So, unplugged for a bit longer than usual this Christmas Season. I have to say it was a nice break, but I sorely missed some really great friends out in cyberspace and the writing. I wanted to be done with at least two different projects this quarter, but I have to say that I'm being realistic in saying that it is not going to happen. Life gets in the way of my having too much fun.
The MIL is in the hospital, She has been for about a week or so. Spinal surgery that has also turned into the installation of a pacemaker. Seems like everywhere I go, doctors are trying to do new things.
My dentist has informed me that I need 3 (THREE!) new crowns as there is some decay under the ones I've already gotten from him. That and I've got to undergo a deep cleaning to avoid an appointment with a Periodontist.
Honey and I had blood drawn. Yeah, four vials later and a few days and I get a call from the Doctor's Office.
"Um, yeah, your glucose level is a little high. You have diabeties."
"Wha...?"
"You need to come in within the next week around noon to talk to the doctor."
"I'm not sure I can commit to that."
The letter comes telling me that I have diabeties and that I need to go see the doctor about potential solutions.
Glee!
I quit smoking only to find out that I've now got a potentially debilitating disease based on my absolute love affair with food. God is an asshole and a cruel one at that.
So, I make the appointment with the doctor. At this point I'm $105.00 in the hole (2 visits to the PCP and one to the lab for bloodwork and urinalysis). I like the look of my doctor, don't get me wrong. He reminds me a bit of Uncle from Jackie Chan Adventures and Keye Luke (the old Chinese guy from Gremlins or Master Po from Kung Fu). He is short, Chinese and seems to be a good guy. But a week ago (literally, a week ago) he comes in rushing, he's late for a conference you see.
The doctor speedily enters as his nurse is trying to take my pulse with a digital doodad that slips onto my pointer finger. In the manner of an Asian game show host, he announces to me as the nurse has slipped to my other side to take my blood pressure.
"I'm sorry, I'm late for a conference." Doctor slides the laptop down that has my data and pauses. "You have diabeties!"
I felt as if I should have won a consolation prize for being in his presance for all of five minutes (and paying him $35.00 to boot)!
So, yeah... tobacco free, sugar free, care free?
Hurm... not so much.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Thursday, December 17, 2009
12 Weeks. 1 Goal. GETQUIT.
I visited the doctor today with my Honey. I want to quit smoking. The doctor asked me why I smoked. It boils down to stress and boredom. The doctor thinks that I can handle the boredom by, you know, doing something like excercising. He also said I need to lose about 50 pounds. Glee.
The perscription Chantix and 1 hour of excercise a day. Again, glee.
According to the site out at chantix.com the drug has reported that there may be some changes. Changes in behavior, hostility, agitation, depressed mood, and suicidal thoughts or actions while using. Glee.
Here's to the mind screw folks. See you on the other side.
The perscription Chantix and 1 hour of excercise a day. Again, glee.
According to the site out at chantix.com the drug has reported that there may be some changes. Changes in behavior, hostility, agitation, depressed mood, and suicidal thoughts or actions while using. Glee.
Here's to the mind screw folks. See you on the other side.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
NaNoWriMo 09
Prologue.
The Tao says that meditation is a total state of being. The Elders seem to think that ‘being’ is enough in these darkened times since the occupation started. The fact that we as a race exist at all is a testament to that fact. When the Aultnux came to our world with the promise of a shared freedom of ideas and technology as well as theological advancement and growth, many of the Elders forefathers thought and hoped for a brighter day for humanity.
They were wrong.
---
For more, please visit my NaNoWriMo 2009 site dedicated to this project.
Be sure to visit my public page on Facebook to get your own chance to NAME MY NOVEL!
Thursday, October 01, 2009
Awards and Titles
I should have posted this a week ago, but I've been rather busy on other things!
