But I’m not here to sing praises of blond wood and gray metal. Or even how I have my Dalek here, and I can press the “Exterminate” button at whim. No, it’s for the early in the week install of Blood is Thicker than Water.

AND to say that it looks like Odyssey is out. I could get the six weeks off, and I might have stretched to save the money deficit myself. The trick, however, is all in the timing of Professional Development funds, and the college on the whole is kinda out for this fiscal year, which would wipe out all hope of financial assistance I might have had.

However, Viable Paradise is next fiscal year for the college, and fits the budge of professional development like a glove. Of course, getting in is a whole ‘nother pail of clams, and there’s no guarantee that the college will give me the cash. That said, it looks like those two pieces dovetail together quite nicely. So, now that I’ve done the budget, checked out all the peripherals, and asked for the professional development application, it’s time to start on the writing piece and the VP cover letter, not necessarily in that order.

***

Happiest of book days this week to Jim Hines and and Joshua Palmatier, whose journals I enjoy. In Jim’s case, I like his work, and in Josh’s case, I’ll be happy to try it. Keep on writing, gentlemen.

Night class tonight. Gotta close things down. See you tomorrow. If you’re lucky.

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The first thing I need to have done, and I want it done in two weeks, by January 17th, is to have a summation of where the novel is going. I need some idea of how Feldspar’s plans are unfolding, and I need to look at other character’s motivations. My God, this sounds suspiciously like…outlining!!!

After that, I will polish up the summary and submit it and part of the work for Odyssey and Viable Paradise, along with applications and materials. I thought about sending off Mark Twain’s Daughter, but honestly, since this is the novel I’ll be working on, this makes more sense.

By the end of January, my goal for G&V will be one chapter every two weeks, send to Team G&V (Yo, Jenn, Cat, and Yvonne). This process should start February 1st.

Beginning tomorrow, then, I’ll lay some pipe for this story, see how much verbiage that is, and figure out how much of the real McCoy I can send with the rest of the two workshop aps.

It’s good to have a plan. Little goals and personal deadlines keep me honest. How about you guys?

Cath

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I will apply to Odyssey AND Viable Paradise. I’ve talked to Bryon about both. As soon as school is up and running, I’ll chat with Allison about the possibility of six weeks off, if Odyssey should accept me, and professional development funding for either. I honestly think work will want me to swing toward Viable Paradise, but you never know, as no one’s offered me an extended contract just yet.

Thanks to all of you who have been kind enough to offer advice and answer my many questions about this process. I really appreciate it!

Key to applying to workshops is the Fulbright mentality. With that in mind, I’m still planning on Convergence as a summer antic. If I am accepted to either, we’ll adjust our plans.

***
As to the other recent authorly concern, the Wiscon reading group is also formed. My partners in crime will be Ellise Heiskell (avid costumer and beginning writer), Catherine Cheek (Clarion workshop alum, visual artist, and broadly talented person), and Gregory Frost (member of the University of Iowa community of the fantastic, scholar, itinerant gentleman, and author of some of the most mythic work I’ve read in recent years. ) And yours truly.

What I like about this group is that it pretty much represents Wiscon in microcosm. Wiscon has always struck me as a con which attracts people talented on multiple levels, with multiple interests. It also is the kind of place where a beginning writer like Ellise could read with a gifted and talented author like Gregory. The hierarchy is flattened. Long live the revolution!

***

I should do something creative today. It’s been more of a slug vacation than I would have liked, so I will finish the whole internet thing, and do some writing, and then…probably it’s a day of sewing. Work begins anew Monday. Maybe some structure will help.

Catherine

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What could I bring? Well, I can read part of Hulk Hercules: Professional Wrestler if I were part of a children’s group. With Sonya’s approval, I would expect.

Or, if I were part of a faerie or urban fantasy group, Gossamer and Veridian or Substance of Shadows (especially if an agent picked that up!).

If historical were a group formed, I’d have Mark Twain’s Daughter, or I’d maybe even read part of The Empty Horizon, which is my retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo from Mercedes’ and Haydee’s viewpoints.

I even have a couple of humorous things I could read. And some of this is arty and serious, so it would work for those kinds of sessions as well.

Other than that, I got nothin’.

Seriously, though, would anyone be interested in adopting an orphan who doesn’t eat much, and could be convinced to bring her share of personality? I’m a fairly good reader. Ask those who have read with me for credentials. Even though Mary Poppins says the best people no longer ask for them. *sniff*

Catherine

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There are about 3 I’ve found that interest me as a novelist. Here are the links.

CSSF SF Novel Writers Workshop: Two weeks writing in Laurence, KS during the summer.

Viable Paradise: One week in October on Martha’s Vineyard focusing on a variety of topics.

Odyssey: Six weeks in New Hampshire studying the craft, with a focus on novels available.

