think about the darn thing enough that we pick up the same book the next day (or not be able to put it down and turn off the light). While I wouldn't say beginnings and endings are easy, middles are the pancreatic cancer of most stories - it's very hard to detect what's wrong, you don't feel it while you're writing, and when you do figure it out, it's often fatal.

Writing short requires making a story complete and beautiful and perfect in less than 10,000 words. I admire people who can do that. Since I've been reading submissions for Albedo One, there's usually only one story (two at the most, on average) in a batch that I read all the way through. Middles are a huge dilemming for short stories as well, and that's where I usually get stuck. Endings are a different problem and just as huge, but we'll save that for another day.

I wouldn't say it takes more skill to write short than long. It's a different skill. Most writers seem better at one than another. Some can do both. I'd like to be one of the latter, but I'm not there yet. Not even close.

Okay, back to reading a 1700's Scottish Highland romance (no, not that one, another one). I'm just getting to the middle and still have hopes for this one despite the gushiness of the protagonist. 

What are your biggest writing dilemmings these days?

*a cross between a small mammal who throws itself off cliffs and an intractable problem.


photo credit: the foosel via photopin cc

The Latest from Frog Central

Seismic Amphibians

At the Earthquake Observatory of the University of Cologne (in Bensberg) we have frogs and toads. And no, that's not a euphemism for our current crop of students. I see them whenever I go downstairs to my basement office as this window - a rain gutter window - is usually home to several at any one time, depending on the season and the weather. Since we are in the midst of a very rainy summer here in Bensberg, there is currently a healthy population. There are around ten of them in there today.

We at first thought they were falling through the grating above the window, and would carry them back down to the large pond on the Bensberg grounds, imagining ourselves with do-gooders' halos. I imagine the frogs were slapping themselves on their froggy foreheads at this. They don't 'fall in', they 'fall up'. They travel upwards and backwards through the drainage pipe - which comes out near the pond - to enter the drainage window. Why they do this is a mystery (any frog experts out there?), but they seem to enjoy being in there. They also seem to enjoy observing us and regularly clatter up to the tiny ledge on the window to see what those weird two-legged simians inside the window are doing.

I'm looking at you.

Students and staff occasionally add a bit of furniture to spruce the place up - a branch for climbing up to the small window ledge where these frogs are doing their ballet - an improvised garden consisting of a container with some moss and other plant material (since dried up, but the frogs don't seem to mind) - an ash tray with a tiny bit of water, a mini-pond - and various pieces of bark and rock for them to crawl over and under and otherwise declare as their piece of sacred ground.

They range in size from the tiniest frog (less than a centimeter), to good-sized toad - like the one in the picture; he's on the bottom. Newts also show up less often, those gadflies of the amphibian world, but they're harder to spot. National Geographic's Lucy Cooke does in-depth views on frogs and toads and other 'creepy' animals, so check it out if you want some more frogginess.

Frog ballet in Bensberg

Now, if we can only train them to predict earthquakes, I think our fortune would be made.

Rainy Day Blues

I'm on my third cup of jasmine-flavored organic green tea today after a half a pot of coffee this morning. My right shoulder aches and my thumb is twitching - my second bout of butt-in-chair induced pain - that no amount of the German version of Ben Gay ointment is going to cure and it's raining giant slop buckets so I can't go out and dig weeds or do anything...anything. I just threw a whammy into the whole goddarned outline of my fifth (and last, dammit) series book (now up to 20K) while I gather untold amounts of research material for the historical mystery I'm writing next despite being hopelessly intimidated by the historical writing workshop I just took which made me realize just how inadequate I am to even think I can write historical fiction. But I do have a field trip planned for next month :-)) For the day job I've got about two months to 'reacquaint' myself with modeling gravity data which I haven't done since 25 years or so when I wrote my M.S. 


But a few rays of sunshine sent me outside to admire the garden.

you can see why they call it Passion Flower - meet Lavender Lady

Ligularia being hidden by Silphium perfoliatum and white yarrow

rain-spots on roses backed by pink astilbe and weedy agastache

Clematis 'The President' blooming very late this year with companion pink rose disintegrating in the background

Telekia and Veronica coexisting as good neighbors

Little Kitties for Big Cats

My kitty would definitely want to help his larger cousins, so I chipped in for him. You can, too.

And get your kitty's photo posted. Here's mine.

: 

Ramses, age 14, male, likes: ham, Greek yoghurt; doesn't like: car rides, canned rabbit

A day in Heidelberg

After several hours in Professor Maran's office above the student cafeteria at the University of Heidelberg, we finally checked off all the points on the list of things to discuss in preparation for our upcoming field campaign in ancient Tiryns, Greece (more to come on that in a later post).

Just two days before the summer solstice, the warm air in the enclosed space had made us sleepy. We adjourned immediately to the outdoor tables and equipped ourselves with beer to enjoy some sunshine. It was fun watching students - of all ages and nationalities - enjoying the fine weather.

After a light dinner in the Altstadt, we wandered over the cobblestone streets looking for a nice place to enjoy a drink after sunset. It was then I realized - once again - that my Chucks were inadequate protection from Cobblestone Foot Pain. That's when I began pointing to random bars and shouting, 'Look, they have tables. And chairs!' and 'Oh, how nice, looks like the perfect place to grab a drink.' We finally ended up just a few feet from our inner city hotel. My feet sighed in relief.