Therefore, as Landgrave of Charcuterie and the Court's Garde Manger, there are few things that you do need to know:
1. I am NOT a chef. I just like food. Although I have worked in the food-service industry.
2. Round IS a shape, and that is the shape I'm in.
3. Good food is ALMOST better than sex. Almost.
4. Meat IS food. If we weren't meant to eat it, why does it TASTE so damned good?
5. ALL food has a face. Get over it. Sometimes it has MY face.
Today, there was discussion of bacon at the day job. Mmm, bacon. And to that here's what I suggest you try:
Mashed Plantains with Bacon
Ingredients:
1 small onion, minced
1 tablespoon garlic, minced
6 to 8 slices bacon, minced
1/2 cup chicken stock
1 1/4 cups heavy cream
4 to 5 ripe plantains, roughly chopped
1 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon coarse ground black pepper
Directions:
Heat a Dutch oven over medium-high heat and add the onion, garlic and bacon.
Cook until the bacon is crisp, about 12 to 15 minutes.
Stir in the stock and 1 cup of the heavy cream.
Reduce the heat to medium-low and add the plantains.
Simmer the mixture until the plantains are tender, about 5 to 8 minutes.
Add the remaining 1/4 cup of heavy cream and the salt and pepper.
Mash together until well combined.
Transfer to a serving bowl and serve.
*Landgrave's Note: Add a little more stock if the mash is too dry.
Therefore, as Landgrave of Charcuterie and the Court's Garde Manger, there are few things that you do need to know:
1. I am NOT a chef. I just like food. Although I have worked in the food-service industry.
2. Round IS a shape, and that is the shape I'm in.
3. Good food is ALMOST better than sex. Almost.
4. Meat IS food. If we weren't meant to eat it, why does it TASTE so damned good?
5. ALL food has a face. Get over it. Sometimes it has MY face.
Today, there was discussion of bacon at the day job. Mmm, bacon. And to that here's what I suggest you try:
Mashed Plantains with Bacon
Ingredients:
1 small onion, minced
1 tablespoon garlic, minced
6 to 8 slices bacon, minced
1/2 cup chicken stock
1 1/4 cups heavy cream
4 to 5 ripe plantains, roughly chopped
1 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon coarse ground black pepper
Directions:
Heat a Dutch oven over medium-high heat and add the onion, garlic and bacon.
Cook until the bacon is crisp, about 12 to 15 minutes.
Stir in the stock and 1 cup of the heavy cream.
Reduce the heat to medium-low and add the plantains.
Simmer the mixture until the plantains are tender, about 5 to 8 minutes.
Add the remaining 1/4 cup of heavy cream and the salt and pepper.
Mash together until well combined.
Transfer to a serving bowl and serve.
*Landgrave's Note: Add a little more stock if the mash is too dry.
This gives me hope...
Ripped from Jim Butcher's website:
How'd Jim Get Published?
Taken straight from Jim's mouth:
The story of Harry going to print isn't a terribly complicated one. I wrote my first book when I was 19.
It was horrible. Really bad.
I wrote another. And one after that. And then I took three novels worth of experience, and rewrote the first one!
And they were still terrible.
I wrote my fourth novel (or fifth, depending on how you look at it), breaking away from standard fantasy to write this paranormy X-files like thing.
A real stinker. Big time. But evidently THAT was when I had started putting together enough craft skills to overcome the lack of inborn talent.
I wrote the first Dresden book for a writing class. I wrote the second one for the next semester, then started on the third one. I submitted the manuscript for the first Dresden to several agents and editors and got rejected and/or ignored pretty much unilaterally. The rejections varied from standard form letters to actual letters that were vaguely encouraging as they crushed my hopes and dreams, to one downright insulting rejection.
That took about two years.
Anyway, after that, I started trying to make it out to conventions to actually meet the editors and agents I was trying to get in the door with. I actually had to slink past literal Klingon Convention Security to get into one limited-acess meet-the-editors coffee thing, because their sign-up process for it was totally unfair, so I decided that it was morally acceptable to go around it. I did get to meet a few people that way, and while it didn't pay off at the time, it is paying off now, as I try to get more things written and more projects going.
Anyway, after some of that, I decided to take the advice of a friend -- go out and track down the specific people I wanted to do business with. I decided who it needed to be based on a fairly simple premise. Laurell Hamilton was writing material a lot like mine. Ricia Mainhardt had liked Laurell's stuff enough to represent her. Maybe she would like my material too.
So I applied to Ricia's agency and got rejected.