My personal restraints:

1. The college probably wants me around on and off during the summer.
2. There’s a two-week workshop on mythology that I’ve already committed to.
3. I would like to use my professional development to pay for it.
4. As well as working on my craft, I would like to learn more about the industry.

Frankly, Odyssey would be great, but I doubt that the college would be happy with me disappearing for six weeks and I have that work shop. It doesn’t seem to be the summer for it.

CSSF would give me two weeks of writing, but wouldn’t teach me the other pieces.

This year, I will apply for Viable Paradise, unless my circumstances suddenly change. Perhaps during a future year, I will apply for Odyssey.

At this point, then, I need to decide what 8000 words to send them. I’ll see what develops, as their deadline for application is June 30, 2009, and I believe two short stories would be my best bet. Mark Twain’s Daughter, perhaps, and something else.

Catherine

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When I open my hands, the cats cradle falls to the ground in a tangle. The memories jewel and streak my cheeks. And grandmother’s soul flies away on the December wind, indistinguishable from the dust of a county road.

Blessings to all of you in the New Year.

Catherine

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I’ll be spending January applying to those writing workshops I mentioned waaayyy back, and then the rest will be trying to work on the new novel to get it out.

I can’t set goals beyond my control, but my measure of time is both yours and mine. In 1998, twelve years after I started as a TA at ISU and discovered teaching was a great passion, I had my dream teaching job. Most of your experience suggests that it takes you about 10 years to get to where you felt comfortable in your author skins.

Only 8 years and 5 months to go! Woohoo!

Catherine

ps Yvonne, thank you for the feedback. That’s exactly what I needed.

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Very little tonight, but a little.

16,701 / 90,000 (18.6%)

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Reflection, regardless of the cause, is a golden opportunity. I have been thinking about the interpolation between my grandparents, my parents, and me, and what that means about the universe as I know it. I know that my love of fantasy comes from an early desire to escape a difficult place, and now, I’d like more from fantasy. I want to find a way as a writer to use fantasy in a mature way, to comment on the world. I don’t imagine that makes me unique at all.

It does have implications for my current piece. I never intended it to be soap opera solely, but now, I’m interested in the functions of family, friendship, and intercultural interactions more than I was.

Over in my other journal, I’ve asked for someone to read Gossamer and Veridian as I’m working on it. Many of my friends there have some enthusiasm for the work, as I started it years ago, and they know the characters. Right now I just need an audience that might just enjoy what I’m writing. Ideas are welcome, but I need to be inspired by someone looking forward to the next installment of it.

I also would like to extend that offer here to writers I know. If this doesn’t sound like a contract violation to you, something you have time for, and might be something you’re interested in, let me know by emailing me at awelkin AT gmail DOT com. I’d be happy to perform a similar service for you. Of course, if you’re interested in faerie stories, that’s a real bonus.

I should sign off. Coherence is not our strong point this evening.

Cath

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Mostly editing of the old material, which is finally finished. I thought you might enjoy a scene from the Desert Tales part of the story. Now, we earnestly start preparing new material and continuing these stories.

Desert Tales #4: Akhim and Rohren

Nasma squinted at the orange sun in the middle of the purple and blue sky. She could see the dancing scarf of her mother painting the sky. The sun disappeared below a dune, the air chilling. Nasma cocooned herself in her shawl. Soon the sky would color from lavender to purple to twilight gray, and soon Leila and Myrrh would join her, and they would ride the storm, covering the leavings of the day.

In the silence of the desert, she heard her name, a whisper at first, and then tumbling closer over the hills of sand. Myrrh raced toward her, the sand spraying behind her in a plumed fan.

“You must hide him!” she gasped breathlessly. “Father! He has come home!”

Nasma scurried toward her sister. “Where is he?”

“Father? At home! I told you!”

Nasma shook her head. “Rohren! Where is he?”

“He’s with Kassim! Father will kill him!”

Nasma glanced back at Jameelah and the painted sky. Mother will calm him!”

“There is no time for that!” Myrrh insisted. “Father will have beheaded him by the time you return! You must come now! When Father attacks, you must throw yourself on top of Rohren, and beg for his mercy, to protect the man you love!”

Nasma blushed and hoped Myrrh would think twilight reflected on her cheeks. “Leila is right about you,” her voice stumbled. “I don’t understand where you find these foolish ideas.”

“You are lying to your closest sister?” Myrrh mocked surprise.

“I’m not going to throw myself on top of Rohren because I love him!” said Nasma, hurrying up the slope. “I’m going to throw myself on top of Rohren because he is my responsibility.”

Myrrh’s laugh exploded out of her. “Like your puppy, then! As you will! As long as you keep Father from killing him. No men will seek us out if Father continues building this reputation.”

“Why didn’t you bring Leila?” Nasma gasped. “If Leila had come, we could have flown back.”

“Leila is currently distracting Father.”

