So Ready to be Movin' On

Below: A Storm Brewin' in Mongolia. Yeah. I was there.

Really. I start in my new position on December 3rd, and I graduate on December 14th. But I am ready now. Now, I say. I don't want to spend all next week driving 2-1/2 hours a day to my dwindling-commissioned current job. I don't want to write about "how well the introduction to the essay drew me in." How is that for a Thanksgiving attitude? A little disappointing, I am sure. I had an exciting story idea the other night and I am anxious to get it written. I made a list of the books I've read or listened to lately that I have stuff to say about here and haven't yet done so. I am having the hardest time getting down to business with this final stretch of school and sales. That is just where I am at right at this exact moment in time.

Movin' On

This morning I spent a few hours alternately doing homework, reading to the boys, and daydreaming about a job that I recently interviewed for. When the time came, I slipped into a Clean Greenie (those of you who have seen me in my corporate attire know of what I speak) and thought to myself, “Self, wouldn’t it be nice if the day of the Clean Greenie were coming to an end like the day of the Elves at the end of the Third Age.” Well, I received the call today, and the position that I sought is now mine. No more commuting – I will be able to walk to work. I estimate that by the time I graduate the Clean Greenie will no longer figure into my wardrobe, except maybe right before wash day. I will turn the extra fifteen to twenty hours a week to cool things like:

• Chilling with my family
• Passing my classes so I can graduate
• Reading paper books
• Picking up the guitar again
• Getting back to writing
• Blogging about most of the above

I am so excited I can hardly see straight. I can’t wait to Write On.

R.

Through the Hoops

Today I visited my department heads, the social-science college advisor, the cashier's office, and the graduation office one day ahead of deadline. I am now officially cleared (pending passing marks in my current classes) to graduate this December with my double major of History and English. It was a thrilling thing to see all of those approvals go through. All I have to do now is not screw up in my classes.

R.

I Want to Suck . . .

Technically the next part should be "your blood," but after my experience listening to Bram Stoker's Dracula I think I will leave it as is. I actually did not listen to the last disc. I'm pretty sure that they killed him though. He was vicious and I think he probably deserved it. Anyways, I am glad I read (listened to) it, because I recognize its place with Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and Arthur Conan Doyle's Hound of the Baskervilles as the foundation stones of the modern horror/suspense novel, but all I can say is I can't believe it is the one with the most spin-offs. I know it seems like I complain about authors a lot these days, but I am just an aspiring writer looking for others to emulate, and sometimes I get a little caught up in my analysis. If you look through my archives you will see that there have been authors who have really inspired me. Anyways, my list of grievances:

1) The journals. It is all written in the form of narrative journals - which I initially thought was cool, but as it became less and less believable it made me tired.

2) Believability. I'm not sure why I am so bent on having believable fiction, but I am. And the journal narratives were not.

3) The dialogue. Recorded supposedly word for word in the journals, this flowery overdone mess of dramatic speech is completely beyond my sense of reason. I have read a lot of writing from authors of the Romantic and Victorian periods, and have never had to endure in prose what Stoker was trying to make the reader believe these characters were supposedly saying in speech. Ugh.

There was a moment in the story that really moved me toward the beginning when a mother follows Dracula back to the castle and demands that he return her child. Jonathon had already heard the fate of the little one and admired the bravery of the woman even as Dracula called in a pack of wolves to remover her from the courtyard. No graphic descriptions were given, but none were necessary. It was a powerful scene. Perhaps it raised my expectations for the book too high.

I would like to take a moment and welcome some new readers who have apparently followed the links here from Daeruin and Ing's blogs - Welcome. I hope that you find my blog enjoyable and thought provoking. If not, then I will settle for better than a kick in the pants. Thanks for reading and commenting, or even just reading for those who have not felt inclined to comment.