Cobblestones are not only responsible for Foot Woes, they, along with narrow streets, are perfect acoustic reflectors. Just as I was about to drift into sleep in my hotel bed, the entire population of a small but loud country, began partying outside our hotel window. Since I didn't have any offal handy to dump on their heads, I had to endure it. The garbage collectors completed the restful experience at around 6:00 a.m.

After a hearty German breakfast, 'we' decided to ascend the Philosopher's Walk, a historic path on the northern bank of the Neckar River that winds its way up and around the Heiligenberg and that would afford us a spectacular view of the city and Heidelberg castle. I spoke quietly to my Chucks, begging them to be nice. Not wanting to be wimpy, I endured the pain and the ascent, but it wasn't pretty. People at least a decade older than me were passing me without even breathing hard. A reminder that I've had way too much butt-in-chair time lately. 

But finally I got to the top. And it was worth it. Even though I didn't feel at all like talking existentialism, it was quite relaxing and peaceful.

 

View of Heidelberg castle from the Philosopher's Way

Heidelberg from above

View of the city from across the Neckar River

 

Then we had to skedaddle back down the trail as it was time to head back to rainy Cologne. It's no wonder that every tourist has Heidelberg at the top of its list. My only wish was for one more day and a decent pair of walking shoes.

Hiatus, anyone?

I apologize for my loooooooooooong silence on this blog. I have been working steadily (but much too slowly) on finishing my fourth book (but my first hard SF effort), Gravity's Gift. It has been a difficult but rewarding journey, and once I have put some finishing touches on the first draft and shoved it into a drawer for a brief but necessary slumber, I will have the freedom to do many other things.

Like laundry.

And gardening.

And actually going outside. Whoa. There's a whole world out there.

And writing some short stories. (YAY! Short stories).

And writing some more blog posts.

Meeting Prague

Arrived today in Prague for a four-day stay - my second trip as 'just spouse' and this time with an accompanying teenager.

Prague is a lovely city, a completely chaotic mix of old world, new world - complete with KFC, TGIF, and the same high-priced stores you see in any major European city - and the lingering remains of dreadful East bloc architecture on the outskirts of the city.

 Walking through the generous pedestrian zones, Gothic figures stared down from buildings on nearly every corner in addition to gold-filigreed ornaments and lots and lots of cobblestones. Note to self - do not wear your chucks to cities with lots and lots of cobblestones. My feet are killing me. But it was worth it. We saw the Charles Bridge, the Astrological Clock (Death rings the bell every hour) and enjoyed the brilliant October sunshine along with (it seemed like) thousands of others.

We passed by the Kepler Museum (he was born in Regensburg, Germany but he worked here) and the Kafka Museum in addition to the Museum of Medieval Torture Instruments and the Sex Machine Museum. I wasn't allowed in the last two (although my interest was definitely piqued by the entry hall exhibits). I'm going to be looking for an art museum nearby to drag my son to, and we'll be doing a grand tour, including the Prague Castle on Wednesday.

And you've got to love a language where the letters are topped by smiles and accenty-things. It's so cheerful even if you don't understand a word. The people are as friendly as their language. Four days is not going to be nearly enough.

Still Life with Bunnies

Only three days into our visit from the Trained Goldsby Bunnies, Nelly and Lila, I already have my first battle scar, a four-inch scratch on my arm. Luckily, we also own a cat, Ramses, commonly known as 'Miezie' or 'Hey, you, cat', so instead of having to admit that I was mauled by the rabbit equivalent of Hello Kitty, I can tell everyone my vicious cat attacked me.

Who needs chainsaws? These bunnies, cleverly disguised with cotton tails and twitchy bunny noses, are out for blood. At least Nelly is. Lila just aims her floppy ears at me like two samurai swords as if to say, 'Go on, make my day.' That and her likely seismically significant kicks against the rabbit stall are enough even to make Ramses take the long way around the patio. Not that's he's afwaid of a widdle wabbit. Nope. He just, ahem, wants to go that way. I can't say I blame him.

But I also can't actually blame Nelly or Iila. For them, the whole world is composed of things that want to eat them. Like the falcon I saw circling the trees yesterday. It already probed ingress into the house sparrow villa in our eaves. Luckily, the bunnies are safe in their stall and only have to contend with jumpy-assed cats and cursing writers (I think only one f-word escaped during the bunny battle) until their owners return.

In the meantime, I'm putting the gloves on for these cute but deadly beasties.

Are we there yet?

Yes, we are.

Welcome.

I do lots of things in the kitchen. Writing, cooking, even seed planting.

At the moment there are at least 20 seed packets scattered across the kitchen table. Today I've planted baby corn (in giant pots, an experiment that has a high potential to go bad), round yellow zucchini, Italian Borlotto beans, ipomoea 'Hazelwood Blues' and fed about a dozen cutworms to the blackbirds while weeding.

I've also made pudding to go with the compote made from rhubarb fresh from the garden and I've just put the potato salad in the refrigerator to go with the hot dogs for dinner.

Yep. It must be summer.