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The buzz is loud. Giant killer bee from the 50s loud.

So, here’s the thing. I’ve heard On the Edge might be better than the Kate Daniels series. I remain skeptical, and would like to say different, not better, but you know, the only way you’re going to find out is to go out there and buy this book.

Or you could visit Bitten by Books, have a chance to win a Sony eReader, and have a blast.

They’ll let you choose the color of your Sony eReader. If you win. How groovy is that?

Be there, or as Pratchett would say, be a rectangular thing.

Catherine

Just call me McSpamerston…

CAT scan reveals…nothing. Everything looks great. The going theory now is that when Craig had chest pain (left over from CPR and the Frankenstein treatment) he took a nitroglycerine pill (a wise precaution).

Since nothing was wrong, it caused him to pass out. They kept him overnight for observation and are supposed to turn him loose sometime today.

Thank you for all your well wishes. We’re all okay with it being minor. I think Craig’s just about had enough of all this.

Catherine

This topic comes about because of something I did as a professor today. I teach Elements of Writing students (students who need a little warm up before their first composition course) from a book called America Now, a textbook which visits periodicals every two years and plans units around contemporary issues vis a vis campus newspapers, editorial pages, websites and so on.

Since the book is revised every two years, the book remains happily current. We just finished a unit on the obesity epidemic and now we’re starting on one about social networking.

All my students were aware of, and the majority were on Facebook. I had one of the students demo their Facebook page to a couple of students not in the know, and then I proceeded to talk to them about other networking outlets.

Maybe it’s because we’re in Iowa (you know, one of the backwards states that legalized gay marriage), but my students for the most part are not on Twitter, are not bloggers, and don’t use message boards. In my class, Facebook is king.

Of course, that makes me once again consider what I’m doing to publicize myself as an author.

Continue reading “Electronic Publicity and Writers”

As in many cultures, India views going into the woods as a transformative experience for the heroic. The Pandavas, instead of having to serve as slaves, are given an alternative loss by the Kauravas, because of the intervention of Krsna. The Padavas go into the woods for twelve years, and then spend a thirteenth year in disguise. We’ll deal with that 13th year in the next entry.

In this section of the saga, the Pandavas experience individual stories of revelation and daring do. Arjuna meets his father and is blessed by him. Yudhisthira learns how to never lose at dice. Bhima has a son with a rakshasa. There is much philosophizing about revenge, with Yudhisthira always taking a more balanced view of karma and how the world works.

At the end of the 12 years, the 5 Pandavas and Draupadi are leaner and meaner, and ready to go off to work in the kingdom of Virata. In disguise.

Not the whole scene, but a good bit for Hild.

***

Sheriff Bill Tucker moved the group into the staff room. Three trolls, although to his eye they looked like basketball playing adolescents; two godmothers, the tough one and the silent but elegant one; and Al Huesinveld, who couldn’t see faeries yet, but swore his mother could.

Bill closed the door. It was a little crowded. Al perched on the chair by the wall, tipping back on two metal legs. The godmother in the hat thinned her lips, and he put the chair square on the floor.

“Tell me again,” said Bill. “How did you kids find out about Susan Engle?”

“The nisse on the farm told me,” said Grant. He was the oldest Heierdahl. Having a conversation with him seemed like having a conversation with Petar, which he did from time to time in the office. His attention wandered a bit, but Bill could see that, given what had happened to the kids.

“How did they find out?”

Hjalmar’s daughter said, “There are little people all over this town. Word gets out.”

Little people. Bill tried to flatten out his face into a more neutral, less skeptical snapshot. “I know that the town puts a great stock in you, but I’d just as soon you’d leave this to us.”

The tough godmother opened her mouth, but Al cleared his throat, interrupting her.

“You have something you want to add, Al?”

“You know how the town feels about the trolls, Bill.”

Bill picked up a pen and tapped it end over end on his desk. “I get that border stuff. I’ve got to draw the line at involving minors in a missing person’s investigation.”

David rolled his eyes. “At least it isn’t what it is in Hildi’s books. It’s not because we’re magic and they don’t believe it. This time they don’t want us around because we’re kids. It’s like being in an episode of Scooby Doo or something.”