One more item. As I have hitherto posted, I spend close to fifteen hours a week commuting. This adds up to a lot of audio books. More than I have been able to keep up with here, and I apologize because I really have had something to say about all of them that you will probably never get to read. So I am going to list the ones I have read and not posted about and if anyone wants my take on them they can say so in the comments and I will try to get something posted.

For Whom the Bell Tolls - Ernest Hemingway
Starship Troopers - Robert Heinlein (although I have already thrown my two cents in on the discussion taking place on Ride On regarding that book)
Slaughterhouse 5 - Kurt Vonnegut
Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card
Ender's Shadow - Card

I think I have posted regarding all the rest. Let me know, and Write On.

R.

Favorite Sword Slinger Poll

To the right I have put up a little poll. There were supposed to be more than five options. At least it kept letting me add them on. But there are five showing. I don't know what happened. I probably did something wrong. Or google is still working the bugs out. Either way, if you are so inclined to take the poll, please comment here and tell us why you chose the warrior that you did. If your preferred person is not there, vote for a runner up and say in your comment who you would have voted for if they had been there (which they might have been, before I gave the go ahead on publishing the poll). You can choose from books or movies. I'm easy like that. Vote on.

R.

More Ponderings on WoT

I am still plowing away at Fires of Heaven during my commute. I am still having mixed feelings about it. As I have considered and refined my complaints about Jordan's style and WoT in general, I have finally latched on to my major peeve against both - Jordan is willing to sacrifice the integrity (insert believability or realism or whatever term you use for when a fictional character does something that rings false and lame for some purpose of the author) in order to make repeated and repetitive man/woman jokes. Characters that should be extremely compelling drop into the droning voice of a old joke, one that Jordan never ever seems to grow weary of. I'd offer to cite examples, but if you can't open a WoT book and see what I mean in five pages or less I'll give you a nickel. You'd have to come get it from me though, because I'm just not going to buy a stamp to send you a nickel. Assuming you can even find a five page stretch in 15,000 that he probably has written for this. That is issue one.

Issue two is this - too many chiefs and not enough Indians. In the world of WoT, everyone who grows older seems to keep amassing knowledge and power whether queens or chambermaids. I recognize that this is a fantasy story, but fantasy or not most people don't shed their sheepness no matter how old they get. Their situations get more pitiful as they are shoved or dragged by the people that are really like every other character in WoT. People don't bow to cranky older people, generally. I'd say Martin does a far better job of showing what happens when more than one person thinks they are in charge, and it isn't ganging up on youngsters. I consider it another attack on the back bone of good fiction - characterization.

R.

Posing a Question

In years past I read many of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time books, before boycotting them until he should die or finish the series, whichever comes first. Due to the limited audio books on CD available to me, I have rescinded my vow and am currently listening to Fires of Heaven (the fifth book in the series, disregarding the prequels). I find that I have a thousand-thousand gripes about these books. I recognize that as one who has never published more than a 2nd place story online I don't have much right to criticize a best selling series like WoT, but I am going to. Or maybe I won't. I know that there are many among the five or six people who read my blog that are fans of this series. Can you tell me why? What is it about WoT that makes it worth sifting through a hundred flat supporting characters, repetitive obnoxious hypocritical arguments (think Nyneave and Egwene in the dream world when they are snooping about the Tower), and a main cast made up of stereo types and extreme anti-stereo types? I find myself anxious to listen in spite of being frustrated by the character issues. That is the bulk of my complaint - certainly I can't fault his back story, his linguistics, his plotting (even if it is a bit loose for my taste), or the world of WoT. When I consider his characters next to those from Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn or Song of Ice and Fire, they seem to me to be pathetic punchlines in a too long joke. So, hopefully without being too critical of my criticism, what do you like about WoT?

R.

