Gaiminspiration

Very brief blogalog, just to inform my two active readers as to my latest goings-ons and plans.

Two of my Wives and I returned from a wee road trip yesterday. We drove to Billings to see a little-known author give a few speeches and read some stories to celebrate the opening of Billings' new library. No big deal. Just Neil Gaiman.

Shrill screamiiiiiiiiiing!!

I'm still trying to put my thoughts into some semblance of order. I--just--Neil Gaiman. He read stories. He talked about literacy. He had a beard, because his wife (who happens to be the head Goddess worshiped on The Good Ship Looney) likes the scruffy handsome hobo beard he developed whilst working on his most recent writing.

Shrill screaming (Part 2)!!!

He did a question/answer section after he was finished reading. One of the note cards he chose to read aloud and answer was written by Wifey. It was a question about me, about a lovely rejection I'd received comparing my writing to his. 








I'll post the audio of his response when I've finished having heart palpitations :)

Suffice to say, this was an inspirational trip. I took a lot of pictures, which you will be aware of if you follow me on any of the other media sites. If you don't yet, here I am on Tumblr, which I believe is connected to everything else in the world.

But I am throwing myself, body, brain, and boobs, hard into revisions. There are some mighty changes I'm making this round (I'm merging a handful of characters to lower the head count), but mostly I'm focusing on looking at the book from a more critical, commercial standpoint. Which is weird for me, but important. After a mighty day of reading, rereading, chopping, polishing, rerereading, and scrapping about ten entire pages of material, and then elbowing a bit more to the side, and then reading it outloud for the tenth time, I've got some decent progress made and a healthy, loving desire to set a portion of the world on fire.

But it's a good thing. Writing is like rollerblading uphill. If you're not sweating, not actively moving forward, you're probably zipping back down the slope.

And that awkward metaphor suggests to me that it is time for me to go to sleep. Now that I'm back in town, I will continue to blogalog, and toss in an update on revision status if it doesn't strike me as too boring to report :)

Thanks for reading!

Amber June

I believe I have mentioned once or twice a truly resplendent woman I have the great fortune to be friends with. Her name is Amber June, she has three beautiful children, and is easily the most gracious person I have ever known. She is also an absolute artist with words (and with art) and if I ever have to grow up I hope to be at least a little bit like her.

I made this as a gift for her, for Christmas:

Because Amber June is an elegant badass who has a thing for butterflies.

Valentine for a Bearded Man

I composed this for my bearded man friend, for Valentine's Day. Then I took him (and Wifey) to a cemetery to lay out flowers. If you've ever wondered what it's like to be courted by an author...well, here you go.

Note: Formatting is weird. And hard. The version I printed out and crumpled in my bag before actually offering it had text and images working in tandem. I'm afraid you'll all have to settle for the text/image mashup below:

Valentine, I will build for you a Cabin in the Woods,

Where The Strangers cannot follow.

It will be The Shining respite that we need

Our own little Sleepy Hollow.

Don't be Afraid of the Dark, for I will be with you

Lying beneath the Silent Hill

Awaiting The Return of the lark.

Useful

Beginning around the time I was old enough to be critiqued on my appearance, I have been told that I have ugly hands. My fingers are short and stubby (making my strong desire to pick up the guitar or the piano or most instruments, really, a moot point). Most of my digits have experienced breaks and are therefore crooked. I often have cuts and bruises with less interesting stories than are usually worth telling, because I like using my hands for everything and usually don't stop long enough to think about protecting them.

One of the art classes I took in high school (I took damn near all of them) required that we keep a sketch diary. We didn't have to be skilled or creative, we just had to show that we were constantly drawing. Sort of similar to an author needing to keep an active blog, I guess *shame*

For one of my pages in this sketch diary, I drew my own hands. I wrote on the page, in passing, "These are my hands. They're ugly, but they're useful, so I like them."

My teacher, Master Tim, responded: "Useful = Beautiful"

This is my beautiful hand. It has some nicks, some cuts, some signs of past adventures, and a tattoo of a feather pen, because that is how I communicate best with the world. I've frequently said that every -one and -thing has a story worth telling; it is simply a matter of telling it correctly.

Last year was a year of change and progress. This year has, for its young life, been a year of progress and learning. I hope to have some proper adventures, and I hope you enjoy hearing about them :)