Grant shot David a dark look. “Listen, Sheriff,” said Grant, “we’re passing along information. I would recommend a curfew for the kids, which I don’t figure would be unusual in this situation.”

“Would that include you?” Bill asked.

“Probably not,” said Hild. “Because I could probably go one-to-one with the Widow better than most of your men, being trained from an early age in how to use magical weapons and all.”

Bill glanced at Al, who was red with effort at not laughing. Jenny smiled slightly at Hild. Bill knew she was hard to get approval from.

“Miss Hrothgar, that still doesn’t change that in the state of Iowa, you are a legal minor.”

Hild shrugged. “Send an adult with me. I’ll protect them.”

Ah…Craig passed out this morning and is back in the hospital.

No word yet on why. I’ll keep you posted. We have quite the phone chain set up.

ETA: The going theory is that they may have left something unstitched during all the excitement of his resurrection a couple of weeks ago. They’re running other tests to rule things out, but they’ve reassured folks that it isn’t his heart. Which is one big phew.

Catherine

Are you going to World Fantasy in San Jose? It pays to know a native.

Here’s author Julie Rose’s guide to San Jose for folks who are visiting at the end of October. Thanks, Jools. I think I wants me some tapas…

Catherine

Here’s Fraser Sherman’s post on music. You can find me at Isabelle Santiago’s Twisted Fairytale.

And while I’m at it, please visit the Drollerie Chat Room on September 27th at 4 pm EST, 1 pm PST. New books will be given away. You know you want some.

***

Music baffles me.

I can’t begin to imagine how composers create music.

I can understand how they write lyrics, even though I’ve never tried. Lyrics are writing, they’re words, putting them together makes sense to me. But music?
While I enjoy music, I don’t have any technical understanding of what makes it work: Why one note sounds better than another, why certain notes belong together. I’m not even sure notes do belong together: For all I know, a nice but of music from the Beatles or Mozart would have worked just as well if they’d put a whole different set of notes in.

I imagine my more musically educated friends can see the structure of a symphony or a jazz trio the same way I can see the nuts and bolts of a story if I want to analyze it. to me, it’s just a lot of pretty notes, followed by a bunch more pretty notes.

As a result, I can’t for the life of me imagine the creative process of someone writing music. They say Mozard could conceive the structure of an entire symphony in an instant; I can’t even imagine what a musical structure is.

I have the same problem with some of those incredibly busy paintings that were popular a couple of centuries ago: How do they artists decide where everything will go, what everyone will be doing, how it all makes sense. But I come closer than I do with music: I can imagine someone sketching out a painting, crossing out a few figures, adding stuff, finally getting the draft. But how does that work with music?

I suppose this makes me the musical equivalent of those people who ask writers “where did you get all your ideas?” It’s oddly fascinating to me; there are many, many skills I don’t have but most of them I can still comprehend how they work and how people make them work. Music? Not so much.

If nothing else, i guess it will help to keep me humble.

I have 5 chapters of The Winter the Troll Danced with Old Nick in good shape. From here, things are changing mightily, although the ending is still good and sturdy. Next move? Go back to writing the plot lines through. I’ll start with the trolls and see where we go from there. I hope this works. It’s such a recalcitrant story.

However, Grant surprised me on Friday by deciding that he, David, and Hild were going to be an army of three. They intend to do active stuff. I want to see what he’s got in mind.

This week:

Monday 6-8
Tuesday 12-3
Wednesday 6-8 (Squid Boy Check in–we’re getting close to posting)
Thursday 6-8

This weekend it’s up to Minneapolis to catch a glimpse of the famous Maggie Stiefvater and get a copy of Ballad, and to have brunch with friends Twilight Angel and Caroline Stevermer.

In closing, a shout out to the newly married Catherine Lundoff and her partner Janna. You guys looked beautiful, and that was some cake.

My last official act as the author of Hulk Hercules: Professional Wrestler? The acknowledgments page.

I’ve seen the title prototype, and I hope to share it with you as soon as I can. Otherwise, I think it’s going to come down to publicity efforts.

But Cats Curious could yet surprise me. I’m very naive about these matters, but game to learn.

In other news, I’d like to tell you about some good things that are going on, but they certainly could come to nothing. However, I am the proud owner of a shiny medium-sized bubble which could pop at any time.

Catherine