Sense of Adventure

So today I dropped a cool $124 and change on supplies at Costco. Eggs, facial tissue, olive oil … that sort of thing. I impulse bought a door mat for $19. Okay, so I’ve needed one for a couple years now. But it’s not a necessity.

On the one hand I suppose I need to be cautious, what with price inflation just starting to blow up. If I were smart I’d probably split for two tons of toilet paper. There’s something that’s going to continue to be in demand. Of course, a year from now that door mat’ll probably be worth a million dollars. Then again, a decent scavenged wood screw will go for more than my current net worth.

… Anyway, the mat’s going right back, it turns out. It’s huge. It’s not so much a welcome mat as a porch carpet. Ah, well. Shoulda read the specs closer.

Meanwhile … to actually talk about the nominal subject of this post … I saw what struck me as a leading contender for Worst Dog Toy Ever: the Plush-Toy Skunk.

Um. Leaving aside the cliché in the room, skunks are redoubtable predators who can quite savagely rip on a dog with powerful claws as well as teeth.

And now, not leaving aside the obvious … hello: they’re skunks?

Do you really want to accustom your dog to the idea it’s a good idea to play with them? What’s next? Cuddles the Rattlesnake? Mr. Sparky the Chewable Electric Cord?

It’s like giving your kid a Bath-Buddy Toaster.

Among the other somewhat bizarre and variegated wildlife we’ve got in my neighborhood, there indeed are skunks. How do I know? Well - and you’re not going to believe this, I know - I’ve smelled them. Especially in the Spring.

Love. It’s in the air, baby.

Thanks to everybody who turned out for the signing. I told you a good time would be had by all. And what do you know …?

I just had a big old boatload of fun Saturday at Page One. And as I said, I’m not even in the book. Although as it turned out I was called on to sign copies of various earlier Wild Cards books. And even one or two copies of Inside Straight, for people who apparently wanted to get as many WC authors’ autographs as possible.

We had a good turnout. I’d have to say at least a hundred people and probably more. We got a number of folks from ASFS, including the lovely and irrepressible Pat Rogers, Kevin Hewett, Craig Chrissinger, and Dawn Barela. Various WC authors not in the book appeared as well (so those who wanted as many signatures as possible kinda hit the jackpot), including Laura Mixon, Sage Walker, Gail Gerstner-Miller, Walter Jon Williams, and of course me, as well as Royce (Chip) Wideman and Parris, non-writers who contributed characters to the pantheon. To my pleased surprised a goodly contingent of non-Wild Cards NM authors also came out and supported us, including Pati Nagle and her husband Chris Crohn, Laura’s husband Steve Gould (whose movie Jumper comes out next week!), Robert Vardeman, Steve and Jan Stirling, and Jane Lindskold and her husband Jim Moore, Joan Spicci, and Ty and Jayné Franck. (Anyone I overlooked, please forgive me.)

What was coolest, though, as others in the group also noted, was how many faces we didn’t know. This wasn’t all just the Usual Suspects turning out, grateful as we all are to them for doing so. We got a lot of new people not just to attend, but to buy books. And that’s no bad thing.

The audience seemed to enjoy the presentation in advance of the signing proper. I did. When it was over a lengthy line formed for autographs. I had intended to come and listen to the opening show, then maybe take off. Instead I had such a great time hanging out and talking with people I never could tear myself away.

I also noticed that after the signing finally ended, and most of the regular public drifted away, the area Page One had set up in front of the signing tables with twenty or twenty-five chairs was mostly occupied by various NM SF writers talking to each other, reminding me once again what an incestuous community we are. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

As we packed up Caroline Spector asked the gentleman from Page One who’d run things - profuse apologies; I’ve spaced on his name - how many books sold. He said about seventy-five, plus some put on hold by people who weren’t able to make the signing. While that left a lot of copies out of the 200 they had on hand, he seemed thrilled. That’s pretty good sales for New Mexico. And it’s not as if those’re the only copies that’re going to get sold.

