Was in a minor collision today on my way home from work. I'm OK, the other driver is OK, both cars are fine. Meanwhile, the idiot who caused it drove off without even a bump.

I was on the service road that connects the NJ Turnpike to Routes 3 and 120, about to go over the overpass over Route 3. Meanwhile a black SUV a little ahead on my left realized he was in the wrong lane and wanted to be on that overpass too. He came to a full stop, pointing into my lane. Which ought to have been the end of it, but instead of waiting for traffic to clear, he then drove right in front of me at the last possible minute.

I slammed on the brakes, not sure if I would be able to stop in time. The other driver slammed on the brakes too, stopping right in front of me, about half a car length ahead.So when I saw the other car in my rear-view mirror, coming up too fast to stop, there was absolutely nowhere I could go. She bumped my tailgate, I skidded forward. I looked around for a good place to pull over. It was then that the black SUV in front of me started to pull away. I grabbed a pen and some paper to write down the license plate before he sped away.

I pulled over into a construction area off the edge of the road. The driver behind me pulled over, and ran to check on me while I was still getting the insurance info from my glove box. I gotta say, when I was single I would've loved to have a girl that cute running up to my window to ask if I was all right.

Anyway, she gave me her contact info, I gave her my card, and she gave me her account, which was pretty much what I just wrote down here. We checked her front bumper and my rear bumper, and while we were trying to figure out the police non-emergency number, a police car rolled up. He was on his way to another call, but he offered to send another officer to take our statements, if we wanted to report the accident. We discussed it briefly, and decided to wait for the other officer so that I could give him the license plate number of the driver who left the scene. And I admit, I did also want to have a little more time to chat with the pretty girl who'd rear-ended me. Once the first officer was gone, I excused myself to call my wife, and then we stood outside and waited for the police, talked about the various pre-existing dents and scratches in both of our bumpers, and how crazy some people in NJ are about their cars. She had noticed the child seats as soon as she hit my car, and was glad to know the kids were safe at home. Since she had my card, I thought about suggesting she check out my Web site and my books, but I didn't know if that would come off as in appropriate.

Anyway, the other officer arrived, and we told him the sequence of events, but when he ran the license plate number I gave him, nothing came up. I told him I might have transposed the 7 and the 9, but nothing came up that time either. So the reckless driver got away scot-free, and since there was no way to ticket him, and no visible damage to either car or driver (and the police officer checked under both cars with a flashlight to be sure there was no structural damage), we decided not to bother with an accident report. The other driver invited me to call her if any damage did turn up, and she reiterated her trustworthiness.

It was one of those weird situations, where you feel a certain closeness to a stranger, because of having gone through something together. I thought about saying something inane about it being a pleasure to meet her despite the circumstances, but I thought better of it. I hope I managed some pleasantry, but I honestly don't recall.

Anyway, I had to wait for her before I could pull out, unless I wanted to drive over the curb. The police officer came over to let me know he'd stop traffic so that we could get back out, just as WFUV decided to play a song on my radio about smoking pot. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to turn down the volume before rolling down the window.

On the way home, I thought about whether it would be appropriate to send the other driver a thank you note for doing the right thing, unlike that other schmuck. Then I realized I'd written her contact info down on the same scrap of paper I'd used for the SUV's license plate, which I then gave to the police officer, before not filing a report.

If I wrote that sort of thing, this would make a great opening for a romantic comedy.

I suppose it might also make a good "Magicking in Traffic" prompt, if anyone reading this is still looking for one.

Current Mood: amused

Shadow of the Antlered Bird has been reviewed in the latest Space & Time.  I haven't seen it yet, but the publisher e-mailed to tell me, and said a copy is on its way and she thinks I'll be pleased.

I awoke at 4:30 this morning to a crying baby.  I went to check on her in the crib, and she was sitting up. She already sits up if you put her in that position, but this may be the first time she's gotten there from lying on her back. I wonder if that's what she was crying about--like she got up on her own and now she didn't know how to get safely down.

