And that was all she wrote.  And all I’m gonna write, on this one.

Now, this is by no means unalloyed bad news. It’s not as if I don’t have plenty to do. Leaving aside The Dinosaur Lords and the rest of the Ballad of Karyl’s Last Ride Trilogy – which granted is a lot to leave aside, and have you checked out the swell free sample chapters here online? – I’ve also got a contract to do novels in the Deathlands series. One of which I am even now battling non-life-threatening but draining smoke-induced sickness to complete.

I won’t lie: I’m taking a hit here to the tune of around $20,000 income over the next two years. Which is a definite owie. That money would be welcome.

It’s not necessary to make it through. I won’t be flush. But barring the Unforeseen (knock wood) I should get by just fine. I am gonna have to think long and hard about the planned car upgrade, though. (I do get to keep all that’s been paid me – well enough, since it’s all been for work done and delivered. I just get no more, including the delivery and acceptance payment for the first novel.)

I could have fulfilled all these writing tasks, and done them well; I have made some changes in my life, and am producing different, and better, outcomes than ever before. There are more reasons to be just as glad to be shut of it.

First off, I write to entertain – first myself, then others.  Indeed I have found my success in doing the former is pretty directionally proportionally to my success at the latter. My belief is that if it’s not fun for me to write, how can it be fun to read? And so it seems to go.

(I understand other people have different experiences; remember the Second Iron Law of Writing, which is that One Size Never Fits All.)

Consequently if I can’t have fun with a project, I won’t take it on. Fortunately, I’m good at finding fun in writing projects. I did have fun with the Seekrit Projekt, and would have continued to. But … I wasn’t looking forward to it all that much, I must confess. The books would’ve become increasingly more bleak, and that’s not my schtick. Although we do know someone whose schtick it definitely is, don’t we? For me, it would’ve grown harder to find the fun. This harder to write – at least well.

And anything I write, I want to write well. Well for what it is, obviously – the sort of attention I lavished up The Dinosaur Lords would not be appropriate for the straight-up action/adventure series books, it is not expected, and in truth, would probably not be welcome.

Also. I straight-up have to admit I was kind of dreading the editorial notes the CEO would come back with. He’s been … mercurial, let’s say, throughout the course of my dealings with the company. Indeed there’s a whole strange and terrible – yet ultimately (to me at least) – wonderfully uplifting saga here which I’ll save for a future post.. But … I reckoned he might come back with drastic changes.

Nothing quite this drastic, obviously. And that’s an agonizing and no doubt enormous rewrite I do not have to do!

I felt the hit, I have to tell you. I am not yet Zen/Stoic enough to refuse utterly to allow external factors to influence my internal state. (I don’t know if I ever care to be quite that impenetrable; rather, I prefer to learn to control my state in part by cultivating people, events, and circumstances which conduce to my feeling good. But that’s a way different post!) The phrase, “a humiliating kick in the crotch” has resounded and rebounded through my mind considerable the last twenty-four hours. (Which I thought was from Pink Floyd’s The Wall, somewhere, but to my surprise turns out to come from the Police song, “Synchronicity II.” Which by coincidence is one of the few Police songs I like.)

Still … it did not, and does not, hurt. As I’ve said, there’s as much silver lining as cloud here. Indeed, although I promised the editor I would fulfill the contract when she asked after I announced the DinoLords sale, before that I did consider trying to buy out from under. But for various reasons including my desire to be true to my craft by behaving as professionally as I can, I chose to suck it up carry the commitment.

And now that weight is gone! And I did not choose to try to escape it.

Last night I went to dinner with my excellent friends Roslee Orndorff and Steve and Kathy.Kubica. Then when that broke up I joined my likewise excellent friends Larry Hays and James Wilson for iced tea  in a nearby establishment. So, double dose o’ socializing:  bonus! And when I eventually came home, quite tired out, I realized I felt good.

That in itself, is victory. It represents real and enormous progress.

Thanks to everybody for the support they’ve given me on this. And as always, thanks for reading!

But the answer’s no. And I won’t be for a while.

I’m doing well. Overall. Splendidly, considered the fabled alternative.

Since Thursday I went for a follow-up check with the chest surgeon, I thought it might be appropriate to give up a quick update on the State of the Me.

The surgeon said my X-rays looked “fantastic,” and seemed to feel I was making excellent progress. In a less-happy irony my chest has hurt like a mother since then.

And that’s to be expected. For a while, as they doctors reassured me. I had some major poking and prodding done, not least of which being the chest drains – plumbing fixtures, yes – stuck in my chest for a couple weeks. What I got was either the most invasive non-invasive surgery possible, or the least invasive invasive surgery possible.

Either way I’m quite appreciative for the technology (as well, of course, as the people wielding it!) that not only saved my life but did so in a way that did far less damage than would have been the case just a few years ago. But it’s still a major injury in itself. That takes time to heal from even if you’ve got a tungsten-carbide constitution like mine.

(If I didn’t, you’d be following this blog via Ouija board.)

I lost over seventy pounds. While it fluctuates a few pounds, and I haven’t lost any for a month or two, I’ve kept my weight down. I haven’t really been trying to lose; mostly to heal. The blood sugar remains well within range, thanks largely to la vida low-starch that I’ve followed religiously and without serious inconvenience since I got sprung.

My stamina’s still not great. I’m trying to get up to walking Emma Dog two miles a day every day for a week, then kicking the total up. Target: four miles a day. I’ve not yet gotten to doing the two every day, mostly because of the endurance thing. We are building slowly, and yes, surely.