Not to be deterred, I found out which convention she was going to be at, and went there with a fistful of questions from the LKH mailing list, using them to strike up a conversation with Laurell and Ricia. Laurell was really nice to me for no darned reason at all and asked me along when everyone went out for lunch. I met some other writers, a couple of editors and another agent over lunch. By the end of the day, Ricia had offered to represent my work, and another agent (Jennifer Jackson, in fact) had asked to take a look at some of my other work.
I got to have this conversation with Jennifer Jackson (my current agent after parting ways with Ricia) that day at the convention: Hey, why are you interested now? You just rejected me like two months ago?
"Well yeah," says Jennifer. "But that was before I met you."
Ricia read the first Dresden manuscript, thought it fine enough to send out, and had it sold to Jennifer Heddle at Roc about six months later. Reportedly, the esteemed Ms. Heddle was wavering until she heard that I had three books already finished, and then she was a lot more interested.
Bottom line, you have to put in a lot of work to get your writing quality up and running. And you have to keep on writing the whole while. Then you have to learn the market, both on the business end of things and on the reader end, so that you can put together a good picture of who you should go after. Building contacts at conventions and so on doesn't hurt.
But finally, I think, you have to have the attitude of a successful writer. Rejection shouldn't discourage you. It's just a part of the day, like a thunderstorm or a car horn. It happens, it isn't personal, and if you get stopped cold at one door, you might be warmly welcomed at another. Be polite, friendly, and well informed. Do your homework. Read agent and editor guidelines. Figure out who is producing stuff like yours, and go after those people. Tell them that you targeted them specifically, and tell them why. That kind of forethought is professional behavior, and it will impress them.
Breaking into print is an arduous and discouraging process for darn near everyone who makes it in. Sure, there's always someone out there who writes a novel and has it go ballistic their first time out, but there are people who win the lottery too.
Here's the secret of how to get published: keep going.
There is an enormous weedout factor for wannabe writers. The good news is that you aren't competing with every published schmoe out there. You're only up against the rest of the wannabes, and it's like the old axiom about being chased by a grizzly bear. You don't have to run faster than the bear to get away. You just have to run faster than the guy next to you.
Keep trying when the guy next to you quits in disgust. Keep writing when the girl next to you sobs and throws her manuscripts into the fire. Keep conducting yourself like a professional, and you'll get someone to believe that you are one.
If you're lucky, maybe even yourself.
How'd Jim Get Published?
Taken straight from Jim's mouth:
The story of Harry going to print isn't a terribly complicated one. I wrote my first book when I was 19.
It was horrible. Really bad.
I wrote another. And one after that. And then I took three novels worth of experience, and rewrote the first one!
And they were still terrible.
I wrote my fourth novel (or fifth, depending on how you look at it), breaking away from standard fantasy to write this paranormy X-files like thing.
A real stinker. Big time. But evidently THAT was when I had started putting together enough craft skills to overcome the lack of inborn talent.
I wrote the first Dresden book for a writing class. I wrote the second one for the next semester, then started on the third one. I submitted the manuscript for the first Dresden to several agents and editors and got rejected and/or ignored pretty much unilaterally. The rejections varied from standard form letters to actual letters that were vaguely encouraging as they crushed my hopes and dreams, to one downright insulting rejection.
That took about two years.
Anyway, after that, I started trying to make it out to conventions to actually meet the editors and agents I was trying to get in the door with. I actually had to slink past literal Klingon Convention Security to get into one limited-acess meet-the-editors coffee thing, because their sign-up process for it was totally unfair, so I decided that it was morally acceptable to go around it. I did get to meet a few people that way, and while it didn't pay off at the time, it is paying off now, as I try to get more things written and more projects going.
Anyway, after some of that, I decided to take the advice of a friend -- go out and track down the specific people I wanted to do business with. I decided who it needed to be based on a fairly simple premise. Laurell Hamilton was writing material a lot like mine. Ricia Mainhardt had liked Laurell's stuff enough to represent her. Maybe she would like my material too.
So I applied to Ricia's agency and got rejected.
Not to be deterred, I found out which convention she was going to be at, and went there with a fistful of questions from the LKH mailing list, using them to strike up a conversation with Laurell and Ricia. Laurell was really nice to me for no darned reason at all and asked me along when everyone went out for lunch. I met some other writers, a couple of editors and another agent over lunch. By the end of the day, Ricia had offered to represent my work, and another agent (Jennifer Jackson, in fact) had asked to take a look at some of my other work.