Straying from the Path is now available from Drollerie Press.  Straying is a collection of Little Red Riding Hood retellings, and it includes my story "Behind the Tower"--an exploration of identity, and gender, and the nature of change and magic.  At a reading I once introduced "Tower" as "the most twisted thing I've ever written."  Which was true, at the time. I think I've gotten more twisted since, but it's still a story I'm proud of.  When I saw the call for submissions for Scheherazade's Facade, this was the story I thought of right away, but it was already spoken for. 

Current Mood: tired

By Friday, I was utterly exhausted.  And Andrew was sick.  On Saturday I went grocery shopping in the rain.  On Sunday I woke with a sore throat and canceled plans.

On Saturday, Rachel cleaned Andrew's room, and we moved some furniture. I did only the furniture-moving part, and some child wrangling.  As I said, I was wiped out.  But I am stunned with how good the room looks, now that there's no table in the middle.  Then today, Andrew put up a folding table in the middle of the room.  We folded it back up by bedtime.

Yesterday, I mentioned to Rachel that we'd received 24 stories for the anthology, and there were 6 that I thought we were very likely to publish.  Rachel said "Really?" and it took me a moment to realize from the tone of her voice that it was how few we were accepting, rather than how many, that surprised her. To me, a 25% acceptance rate sounds like setting the bar pretty low, but we've gotten some pretty amazing stories already.  .  . um, don't get me wrong--gotten some pretty amazing stories, but really needing quite a few more.  Unless the number of submissions goes up, we may have to extend the deadline just to make 50,000 words, let alone the 100,000 to 150,000 that the publisher suggested as a target length.

Mango juice and coconut rum is really good when one has a cold.  So is sleep, which I should be getting now.

Current Mood: sick

So we've been telling Andrew knock-knock jokes--not a lot, but enough to help him understand the concept--or at least we hope so.  But he's not there yet. Which isn't surprising.  Years ago, Rachel and I drove a friend and her then 6-year-old son to see the rerelease of Star Wars, and on the way he told a long series of knock-knock nonsequiturs, finally culminating in a surreal extemporized prose poem about a window floating out of its windowframe and hovering in the air.

This evening, not long before bedtime, Andrew brought me his mother's tape measure and announced: "I want to play a knock-knock game about tape measures."

The following exchange ensued:

Me: Knock-knock.
Andrew: Spider.
Me: Spider who?
Andrew: Spider tape measure.
Me: Um, knock-knock.
Andrew: Spider.
Me: Spider who?
Andrew: Spider tape measure.
Me: Um, Anddrew, when I say "Knock-knock," you're supposed to say "Who's there?"
Andrew: . . .
Me: Knock-knock.
Andrew: Spider.
Me: Spider who?
Andrew: Spider tape measure.
Me: OK.  Now you say knock-knock.
Andrew: . . .
Me: Go ahead.
Andrew: Knock-knock.
Me: Who's there?
Andrew: Orange.
Me (thinking at last we're getting somewhere.): Orange who?
Andrew: Orange banana.

And now I fear he may never figure it out, because that near miss had me in stitches.

Current Mood: amused

The proofs for Straying from the Path with final artwork arrived yesterday.  The anthology should be out as an e-book by the end of the month.  My story "Behind the Tower" has 2 very nice illustrations that weren't at all what I would have thought to use--but they work exceedingly well.  The first-page pic of a wolf drinking from a pond echoes back to the mythic roots of the tale, while the internal pic humanizes the story with a scene of the heroine in a moment that underscores both her vulnerability and the depth of the transformation that has come over her.

I also finished a first draft of "Lady Marmalade's Special Place in Hell," which will be my submission for the Scheherezade's Facade gender-bending anthology.  Have sent it to my critique group and a few other friends.  Getting good comments so far, with a few suggested changes.  Anyone else who wants to take a look please speak up. 