Nasma no longer listened. The sand slipped beneath her feet as she raced forward. When they reached rock, she stumbled on uneven ground, but pushed herself up and on. Myrrh, breathing steadily behind her, followed Nasma into the courtyard, where the clanging sound of metal told her she was too late.

On the ground, Leila, Kassim, and Hussam stared upwards. In the graying light, Nasma could make out moving shadows in the balconies and parapets. Above the metal, she heard her father’s voice, booming.

Nasma gulped air into her lungs, trying to speak. “Stop him!”

“How dare you enter my home!” Akhim’s voice thundered. “You common dog!”

“Puppy,” said Myrrh, under her breath.

Nasma frowned at her sister. “Father!” she yelled. “Please stop!”

Wives, children, servants were flowing into the courtyard. Leila whispered in Nasma’s ear. “You should stay quiet. No doubt, you are in trouble enough.”

“How long do you think it will take Father to kill him?” Hussam asked Kassim.

“Usually, Rohren would be dead already. Luckily I gave him one of Father’s scimitars.”

“Traitor!” said Hussam.

Kassim shrugged. “Father will win, definitely. But there is no good fight without two swords.”

A figure landed in the middle of the courtyard. Azza, one of the kitchen servants, screamed. Rohren towered over her, his sword gleaming sharply in the torchlight, sandy hair streaming behind him in a wave of movement. He smiled grimly at Kassim, who smiled back.

A sword in each hand, yelling at the top of his lungs, Akhim leaped from a balcony and landed with a snarl, crouching in front of Rohren.
“Face me!” he yelled. “Face Akhim the Undefeated! Face the scourge of Khartoum, the terror of Cairo! Face me, foreign man, and meet your death!”

“Scourge of Khartoum?” Myrrh said. “My mother will laugh when she hears—”

“Father!” Nasma yelled, “please stop!” Her voice drowned in the noise of the spectacle.

Kassim’s face lit up. “I think it will be an epic battle!”

Akhim lunged. Rohren leaped backwards, barely blocking Akhim’s whirling blades. Left, right, right, left, Akhim pushed Rohren through the crowd, men ringing the edge of the courtyard, women scrambling for archways, scooping children out of their path. In the torchlight, the metal gleamed and danced. Nasma held her breath.

Rohren’s sword swept out in a wide arc, and Akhim leaped impossibly high, over the top of the blade, somersaulting over Rohren’s head, and landing lightly on his feet behind him.

“Face me!” Akhim yelled.

Rohren wheeled around. One of Akhim’s scimitars scratched his chest. Nasma held her breath.

Rohren’s hand brushed the hole in his shirt while his sword lashed out for Akhim. Akhim leaped back again. His arm grabbed a pole and Akhim launched himself at Rohren, who sidestepped him. Akhim laughed, hit the ground, hands first and landed on his feet, back toward Rohren.

Rohren weaved in.

“No!” Kassim yelled. “Don’t wait! Now, or he’ll—!”

Akhim’s sword flashed like a lightening fork. Rohren slid a hair’s breadth under the blade, past Rohren, between his legs.

Akhim grinned wickedly. “Very good, New Lander. You are a worthy opponent! I shall reward you, and make your death a swift one!”
The horizon glowed, and the sky lit up like it held three moons. Jameelah, silhouetted in the sky, drew all eyes.

Akhim’s pleasure shined in his eyes. “My wife,” he said loudly, “who is this man who defiles my house?”

“You defile my house!” said Jameelah. “Look at the spectacle you are making!” She clapped her hands like a thunderclap. “All of you! Back to your work! Back inside!”

“I will protect what is mine!” said Akhim, bouncing fingers off his chest. “How dare you let this man trifle with my daughters!”

Jameelah floated toward the ground, the glow disappearing into soft night. She hesitated just above Akhim, and she slapped his cheek. He grabbed her wrist, and the two of them stared at each other.

He laughed.

She smiled.

“He is my guest,” Jameelah said. “A traveler. He has done nothing to your daughters.”

Kassim’s mouth formed a small o, and words started to gurgle in his throat. Myrrh’s hand clapped over his mouth. No doubt, Nasma thought, he would tell the truth, once the shock of Jameelah’s lie wore off. Well, technically, it wasn’t all a lie. Rohren hadn’t trifled with any of them.

Akhim’s face contorted from surprise to anger, from anger to disbelief, from disbelief to goodwill, and from good will to amusement.

He kissed Jameelah’s hand. “I knew that,” he said gracefully.

“Obviously this,” his hand gestured expansively at Rohren, who had stood up and backed away, “is a man of action. You would have no idea of how to treat such a guest.”

Jameelah seemed satisfied with that answer. Akhim stepped toward Rohren, who jumped back. He laughed, and dropped the sword, and hugged Rohren like a bear. Rohren’s face was bewildered.

Nasma breathed a sigh of relief. The trick would have been getting Father to like Rohren before he killed him. Mother had managed it incredibly well.

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