Back to Back Austen

I really thought that after enjoying Persuasion so much that Pride and Prejudice might not do that much for me. After all, I loved the movie, and I still liked Persuasion better. I found, however, that the book was more enjoyable than the movie or Persuasion. The characters are so enjoyable, and I love Austen's sense of prose. I took it as a good sign for the movie that I pictured the cast all through listening to the book in spite of a few changes that were made, notably Mr. Collins. My favorite line from the book did not make it into the movie, though in my mind I could see Donald Sutherland saying it:

"I enjoy all my three sons-in-law. Mr. Wicham is my favorite, but I shall enjoy your husband every bit as much as Jane's." Spoken to Elizabeth by Mr. Bennett, and badly paraphrased by Riotimus. That's the way it goes sometimes.

There have been many a book and doctorate published interpreting and analysing P & P, and I encourage all interested parties to check them out, but I think it sufficeth me to say that I loved it and would recommend it to anyone. Write on.

R.

Teamwork - It's More than just a Word

Those of you who know me understand me already for the goose-stepping company man who makes his daily commute with a smile on his face. In spite of that quality of mine, I sometimes find myself thinking of the large framed poster above the stair landing at work. It has an inspiring little message about teamwork under a picture of a section of the Great Wall of China, a man-made landmark that can be seen from outer space by the naked eye - built and improved for thousands of years by slave labor. Does anyone but me sense some incongruity here? I understand that the poster is supposed to catch up the viewer in the majesty of the image and cause him to think, "Wow! If we work together we could turn [this company] (or whatever) into an monument of unimagined proportions." Well, lets bust out the cat-o-nine tails and see who doesn't want to be a part of the team. Who in sieg hail would pay money for that, much less hang it for their, um, workers(?) to see? I've gone on about it as if it really upsets me, but it doesn't. The people who see that poster everyday probably don't know enough about history to know that they are being jacked with, so everyone is happy, motivated, and enjoying the cool picture of the Great Wall hanging above the landing. As for me, I've finished another semester - still waiting back on the results of that - and I've finished some more audio-books on my commute. I will be posting my thoughts on them soon. As far behind as I am on my posts, I may just do one post that addresses all of them, but I might not. They all certainly deserve their own post. So look for that soon, and write on.

R.

Persuasion

I’ve just finished Jane Austen’s Persuasion, a book of pining love and 19th century England at its social best. I thought I would post a few thoughts as well as a summary (I will designate the spoilers in case one of my readers wants to read the book without knowing how it turns out).

The Elliot family holds a baronage in a place called Kellidge. Let me remind you that I listened on audio-book during my commute, so I could be quite off in my spelling. The Baron is Sir Walter Elliot, and he has three daughters – Elizabeth, the eldest and most beautiful, Anne, who was persuaded not to marry Mr. Wentworth some eight years ago because he was a poor man of low station, and Mary, who married Edward Musgrave and is constantly sure that she is being ill-used by someone or other. All but Anne have a bloated sense of importance which generally is the complicating issue of most of the important scenes of the book. In the present, foolish Sir Elliot has indebted himself to the point where he must move to Bath and let Kellidge Hall to Admiral Crutch (or something like that). The wife of Admiral Crutch happens to be the sister of the Mr. Wentworth, now the wealthy and esteemed Captain Wentworth having proved himself and made a small fortune in the Napoleonic Wars. Sir Elliot and Elizabeth left for Bath, but Anne went to Upper Cross (or something like that) to take care of Mary, who proposes that she is quite ill. That is the essential set up of the story. Captain Wentworth does show up, and Anne is forced to watch him court Edward’s sister. Skip the spoiler if you don’t want to know how it turned out.

SPOILER

Obviously in the end, Anne and Captain Wentworth are reconciled and married in the end. I say obviously having finished it, but at the time I felt she could easily end up with two or three other suitors.