And yesterday and today we received three or four more stories for the Trafficking in Magic/Magicking in Traffic anthology, including one that chilled me to the bone, and another that seems worth seriously considering, depending what else comes in.

And the kewl piece of news: aside from a single piece of zombie flash fiction (which missed an anthology deadline by days, because I didn't check my e-mail often enough), every story I have that is ready for submission is currently out on some editor's desk or on its way there.  I don't know how often I manage that, but it's good to be able to get it all out there once in a while.

On the bad news, front, Sarah kept us up at least an hour past midnight SCREAMING.  I don't know if it's teething pain, or if she's caught our cold and is having trouble getting enough air in through her nose.  I've started reciting poetry to her (I did this for Andrew from day 1, but Sarah found us too strung out), but she really seems to prefer her mommy.

On the worse news front, I got a call from Andrew's school telling me that he had to come home because he was bullying the other kids.  This really worries me, because he's a good kid in so many ways, and I love him more than I love myself--possibly more than I love anyone else--but he's developing this problem with how he interacts with others, and I don't know what to do about aggression in a 3-year old.  If anyone out there has any suggestions, please let me know. 

Current Mood: worried

Saw an ostensibly new call for submissions yesterday for a zombie flash fiction anthology.  Spent 20 minutes trying to trim 87 words out of a 587-word story.  Got 85 of them out, then decided to check the Web site for how much it paid.  Found out that the anthology was closed to submissions.  E-mailed Duotrope today to let them know.

Dream journal:
10/3/09: I'm with my parents, visiting the Hamptons (I've been to the Hamptons once in my life; to my knowledge, my parents have never been there), and we see a house that looks like the beautiful glass beach house my parents owned in another dream, months ago.  My mother says, "It's beautiful, but that's the house to buy," and points to a traditional boxy yellow house that is quite spacious and has a view of all the other houses in the area. Later on, I go with my father to check out the yellow house, and it turns out that the house, while sizeable, is only one room, going all the way up to the rafters.  Oh, and there's another house hunter there, with a sleepy kangaroo on a leash.

Current Mood: frustrated

All Drollerie Press e-books are on sale this week and next for $1.99 or less.  Including my Shadow of the Antlered Bird and the 2 anthologies I'm in: StereoOpticon and Needles & Bones.

The anthologies usually retail at around $10, so if you read e-books, this is a great time to pick them up.  Antlered Bird is currently listed at $1.59--I'm not sure if that's a glitch or not, and I've e-mailed the publisher to check, so I don't know how long that extra bit of savings will be available.

Also a great time to pick up Sarah Avery's Rugosa Coven books, and works by many many wonderful Drollerie Press authors.

Sale ends October 17.

Current Mood: bouncy

...appears to be, um, Lost in Space meets The Last Starfighter.  May yet be worth watching, if they flesh out the characters well enough.  At the moment, I'm neither dismissing it nor getting my hopes up.

Current Mood: hopeful

Was sick as a dog on Monday, sick as a cat on Tuesday, but only sick as a mouse today, so I went back to work. 

Actually, Monday was pretty productive.  Rachel saw how sick I was and took pity on me--took the kids out so I would have time to recuperate.  Only she asked for my help getting the kids out, just when I would have been able to nap--so I ended up home alone, and I got 4 poems submitted to an e-zine, and 2 stories printed out and put into envelopes to be submitted by mail the next day.

The new computer arrived.  Cute and tiny and blue.  And so light that when I put it in a briefcase with all my notebooks and everything I take to work with me, it was still lighter than the old laptop I've been using.  I took it to work with me, but I forgot one of the power cords, so I had to drag in the old one from the car.  I'm going to have to find a good outlet to charge it at night.

There may be more I wanted to write, but I've forgotten.