The Wild (Cards) Bunch and select others adjourned to a nearby Garduño’s Restaurant, where super-agent Kay McCauley threw us a swell reception. There, thanks to the kind offices of Melinda, I actually got to meet our editor from Tor, Patrick Nielsen Hayden. I also met a couple of Parris’ very nice friends from Ireland, Paul and Sally. Paul, as he puts it, swordfights for a living - being a notable re-enactor and movie stunt guy.

Laura got concerned because one of her adolescent daughters wasn’t answering her cell phone. Eventually the strayed lamb was heard from. I told Steve I didn’t reckon they’d have much trouble from young men wanting to date their daughters. All they need do, I said, was point to Steve and say: yes, Dad wrote a novel that got turned into a movie starring Samuel L. Jackson. I mean, Samuel L. Jackson. That ought to cut down on the nonsense.

Of course, it also means the daughters will never actually have a date until they move to a different continent and change their names. But what’s that to parental peace of mind?

Many thanks are due to Page One, PNH, and Kay, all of whom did wonderfully well by us. Also Craig, who gave us a nice review in the previous Sunday’s Albuquerque Journal.

Parris said the whole get-together was “a lot like having the band back together.” John Miller said it was the best signing he’s ever participated in.

I tend to agree with both sentiments.

I can’t tell … and if you want some clues, go here.

Click there now and check it out. Seriously. I’ll still be here when you get back.

Y’all know, probably (and if you don’t, hang around a spell and it’ll all become abundantly clear) that I’m more than somewhat slightly skeptical and cynical about conventional Big House publishing and publishers.

That said, Tor Books so far are doing a bang-up job promoting our spanky-brand-new Wild Cards offering, Inside Straight. They’re actually putting some effort into it. And the just-launched American Hero site is a wonderful step.

I’m basically in love with the site. Along with a very fine-looking logo we have brilliant headshots of all the contestant aces (I love Toadie’s big ol’ eye just staring at you) taken from the big group pictures done by artist Mike S. Miller. Farther down, past the first of what will be a continuing series of “confessionals” by the contestants, and a description of the reality-television series which drives the plot for much of the book, we see the group portraits themselves, along with rosters. Fortunately you can click on the group shots for larger versions, which is a good thing, because they’re freakin’ gorgeous.

They’re also, according to the characters’ creators - I’m not one, incidentally - pretty accurate, allowing for a wisp of artistic license. Frankly, from what I’ve read, they’re far, far closer to the characters as described than most illustrations I’ve seen. Indeed, I wish I’d had these pix to refer to when I was writing my sequences for the (ahem!) next volume, Busted Flush. Since some of the characters pictured play prominent roles in my contributions.

Ah, well. I’ll have ‘em for Book Three. Provided I’m in the volume … which, I have to say at the risk of tempting Fate, is fairly likely … they’ll be great to draw upon.

(more…)

Since I was rendered mentally fuzzy (okay, more so than usual) by the cruds the last couple weeks, I plumb neglected to announce this: Tor Books is launching the all-new Wild Cards volume Inside Straight with a gala mega-signing Saturday, February 2, 2008 at Page One Bookstore, Montgomery and Juan Tabo NE in Albuquerque, at 2:00 PM MST.

Featured will be George R.R. Martin, Melinda M. Snodgrass, Daniel Abraham, Michael Cassutt, John Jos. Miller, Ian Tregillis, Carrie Vaughn, and Tor Books editor Patrick Nielsen Hayden. That’s, if I reckon right, seven of eight authors and the editor. They’ll be discussing the new mosaic novel as well, of course, as signing it.

Play your cards right and you might live to talk about it even get to see some other Wild Cards authors. Such as, um, me. I don’t have a story in this volume, but I do in the next. I’ve offered to come and heckle.

But wait - there’s more. Since two out of three authors will be there, you can also get your copy of the new SF novel Hunter’s Run by George R.R. Martin. Gardner Dozois, and Daniel Abraham signed.