END OF SPOILER

The story caused some reflection on my part, especially on the matter of self portrayal and self view. Through the early parts of the book, Anne is described by Austen as a “woman seven-and-twenty who has lost her bloom.” This seems to be the way Anne feels, and the way that her vain father and sisters feel about her. Anne overhears Captain Wentworth tell another that at their re-introduction that “her countenance had changed so that he hardly recognized her.” Of course she assumes that he is referring to her loss of “bloom.” At some point in the story, however, Austen starts letting the reader (listener in my case) know some other points of view regarding Anne’s appearance. The unknown man (who turns out to be cousin William Elliot) who admires Anne in Lyme seems to also arouse Wentworth’s notice of her. Later, Austen shares a conversation between some women who wonder what all the talk is about how pretty Elizabeth is when Anne is the true beauty of the family. Indeed, the moments when Anne is not thinking about her lost bloom are the moments that people are noticing her beauty. It made me think of appearance as a reflection of inner self – not that how a person feels could change how they appear, but perhaps it could exude an attractive energy, the kind that radiates outward instead of sucking in. Like when you meet someone that you had seen in an attractive photograph, but even though they looked the same they lost their appeal in person. If any of you have read the book and have more insight or disagree with my take, I welcome your comments. I thoroughly enjoyed the book, and I would recommend it to anyone.

R.

The Curse of the Itchy Finger - A Jack Jackson Story

Note: This is a story I wrote last spring that I just got around to revising. I hope you find it interesting, if nothing else. R.


On a cold September afternoon, Jack Jackson rumbled into town in his ’68 Dodge Dart. The wind blew cold off the mountain slopes to the south. Jack Jackson pumped fifteen dollars worth of fuel into the Dart and headed to Bill’s Market.

On the west side of the grocery store a row of parking spaces nestled in between the Old Highway overpass and the wall of the building. After Jack Jackson finished his business in town he headed there to meet some friends.

Rob Roberts was already there with his big black Chevy truck. Mark Chestnut blared from the truck stereo and a crowd assembled around the vehicles.

Jack Jackson backed the Dart back against the railroad-tie barrier one space away from Rob Robert’s truck. A dimpled girl with a lot of make-up made her way through the crowd to Jack Jackson as he climbed out of his car.

“Hi,” she said as she leaned against the scuffed and abused paint of the fender.

“Hi Rosa,” said Jack Jackson while Rob Roberts watched them intently. “What’s everyone doin’ tonight?”

“Rob Roberts wants to go up to Arrow Hill and build a bonfire.”

Jack Jackson shrugged and walked over to Rob Robert’s truck. Rosa walked very close to him.

“It’s about time you got here,” said Rob Roberts.

“I had stuff to do,” said Jack Jackson.

“Did you get the pallets?” asked Rob Roberts.

“I’m not haulin’ pallets in my Dart. Take your stupid Chevy out and get pallets yourself.”

“The paint’s still fresh. I’m not scratchin’ up my bed with pallets.”

“You’ve been saying that since senior year,” answered Jack Jackson.

“You guys are so funny,” said Rosa.

Jack Jackson and Rob Roberts both blushed and stammered barely coherent replies.

“We’ll need wood for tonight,” said Rob Roberts.

“Not if we cruise Kennedy Avenue. I want to do some racing.”

“Racing is so immature,” said Rob Roberts.

Rosa had an arm draped through both Jack Jackson and Rob Robert’s arms.

“Is your car fast?” she asked Jack Jackson.

“It has a 318 bored and blown,” Jack Jackson said reverently.

“Your mind is blown,” said Rob Roberts. “There’s not a blower on that thing.”

“There will be soon. I aim to get one.”

“You’ll have better luck kicking yourself in the butt than you will finding a blower for a 318.”

“They make them. And I’m going to get one,” said Jack Jackson.

“That’s lame. Why don’t you leave your blowing car here and ride with me up to Arrow Hill?” asked Rob Roberts.

“Last time I left my car here all night I had to have a new windshield sent clear from Illinois. It cost me a fortune.”

“You wouldn’t have that problem if you would just get a truck.”

“I like my Dart,” said Jack Jackson.

“I like your Dart too,” said Rosa. “I’ve never been racing before.”

“I guess that seals it then,” said Jack Jackson.