Current Mood: sick

After days of looking at various stripped-down computers for $200-$270, and learning enough geekspeak to figure out what to look for (1 GB RAM, Atom processor, 120+ GB HD or 16+ GB SSD, <3 lb, 8.9' screen), I finally figured out what the priority was that made it worth buying a computer with money as tight as it is.  Yeah, it would be nice to be able to get online at the same time as Rachel; yeah it would be nice to have a dependable laptop that runs Word and doesn't freeze up.  But the thing that makes it an investment is that when a prospective client says "I can't open the interactive writing sample you sent," I can take the computer to the interview and open it in their office. 

This is a big deal, because my best samples of corporate writing are interactive media that nobody else in the world seems able to open.  And I can show them on the page, but then you don't get the interactivity, not to mention the cool effects that the art designers threw in.  So I'm not sure what writing jobs there are to be had in the current economy, but this is a good step toward finding them.

So once I realized I would be using it to show work to clients, I started to wonder about the screen size, and whether it would be good to spend the extra money on a 10.1" screen.  Then tonight I was going through the latest deals when I noticed a computer with an 11.6" screen for only a little more.  And it was blue!  "This is it!" I said--but fortunately, I scrolled down a little further, just in case, and I found what looked like the same computer for about the same price, but with twice the RAM and an insane hard drive (what can anyone do with 250 GB of disk space?  I mean, when I got rid of the old drafts, I managed to store all the manuscripts from my current hard drive on a 1-GB data stick.  What am I gonna do with another 249?).   At 2.8 pounds, it's the upper end of my desirable weight range (I was looking at others that weighed about 2.3), but the battery life is reasonable (4 h).  And it's blue! 

So I placed the order tonight.  I probably should've waited another day to be sure I still liked it, or looked it over to see if there was some catch I overlooked, but so far every time I've seen a deal I liked it was gone by the time I got around to buying.  

So, um, I don't normally do the free advertising thing, but if this sounds like as good a deal to anyone else out there as it does to me (or if you'd like to check it out and show me the nasty catch I overlooked), you can find it here.  The coupon code (END30) expires at the end of the month.

Current Mood: excited

I can’t listen to music when I write, save for on rare occasions…if there is one song that’s perfect for a scene, or some classical or instrumental music, turned low, that I’m not overly familiar with, those are things I can listen to while I write.  But mostly, I can’t because music, to me, tells a story all by itself, and most of the time it’s not the story I’m trying to tell.

For instance, have you ever heard Smetana’s “The Moldau”?  (Note, I said classical that I’m not overly familiar with, earlier…)  It starts out all gentle and floaty, then becomes this dramatic march.  When I listen to it, it becomes the story of the Queen of Winter, and her love for a man of the summer lands, and their battle, and the triumphant end.  “Bolero” is a chess game, fought between a couple and the cruel man who wants to steal the wife from her husband.  Roxette’s “Fading Like a Flower” is a parlor piece, set in the 17^th century…a love story between a highwayman and a young lady.  Maybe it’s because I started listening to the radio in earnest when I received my first radio in 1987, when the TV show Friday Night Videos was still on, showing the rock videos for the most popular songs of the week, but I always see images when I hear a song, I put together a story.

There have been, once in a great while, songs that spurred a story that I would have to write.  There was a song by INXS’s Michael Hutchence, that he sung for a movie soundtrack called “Rooms for the Memory,”  that inspired a short story.  I remember, since this song was on a tape, going over to my Brother Word Processor, hitting play, writing for the length of the song, pausing, rewinding, hitting play again, over and over until the story was done.  To be honest, I’m not sure if the song and the story that eventually came from it match each other very well, but this was how I managed to write…and finish…my first short story.

By the way, the next Drollerie Chat is on Sunday, September 27th, at 4:00 PM eastern.  We'll be giving away copies of our September releases...so come and talk to us!

This just in: annathepiper has posted a review of my book.   Anna's own book, Faerie Blood, came out from Drollerie Press this year, and if you go back several months, you can find a post on my LJ where Tam from Antlered Bird has a chat with Christopher MacSimidh from Faerie Blood.  

I suppose that kills any appearance of objectivity in the review, but I will say that Antlered Bird is one of a short list of books Anna mentioned when saying why she decided to forgo her earlier decision not to post any Drollerie books on her book log.