That should fill anybody’s recommended daily allowance of awesome.

Mark it down on your calendars. A good time should be had by all.

Yesterday (technically, day before now; but I only count it as a new day if I’ve been to sleep) I was awakened by a whump from the front porch, followed by Emma barking furiously.

By the time I found my robe and struggled into it and reeled to the front door I’d figured out, of course, what it likely was. A brand new box o’ Annja!

She has a somewhat new look on the new cover (for a larger image, and one which isn’t an ill-concealed ad, click here.) On some earlier covers her face was, at least to me, markedly reminiscent of Jessica Alba’s. Now, I think Jessica Alba has a nearly angelically beautiful face - too bad the child can’t act a lick. But she ain’t Annja.

This time, aside from those funky lips that seem to verge way too close upon Mick Jagger territory, she looks much more as I envision her, with a longer, less round face. Think more Hillary Swank or Jill Wagner, who played Krista Starr in the awful Blade TV series.

I really love the way her eye and part of her face are reflected in her Mystic Blade. Too bad it doesn’t appear to be sharpened…

Also this version of Annja seems to present her for the first time, at least on one of my covers, as a beautiful, sophisticated young woman who, if she happens to think you need it, will fucking kill you.

On other fronts … no graceful segue here … I’m befuzzled and off-balance. More so than usual. I haven’t been sick much this fall and winter. Until a week and half ago, when I got a scratchy throat, inclining to soreness, and then my chest got socked-in with bronchitis. It’s come and gone and actually was at its worse a couple of days ago: Monday it was all I could do not to sleep all day. Finally it seems to be breaking up some.

It’s been a bit rough. Not because I’ve felt terrible - I haven’t, mostly. Even when I’ve had a sore throat it hasn’t hurt much. But I’ve been short of breath and, along with the aforementioned drowsiness, often had a hard time focusing mentally. That makes it hard to get much done.

Poor Emma’s going stir crazy because we haven’t been out to walk in so long. I intended to go today until the wind came up. The cold cut through me like a scythe. Tomorrow isn’t looking any too promising either…

According to this item, Maila Nurmi, known for her portrayal of Vampira on the big screen and small, is no more.

Before she can appear again she must await the implementation of Plan 9: the Resurrection of the Dead.

Good luck, with that, Vampira! You shall be missed.

===

Who will be the next American Hero? (spread the word)

Ahh, the sweet, sweet sound of water rushing unimpeded through the blown-out stub in my backyard! It fills my heart with joy.

Who knew that would ever happen?

Here’s how it did.

When last we left our hero, his easy-going nature was getting sorely freakin’ tested by his household plumbing.

I woke this morning at around 9 AM and found myself unable to go back to sleep. Visions of plumbing danced in my head (it’ll never replace sugar plums. And what are sugar plums, anyway? Face it, visions of plumbing won’t even replace visions of hippos dancing in tutus.) So I decided that, even though my body cried out for more sleep, I’d go ahead and hook up the new faucet out back and get everything flowing again.

I padded out back with wrench and assembly in hand. Only to find the PVC join I’d cemented onto the stub yesterday completely encased in ice.

Oh … dear. Apparently water had seeped out despite my having cut the supply off out on the sidewalk. Which brought to mind the distinctly unpleasant possibility that water standing in the pipes had been driven by freezing pressure. In all of my pipes. Had more of them ruptured over the night?

There’s a happy thought.

(more…)

I must’ve been missing more sleep than I thought; wound up unable to stay awake until like eleven hours after I went to sleep. Happens.

But I was awake for a spell around 10 AM. Emma wanted out a bit earlier. It’s cold as a politician’s heart out there; she wanted back in pretty expeditiously. So I padded to the back door to retrieve her.

As I did I became aware of a persistent mechanical sound. After a moment I identified it as a helicopter. They fly over my house all the time. Once or twice a week I see V-22 Ospreys (aka Flying Crematoria) go over.