Rosa ran and climbed into the passenger seat. “Are you going to come?” Jack Jackson asked.

“No, I’m going to build a fire. And you will wish you were there.”

“I doubt that,” said Jack Jackson, looking back to see Rosa playing with his car stereo.

“You will.”

“Why would I?” demanded Jack Jackson.

“Because if you don’t come with me, I’ll curse you.”

“Curse me?”

“Yeah . . . I’ll give you the Curse of the Itchy Finger,” said Rob Roberts.

“That’s stupid,” said Jack Jackson.

“You’ll see.”

For a while Jack Jackson and Rosa cruised Kennedy Avenue. Of the dozen or more races he put the Dart through, Jack Jackson won against all but two – a black ’77 Ford short-wheel-base pick-up that was cammed so that it could hardly idle, and a Chevy Luv running NOS. Around eleven o’clock a cop started to tail him and Jack Jackson decided to ditch the strip.

A tall bluff ran from east to west on the north side of town. They drove up to a dead-end street where they could overlook the lights. Jack Jackson made his move and kissed Rosa. She kissed back and Jack Jackson reveled in the smell of her hair and her perfume and her synthetic-whale-fat based make up.

Just as they started to get a rhythm going Jack Jackson’s left pinky began to burn. Soon it went from burning to itching and Jack Jackson started rubbing it on his pant leg, hoping Rosa wouldn’t notice. It didn’t help, so Jack Jackson slipped his arm off her shoulders and slid it between them so that he could claw the offending digit.

“What are you doing?” Rosa demanded impatiently.

“It’s my finger. Rob Roberts cursed me,” Jack Jackson answered.

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s jealous that you are out with me tonight, so he gave me the Curse of the Itchy Finger,” said Jack Jackson.

For several minutes Rosa sat in the passenger seat of the Dart, her dark hair splayed out against the fogged-up window. “I want you to take me home.”

“Fine,” said Jack Jackson as he fired up the old Dodge.

The 318 roared as Jack Jackson raced to get Rosa to her house twenty miles outside of town. It seemed like a long time to both of them, but according to the stereo clock it took less than thirteen minutes. Jack Jackson pulled into her driveway, and she jumped out of the car before it stopped moving to sprint to her door. She flew through and shut it swiftly behind her.

Jack Jackson left and drove as close to Arrow Hill as the Dart would get him, and hitched a ride the rest of the way up. Rob Roberts had just ripped a tree out of the ground with his truck, and he and a bunch of others were standing around beating their chests and celebrating both his coolness and his Chevy’s prowess.

Jack Jackson walked right up to him, and Rob Roberts laughed when he saw him coming. “It was the Curse. Wasn’t it?” Rob Roberts roared, tears coming to his eyes.

Jack Jackson whipped the sword of his hand out at Rob Roberts’ throat. Rob Roberts grasped his neck while his breathe wheezed in and out. “I bet you don’t have any smart-allicked thing to say to me now that I’ve crushed your laranix.”

Larynx, thought Rob Roberts, Larynx, as he sank down onto the tree trunk.

Hornblower's No Master

I finished Admiral Hornblower in the West Indies earlier this week. I enjoyed it thoroughly. It is placed in the post-Napoleonic Wars British navy, obviously in the West Indies. The images are fantastic, and Hornblower makes a fairly real character, in spite of his silly name. I appreciated that he dislikes his name and was excited to meet Mr. Roundbottom, possibly the only person to have a worse name than himself. I am not sure whether the audio-book was abridged or not, but as it was it seemed like a collection of short stories - Hornblower stopping a coup to release Napoleon from St. Helena, Hornblower trying to capture a slave ship (the British Empire outlawed slavery shortly after American independence and seized any ships on the open seas that were transporting slaves), Hornblower captured by grounded and desperate pirates, and Hornblower, his stint as Admiral and Commander in Chief of His Majesties Navy in the West Indies over, is caught in a hurricane while trying to get home. The stories were good, well worked, and filled with adventure. I find that I still enjoyed what I have read of the Master and Commander books more than these, but I still recommend this to anyone interested in in sailing ships, the British Navy, the West Indies, or Victorian social etiquette.