The call for submissions for the Trafficking in Magic/Magicking in Traffic anthology has been up for 1 month now, and is listed on Ralan.com as of Thursday.  Thursday night we had three new submissions.  I'm not sure if that's why we had three new submissions then--but we did, and one more that was forwarded from the main Drollerie submissions address bringing the grand total so far up to ten.  Of these ten, we now have:

• One that we will be accepting outright
• Two more that are of unmistakably professional quality, which I hope to hold onto until we see what else comes in
• Two more that have flashes of brilliance that might turn into something wonderful, with the right encouragement and guidance
• Four that are not bad but also not for us
• One that is downright abysmal

Current Mood: hopeful

...I did not have time to post yesterday.  There was way too much going on.  Among the things going on:

The good news:

I got 2 poems accepted for publication in Artocratic.  These are previously published poems going into a nonpaying Web site published by someone I know (or used to know, long ago), so it's not a huge deal, but now they'll be available to read online, instead of being hidden in a magazine somewhere.

I also received the check from Circlet Press for the story that will be in Like a Sacred Desire. Again, not a huge deal, but nice to have.

The sad news:
Yesterday I found out about the deaths of 2 people I knew peripherally.  One of them was the mother of my friend Sarah Plummer, after whom my Sarah was named.  We fell out of touch with the Plummers after Sarah died in 2003, so the death of Ann Plummer was a complete surprise.  The obituary said she was 74, so I guess that's a full life, and she still had 2 surviving children.  But I don't think she ever found out that there are now two Sarahs named after her daughter (the second was born to another friend, around 3 months before our Sarah).

The other death was a guy named David Multer, whom I knew when I lived in Seattle, who died in 1995.  The e-mail from Greg Dember of Artocratic asked whether I knew David had died.  I didn't.  So far I don't know any other details.  I first met David Multer when I was in Gasworks Park with a friend and we had made an impromptu Othello board with a permanent marker and found bottlecaps.  I went away for some reason, and when I got back there was someone else I hadn't met playing.  It turned out later that we had a number of friends in common, and David, a very talented flutist, was 1/2 of the duo Freak of Nature (with singer/songwriter/guitarist Jonathan Kochmer).

The very good news:
Rachel's best friend Elena bought a house, and we spent a chunk of Saturday helping her move in.  Yesterday, Elena invited us to come over and visit the house for the first time.  It's a nice place.  The ceilings are low, and she'll need to make some changes over time, but it has good energy, and for the most part the necessary changes aren't urgent or immediate.

The wondrous news:
Andrew had last week off from school, because of the start of the school year.  All summer he was telling me how much he hates his school, and all last week I was kicking myself for not having done the research to see about transferring him into a Montessori school to see if he's happier there.  Yesterday, I took him into school, and the teacher told me he wasn't in her class any more, that I had to take him to the next room over.  He was very upset about this, he didn't want to move to a different classroom.  But I took him down the hall anyway and was instructed to take him outside.  He didn't want to go outside either, but I took him outside, and the new playground had real playground equipment like you'd find in a public park or school, but more importantly, it had the same kids who'd been in his class before.  "My same friends!" he shouted and ran off to play.

Last night I asked him if he had fun in school (I was dreading the answer but hopeful that the moment of joy would take), and he said, "Yes.  I had fun.  I didn't used to like school, because I wasn't ready.  Now I'm ready and I like school."

It carried through to this morning (even though I had to drag him out of bed).  He still likes school. 

Today at lunch I told a friend that Andrew ran off to play without saying goodbye, and she said, "That hurts." 

I said, "No, it's wonderful.  He finally likes going to school."

Granted, this is only the second consecutive day of his liking school, and he could backslide at any minute.  But if this takes, it's a major change for the better.

Current Mood: ecstatic

The calls for submissions really moved.  I'm going to have to print more of them for the next convention.  Which will probably be PhilCon.  I wasn't planning on going, but it seems like a good way to get a really good selection of entries for the anthology.