But this noise wasn’t Dopplering or showing other signs of movement. When I opened the back door I saw a helicopter hovering not very far to the west. A check with binocs confirmed it was the KOAT-TV News bird.

So I went back to bed and clicked on Channel 7. They were showing, I believe, The View, in the right-hand pane of a split window. On the left was live aerial footage of what the crawl bar beneath described as “Albuquerque home in flames.”

Indeed. And indeed it proved to be on Grande near Griegos, a block past 12^th Street. Basically ten or so blocks due west of me - half a mile to a mile away.

I didn’t see much by way of flames coming from the house, not that I particularly wanted to. What really caught my attention was that the street was on fire.

Let me repeat that: The Street. Was On Fire.

(more…)

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

Tor Books’ official Wild Cards page has launched. It looks farkin’ great, and navigates well, which is all-important (too often “good” web design involves gloss interfering with usability, if not making navigation utterly impossible.)

I admit I’m less than enamored with use of Javascript pop-ups for images. But that’s a mere nerble. It’s a handsome job, and should become the indispensable go-to site on the Web for all things Wild Card.

None of the info I’ve provided on me or my characters (to date, Tripsie, his “friends,” and Mordecai Jones, the Harlem Hammer) has yet appeared. That’s no issue, as far as I’m concerned; obviously it makes sense for Tor - and us, for that matter - to concentrate on pimping the upcoming release, Inside Straight, due out January 22^nd. Don’t forget to pre-order your copy (and many more as presents for friends and loved ones, plus one to stash away in plastic for the benefit of future generations!) right here.

But wait - there’s more.

(more…)

… snow falling from a mostly clear, bright blue sky.

Emma asked to go out a while back, maybe half an hour. It was snowing and the ground was pretty well whitened with a comprehensive but thin layer of snow. She didn’t particularly want to stay out but she needed to eat her breakfast (okay, I got up a little late today) and also the cats get an early treat.

Emma’s in fact really good about keeping away from what’s not hers, amazingly even food, until given explicit permission. But I don’t want to torment the girl, nor have her presence make the cats nervous. They like her and trust her not to act hostile, but not to get rambunctious and, you know, accidentally squash them.

Anyway I got everything taken care of and went out to bring Emma in and let her finish eating inside where she wasn’t at risk from moisture falling on her from the sky. I noticed that little bitty flakes of snow still fell enthusiastically. I also noticed the back yard looked pretty bright.

I stepped off the porch and looked up. There remained some pretty dense, stormy-looking clouds roundabout, but overhead was a huge swatch of brilliant blue, with just a kind of thin horsetail sweeping across one side of it. But what was amazing was looking up and up through millions of falling flakes into the bright sky.

It really took me by surprise. I’m not unused to sun showers; heck, here in NM, especially with the spring winds, we can get dust storms in the midst of rain storms when, yes, the sun is shining: mud sun showers. Seriously.

But a snow sun shower? That’s a new one on me.

It was really pretty. It did look a bit like one of those mock snowfalls, where fine powder blows off tall roofs or tree branches. But there’s nothing particularly tall around here. No big trees in the neighbor’s yard, or indeed the next; and it’s pretty much one story from here north to city’s end. Anyway, in spite of coming down at a notably steep angle, this snow was clearly not bing blown off anything (not enough wind; that’s another thing.) It was falling.

When I stepped out again about two minutes later I thought the snow had stopped. Then I noticed a few flakes dusting down and stepped off the porch again. I could still see falling flakes stacked way up the sky.

Now (10-15 minutes later) I’m guessing the snow’s stopped. I’m sitting on the sofa facing the front wall; through the translucent window liner thingies (writes Mr. Professional Writer Guy Who Always Knows the Right Word) the light’s dimmed, indicating it’s clouded back over.

I hope the streets don’t get too icy. ASFS is holding a Dessert Bake-Off for its December meeting tonight, and somehow I was conscripted into entering my Red Chile Pumpkin Soup, even though it’s not dessert. We shall see.

And indeed do many things come to pass.