I got to have this conversation with Jennifer Jackson (my current agent after parting ways with Ricia) that day at the convention: Hey, why are you interested now? You just rejected me like two months ago?
"Well yeah," says Jennifer. "But that was before I met you."
Ricia read the first Dresden manuscript, thought it fine enough to send out, and had it sold to Jennifer Heddle at Roc about six months later. Reportedly, the esteemed Ms. Heddle was wavering until she heard that I had three books already finished, and then she was a lot more interested.
Bottom line, you have to put in a lot of work to get your writing quality up and running. And you have to keep on writing the whole while. Then you have to learn the market, both on the business end of things and on the reader end, so that you can put together a good picture of who you should go after. Building contacts at conventions and so on doesn't hurt.
But finally, I think, you have to have the attitude of a successful writer. Rejection shouldn't discourage you. It's just a part of the day, like a thunderstorm or a car horn. It happens, it isn't personal, and if you get stopped cold at one door, you might be warmly welcomed at another. Be polite, friendly, and well informed. Do your homework. Read agent and editor guidelines. Figure out who is producing stuff like yours, and go after those people. Tell them that you targeted them specifically, and tell them why. That kind of forethought is professional behavior, and it will impress them.
Breaking into print is an arduous and discouraging process for darn near everyone who makes it in. Sure, there's always someone out there who writes a novel and has it go ballistic their first time out, but there are people who win the lottery too.
Here's the secret of how to get published: keep going.
There is an enormous weedout factor for wannabe writers. The good news is that you aren't competing with every published schmoe out there. You're only up against the rest of the wannabes, and it's like the old axiom about being chased by a grizzly bear. You don't have to run faster than the bear to get away. You just have to run faster than the guy next to you.
Keep trying when the guy next to you quits in disgust. Keep writing when the girl next to you sobs and throws her manuscripts into the fire. Keep conducting yourself like a professional, and you'll get someone to believe that you are one.
If you're lucky, maybe even yourself.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Before the Dawn
People often tell me, "It is always darkest before the dawn." I understand why people might tell me that. I understand their intent and good wishes. I understand why they are hopeful for me.
The fact of the matter is that this is truly not the case.
In my case, the darkness binds me. It swirls and twists inside of me until it is entangled within my soul. Even in the stark light of rightousness the darkness slithers inside, undulating underneath the smile plastered on my face that is necessary for me to continue onward and upward throughout this life.
“Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
Shakespeare had it right, you know.
I'm struggling to let that not be me. I fight against what feels like overpowering odds in order to be a good influence, to be a good man, to be a good provider. Lately I feel as if I have failed my family, my friends and mostly myself.
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
Frank Herbert had it right too, the trouble is that I'm not Paul Atreides and for all of my trying, my own little piece of Arrakis still remains a sizzling desert awash in brilliant sunlight that oozes darkness rippling just underneath the surface waiting to strike. These are not the Makers performing their function, instead it is the winding power of fear that I tread upon hoping not to break through the scant sandy surface.
I have much to think on and ponder. Hopefully I will grok it sooner rather than later.
The fact of the matter is that this is truly not the case.
In my case, the darkness binds me. It swirls and twists inside of me until it is entangled within my soul. Even in the stark light of rightousness the darkness slithers inside, undulating underneath the smile plastered on my face that is necessary for me to continue onward and upward throughout this life.
“Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
Shakespeare had it right, you know.
I'm struggling to let that not be me. I fight against what feels like overpowering odds in order to be a good influence, to be a good man, to be a good provider. Lately I feel as if I have failed my family, my friends and mostly myself.
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
Frank Herbert had it right too, the trouble is that I'm not Paul Atreides and for all of my trying, my own little piece of Arrakis still remains a sizzling desert awash in brilliant sunlight that oozes darkness rippling just underneath the surface waiting to strike. These are not the Makers performing their function, instead it is the winding power of fear that I tread upon hoping not to break through the scant sandy surface.
I have much to think on and ponder. Hopefully I will grok it sooner rather than later.
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