Rosemary Kirstein

I just got here, and look what Ann Zeddies already did:

I like this picture. I should use it as my avatar!

Drawn on her iPad. Yes, she has an iPad.

I didn’t want one, until I held it. Now: tech lust!

[added later: if you don’t generally check the hovertext on the images I post here (and you should, you know!), you will have missed that “Chrysalis” is a short story by Gabriel Gill, the son of my pal and fellow author Geary Gravel]

I’m actually at the DayJob, posting from work because I have Monday off and I CANNOT WAIT!

Three-day weekend, Yay!

I shall spend it at the intermittently-celebrated Green Moth Society Debauch. Champagne is involved, as always. Plus many deep writerly conversations, fueled, in part, by champagne.

Collages might occur.

Yikes, here comes The Boss! —

Ciao.

Happily, all lawn improvements seem to have been accomplished. I hope Lawnmower Man and Wood-chipper Chum are enjoying a nice cold beer, and possibly viewing one or another of the various televised sporting events in which Manly Men such as they so delight. I’m sure there’s something on. (If they can bear the sound of the vuvuzelas.)

Just as peace descended, my glance happened to fall on our bird bath, which sits on a corner of our porch, and was at the moment bone-dry and filled with crusty scum. How sad, I thought, that our birdie pals will go without refreshment, since I am today focusing on creating prose and undertaking acts in support of the creation of prose.

But, I could at least put some water in it. That would take hardly any time at all from my immersion in creativity. Birds have a rather high tolerance for scum, really. And it’s going to get very hot later. Have a heart.

So, I was about to pour some water into it… when I got a good look at the crud.

Hm, says I. It seems to be moving….

Now, I am a friend of nature, and enjoy all sorts of critters most people go “eww!” at. But I feel I must draw the line at thousands of tiny worms in near-microscopic writhing clumps.

Seriously, it was like a miniature Syfy-channel movie. (And with about as much plot.)

Detatch, put on the grass. Hose down. Brush. Bleach. Brush hard . Hose down. Bleach. Brush. Hose… All the time, my skin crawling, and me muttering “ew, ew, ew,” under my breath.

An hour later: sparkly clean birdbath, lots of fresh water! And those little medusa-like clumps now just a bad memory.

Plus: I am freezing up a block of ice to put in the bath later, which is a nice thing to do on very hot days. Keeps the water cool for a while.

And now back to your regular scheduled programming.

Lawnmower Man has acquired a wood-chipper. And an assistant. Meaning, the devices operate not alternately, but simultaneously.

Wood-chipper Man doubles on weed-whacker.

a) attempt to create much prose, and undertake many actions in support of the creation of said prose
b) play some guitar
c) get to the gym

The porch remains my favorite place to write. Night, by preference, but the DayJob has skewed my normal cycle so that there is not as much night available to me as once there was…

Still, lovely sunny day today, not hot yet. The porch is still in shade.

With my sister away for the weekend, I thought this would be a good time to haul out her accordion and see if I could still play some music on it.

Verdict: I believe it would depend on your definition of the word “playing.” And possibly the word “music.”

Nevertheless, I do believe that Mona was glad to see me. And I’m of the opinion that if I could put in a little practice time, I could work up a passable version of, if not “Lady of Spain I Adore You,” at least “Delores Waltz”.

In a nice example of sheer synchronicity, Catherynne Valente wants to learn the accordion, and has acquired one.

This doesn’t actually surprise me… the accordion is a fantastical instrument, suitable for a fantastical author like Ms. Valente. It is weird, wonderful, half magic and half steampunk.

It is a musical instrument of mystery and romance, drenched in passion, and built on…

Built on…

Built on sheer geekery.

Seriously, folks. What did computer programmers do before there were computers to program?

They designed the accordion.

See that daunting array of buttons on the left?

Absolutely, completely, wonderfully logical. Each of those buttons is a solution. Collectively, they solve for the entire range of possible harmonic structure.

With an accordion, you can sound as if you have eight hands — or click a tab, and sound like a lonely clarinet, a lost calliope. Click again, and you’re an oom-pah band.

And the bellows? The accordion breathes. If you breathe, you’re alive, and if you’re alive, you have passion.

Weep, scream, whisper. Stamp your feet and shout for joy.

I can’t believe I missed this!

What was I, asleep?

In retrospect, I vaguely remember hearing about it, and vaguely remember thinking that for some reason I wouldn’t be able to go, and possibly dismissing it from my mind for that now-unrecoverable reason, and then never reconsidering…

But looking back on the actual week in question, it absolutely would have been possible for me to attend at least part of the festival. I could have moved some appointment, skipped work one day, cleaned the basement next weekend instead of this!

Well… damn!

My thanks to Chad Orzel and Kate Nepveu whose blogs reminded me of the festival, once I caught up on reading them.

It’s a yearly event, and I am absolutely there next year.

Meanwhile, there are videos.

What I did instead:

So, I thought to myself, “You know what would be neat? If I had a bunch of time off before Readercon, so that I could think about the panels and not be all rushed and frantic when I got to the convention.” So I requested the Paid Days Off from my boss and Human Resources, and there you go: a whole week off before Readercon.

And then I thought, “You know what else would be neat? If I had a couple of days off after Readercon, so I could just hang out with my pals, and talk shop, and life, and science fiction and stuff.” And I got those days off from work, too.

Then the pals in question decided not to come to Readercon…

And I thought, “Well, that’s okay, because what I could do with those days after Readercon, is maybe try to get some actual writing in…”

And that’s when the ton of bricks hit me.

If I skip Readercon entirely I will have (counting weekends) eleven contiguous days in which I can just immerse myself in actual WRITING. I can clear the decks entirely, and not have to worry about DayJob issues, and keep whatever hours I choose, and not have to try to write in 1-hour blocks, which never works well for me, and …

Well, there you are.

So I sent Readercon my regrets, and now I’m just counting the days to when I can FORGET ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE!

I YOU were planning on attending Readercon, and looking forward to seeing me there, I apologize. And remember: Readercon is one of the best of the smaller conventions, and time spent there is time well spent.

There is a very slim chance that (if things are going really, really, well with my writing), I might pop by for a day, as a paying attendee, not as a program participant. But only a chance. (Seriously, these panels sound so cool that I wish I didn’t have to miss them.)

So, that’s my plan.

Oh — Why the “reason one” in the title, above?

Because there might be a second reason… ask me again on Friday.