Now I'm back at work waiting for one slide deck to go through, and wishing I were already on my way home to see my wife and kids.

Current Mood: tired

...Just finished packing for Pi-Con.  Have been going through my files trying to figure out what to bring for my reading.  I don't think I have a single story that's just the right length for a half-hour reading, so I might bring a bunch of short things.


So I was recently reminded (by my coeditor) that no one ever makes money on anthologies.  But I've come to think that it was a good decision to take the project on anyway, for a few reasons:

1. I won't be writing a novel a year, at least, not until the kids are a good bit older.  But I can, conceivably, finish a novel one year and put together an anthology the next, back and forth until I have the free time to write more.  Theoretically, this should give me the appearance of professionalism, if I can put out something with my name on it, an average of once a year.
2. If it goes to print, I can sell and sign them at conventions just like a book of my own, which will add to the variety on the table in front of me at signings etc.
3. I once read an interview where Bob Dylan was asked if there was any song he wished he'd written, and he answered that "American Pie" always sounded to him like a Dylan song.  Well, not "sounded," but it seemed like the kind of thing he'd write, but somehow Don McLean got it instead.  Well, just last week I read a piece of work that was my American Pie.  I mean, it seemed like something I really ought to have come up with, but someone else got it first.  And it was in the slush pile.  My slush pile.  That piece has already been written; I will never have the opportunity to write it myself.  But if I put it in an anthology, then it's part of something that really is mine.  Like raising a foster poem.
4. The submissions address is magic@drolleriepress.com.  Yes, I get to send and receive mail at an e-mail address called "magic" that I don't have to pay for.  How cool is that?

Current Mood: amused

New news!

dr_pretentious and I will be coediting an anthology for Drollerie Press.  This is the first time I've ever edited an anthology, and I'm looking forward to seeing what people submit.  Please forward this information near and far, and if you are a writer, please send me something grand! 

The details:


Drollerie Press is seeking entries for a pair of short anthologies.

• Trafficking in Magic deals with the sale and transport of magical goods and services, including magical beings, artifacts, fortune telling, communing with the dead, and other spells for hire, or the sale of magical energy itself


• Magicking in Traffic deals with magic in the flow of traffic–which could be street traffic, commerce, the flow of energies, or something else entirely–whether to aid, block, or manipulate the flow of traffic, or simply to play in it

Current Mood: excited

When I was a child, my mother took a teaching job in the Detroit public schools and found conditions there so bad that she founded a school in her basement for neighborhood kids.  When the government tried to crack down, she got together with other teachers and parents to found the Detroit Free School and the Detroit Children's School.  When those schools folded, my parents took out loans and sent us to Roeper City and Country School until, even on scholarship, the money got to be too much, and they sent my brother to Renaissance High and me to University of Detroit High School/Jesuit Academy (because I was in the 8th grade and Renaissance only took 9th-12th).  The following year, we moved to Marquette and enrolled in the public schools there. 

So, in a way, you could say that a big part of my early education was shaped by _not_ attending Detroit public schools.  Well, today on the way back from lunch I saw a television news story that Detroit public schools may become the first ever school system to declare bankruptcy.  Which, if you take a look-on-the-bright-side approach, means that now many more kids will also have the advantage of not attending Detroit public schools.  But I get the feeling that a lot of those kids may have more stacked against them than I did, and the chance at a public education, even a lousy one, may, for some, be something they absolutely need.

Now, obviously, the schools won't close entirely.  They're mandated by the government to stay open.  But when schools are underfunded, they tend not to cut away the chaff but instead to get rid of the arts and humanities.  I'm hoping that, if this failure is spectacular enough, then it will lead to a reinvention or metamorphosis, that something really good can come from it.  But somehow I think that's a really slim hope, unless the fed gets involved, which could be transformative, or it could muck things up even more.

I guess we'll see.

Current Mood: worried