I am currently listening to Jane Austen's Persuasion, and I will be posting my thoughts on that when I am done. Write on.

R

A Little Wuthering

As previously mentioned, I am now commuting and listening to audio-books as I go. I just finished Wuthering Heights last Friday and thought I would throw a few thoughts out here.

The book is the story of Kathryn and Heathcliffe, two young friends that fall in love but are constantly apart. Kathryn marries someone else, Heathcliffe runs off and returns eventually with a mysterious fortune, and the two of them set about making everyone around them miserable. I suppose the story is less about them and more about how Heathcliffe, filled with hate, manages to ruin (at least temporarily) the lives of everyone he feels has wronged him and their children, and their property, and their servants. It has a fairly happy ending - I'm not sure if it is worth the countless pages of mean-spirited bickering that fills out the tale, but it is not the complete tragedy I was expecting.

In terms of why Wuthering Heights is considered a 'classic,' I think it must be the time of its creation. At that time, the novel was a fairly new artistic format. Also, many of the novels that we know as full books were released chapter by chapter in periodicals, only to be bound together at a later date. In terms of its description of life in northern England at the turn of the 19th century, I found it both enlightening and in harmony with what I know about the era as a historian. I found the language of the book delightful, and enjoyed some of the more poignant moments of the story. If the story has a redeeming, or classic, quality, it is that young Mrs. Linton (the daughter of the older Kathryn and her husband) refuses to accept unhappiness. Toward the end of the book, Heathcliffe has managed to strip away her family, her husband (who is Heathcliffe's son, and equally despised by him), her property (I shuddered at all of the book burning), and any sense of freedom she once possessed. Though she temporarily adopts the household of Wuthering Height's cruel and hateful temperament, she finds a way to make happiness there where there was none before. Her efforts are aided by the mysterious (but somewhat lame) death of Heathciffe at what amounted to be the most convenient time for her (and the object of her happiness, which you will have to find for yourself if wading through hours of meanness doesn't turn you off to happy endings). So, I am glad that I read (listened to) it. I won't be re-reading it.

My next audio-book is Hornblower goes to the West Indies, a Horacio Hornblower book. Think of the Master and Commander books but probably a lot cheesier. I'll soon know for sure.

I recently had a fan of my Tales from the Laughing Grass stories request new material. It was somewhat disappointing to not have anything to offer up. I just keep telling myself, "Self, seven more months and you'll be a free man." Write on.

R.

My New Hobby

That's right - commuting. Fifty miles exactly from my driveway to the parking lot of my new workplace. One hour in the morning, and one-and-a-half to three hours on the way home. Happily, my car seems to be getting close or over forty mpg with this type of driving, as long as I don't run the air conditioner. I went to the library to see what audio books they had on CD, and found that they only had about six, at least three of which are intolerably lame. I checked out Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte and that should keep my mind off the time I'm spending for a couple of days at least.

In school news, I am working on my senior research project for my History degree. It is as hard as one might expect to be a medievalist and try to find an event with enough primary sources (accessible in the part of the world I live in, at least) to fill a thirty page paper. I have therefore decided to do an historiography on the perception of the Norman Invasion by 20th century historians before and after WWII. I'm sure you'll all find it fascinating when it's done. Anyways, stay cool, and Write on.

R.

A New Novel Idea this Weekend

My ideas tend to fall into narrow categories - 1) Derthal stories long and short 2) Historical fiction stories long and short 3) the occasional current setting short story (like the one that was completely snubbed by Metaphor.

For some reason, this weekend I had an idea for a novel length suspense/mystery novel about a cowboy that, because of changes in the economy, finds himself becoming a dude wrangler running pack trips in the San Juan Mountains. He takes a nice yuppie family up into the high country and gets caught up an a plot of spousal murder. Not the most original plot, to be sure, but setting has got to count for something.

Anyways, I just thought I would let y'all know that now that classes are out I am thinking of new stories.

R.

Kurt Vonegut Fiction Prize Results

I bet you are all tired of finding out that I got rejected by someone else, but I did. So there. "A Day in the Sun" wasn't what they were after. Ah, well. I think it is safe to say that that is some reader's favorite of my work, so I don't take it personally.

Things have been crazy what with the end of my heaviest semester yet and a busy Spring in general. I have thought little about my fiction, and wrote even less. I hope that will change as I have on six hours worth of classes for the summer and three for fall. That is just a possible option based on how the employment situation turns out this summer after they close the doors of my current place of labor.

I am tentatively planning on entering WotF this quarter, but that will only happen if I have time to do a serious re-write of "Resurrection," which also hinges on how the next weeks/months go. So that's my writing report for now.

R.

"The Traveler's Gift" gets First Rejection

The Honors people sent me a form e-mail to let me know that my submission did not place in their little contest. I keep a file for each of my stories - in it I keep drafts, notes or e-mail conversations regarding the story, any awards or rejections the story earns. So now I have something for TTG's file.

The thing I try to remember in the face of getting shot down mercilessly is that when you send out stories, you get rejections, but if you don't send out stories, you never get prize money or publication. So I will keep submitting - because that is part of what it means to be a writer. Write on.

R.

WotF Results for Oct-Dec 2006 Quarter

"Suffer the Child", which is actually the stories "The Wasted Portion", "To Turn on One's Own", and "A New Guardian" failed to pull it off with the WotF folks. Despite the heavy editing that I did to it, E and I discovered (after we had sent off the submission) that it was full of typos. Blast. Then there was the part where I took three (semi) stand-alone stories, stuck them under one title, and tried to pass them off as a single story. (There was continuity in the stories with the Lishmen factor and, of course, the child, so I wasn't just being a donkey about it, in case the thought crossed your mind). So it wasn't a big surprise, the way the NULC rejection was.

I missed the deadline for the Jan-Mar 2007 quarter, somewhat deliberately, though I don't know when I would have revised anything with my schedule right now anyways. I am considering doing a revision of "Resurrection" for the next go round. Or maybe I will try to blend the Tales that involve Jeris a little better than six short stories with one title and send that. I don't know. I won't do anything but ponder it until I get through this semester. Write on.

R.

How Things Shake Down

I took a moment the other day to look through the reader list for the NULC. It was a rather surprising venture - my university was practically shut out. Talk about irony. It did make me feel better not to see a few specific names on that list. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I am glad that some of my peers didn't make the cut, but more that knowing the quality of their work I feel that the accepted submissions must have been incredible, and that makes me feel better about not getting in. So even though I know that they don't read this blog, here's to Jeff Z., Adrian S., Ammon N., and Camden - Write on.

In other news, Elyena called me at work the other day and said, "You got an envelope from the English Dept. It's thick, so it must be good news. Can I open it?" I said yes and she did. And it was good news. "A Day in the Sun" won an Honourable Mention in the Department Writing Contest. That's $15 bucks for our entertainment whims. It was a nice confirmation that I am not totally off track with my Tales. Last year the winners were amongst the aforementioned writers and I am sure the stories were just as good this year. So good news all over the place. Write on.

R.

You Never Can Tell What You Might Find

You all know I have an emphatic love for '63 and '64 Ford Galaxies, and since I can't find/afford a real one yet I settle for toys. On a recent road trip along I-80 we stopped at a Flying J in Wyoming. They happened to have a toy section, and I happened to flip through the cars. What a find - a '64 (which has been the more difficult to find, and my favorite of the two) in Candy Apple Red. It is made by Pro Rodz, the Stylers series. A fine specimen to hang in the office. Write on.

R.