The mental state is clear to partly cloudy. Serious anesthesia can take a while to recover from, and I got that too. My mental focus is still not what I at least hope it used to be; and my memory is spotty. While part of that might be accountable to the fact that, one month from yesterday, I turn 392 in dog years, I’ve noticed steady improvement from the surgery onward.

Overall, things go remarkably well. I am grateful. The writing is coming along. Rewriting, specifically, although there are other pots simmering as well. Some most promisingly.

It’s time to kick my life into high gear. I feel as if I was sent back for a purpose. More, I feel as if I tried my damnedest to die and wasn’t permitted to. I learn more everyday how to honor that fact and conduct myself accordingly.

My friends made it possible for me to survive. In a great number of astonishing ways. I remain humble and profoundly grateful. I will do all that I can to honor their astounding love and generosity and intensive real-world labor on my behalf, by doing what I was sent back to do: entertain the world with marvelous fictions. As part of doing my utmost to increase the sum of human happiness.

Despite the crotchets and quibbles, and the aches which I can, after all, endure, really, I’m doing great. Thank you for caring.

Thanks, everybody. I’ll make it worth your while.

As I mentioned in my last post, I need to maintain and build my online presence, and at the same time, I have limited amounts of time and energy to spend on blogging.  So I thought I’d ask you please to share with me your wisdom on what you’d like Sense of Adventure to be.

Please understand, all suggestions are gratefully acknowledged and considered. And I won’t necessarily follow them. Even the best. In the end, it’ll be my call. I say that just (based on terrible experiences in the past) to avoid or at least minimize ill feelings. I’m not rejecting you even if I don’t implement your idea.

The fact is, it’ll all help. It’ll all influence me, regardless of specifics. So, please, hit me with your best shot.

I promise not to flinch.

Right now I’m reading a good book called Crush It!: Why NOW Is the Time to Cash In on Your Passion by Gary Vaynerchuk. As you may infer he advocates pursuing one’s passion. Arguably I do that in my professional writing. For online, here are some of the areas I’m passionate about:

• Writing.
• What I’m currently writing.
• Encouraging others to write.
• The craft of writing.
• The How of Writing
• Electronic publishing.
• Helping creators promote and sell their own work.
• My friends.
• My friends’ writing (and other creative projects.)
• Dinosaurs!
• Walking.
• Birding.
• Emma.
• My other critters, TJ and Squeak Kitty.
• Square-foot gardening (sadly neglected this year due to the famed Circumstances Beyond My Control)
• History.
• The pursuit of happiness.
• Personal development.
• What I’m reading/watching. [Added 7-2-10 12:47 PM]
• La Vida Low-Starch and nutrition for diabetics. [Added 7-2-10 12:52 PM]
• A semi-regular feature called Firearms for Fictioneers. Because too many of my brethren and sistren in the fiction-writing game write way above their knowledge levels on the subject, frankly, and it’s a freakin’ embarrassment. [Added 7-2-10 12:49 PM]

There are certain other subjects that, if you know me, you know I can get pretty hoppy about: politics, current events, and what we might call survival-related topics. For various reasons I won’t get into (and in fact feel passionately about themselves), I won’t write about them here. If you’re interested in my views on freedom and politics (why?) you can check out my Tragic Waste blog, which I keep for times I can’t help myself. I also rant occasionally on Twitter, as oughtn’t.

(As for “survival” issues – we may get to those. Probably not here, though. Yet another blog? Or slam it up on TW?)

Regarding topics for this blog, I’ve gotten sound suggestions from people in the past. Some friends read it to keep up on what’s happening in my life. Some good people mention that they follow the blog for the latest adventures of Emma Dog.

Some of my wise friends want me to concentrate on writing: the business, the craft, what I’m writing now, behind-the-scenes looks at how I do that thing I do. Fair enough – and there’s a limit to how much of that I feel I can do.

Also, well, that’s a lot like work too.

I’ll also admit I’m yet to feel comfortable talking too much about actual stories I’m writing. That may be a holdover habit from my fear of asking for help, even when I need it – a habit therefore in need of breaking. Sometimes I find it helps me to talk out when I find myself perplexed about which way to go or how to handle something.

Anyway: there you have some of the things it occurs to me to blog about.

What should I do more of? What less? What aren’t you interested in at all? What would you like to see me cover that isn’t mentioned above at all?

I plan, quite soon, to institute video blogs, as well as podcasts. I’m thinking of recording me reading some of my older stories, just for grins, throw the MP3s online (for free, yes), see how that plays.

One cogent suggestion holds that my video blog should cover dinosaur news. Now, it’s true that for animals that have been dead for 65 millions years (except for, well, birds) they generate a lot of news items today. Blame Science. There’re always new discoveries of bone-beds, news species, new and more complete skeletons of known species. There’re also constant advances being made in applying new scientific techniques to the paleontological evidence. And there are always new theories being floated, some seeming solid, some just gas, IMNSFHO. So, yeah, a surprising amount of news about the damned things drops in my box over the course of a week.

Plus I have a nifty webcam built-into EEEowyn, the very netbook I’m typing this on – the one I use for all my writing, pretty much, especially now my notebook is on the blink and my desktop awaits my chunking in a new power supply.

And, yes, I have … toy dinosaurs. I’ve used them in my readings, with good results and bad. I in fact use them extensively in choreographing my hot dino-on-dino (and dino-on-human, and especially dino-on-human-on-dino, as in riding) action. They will undoubtedly come into prominent play if when I start my dino video blogs.

Then again, I’m not a paleontologist. I’m just some guy who never outgrew his mad childhood crush on dinosaurs, and sees no reason to try at this late date. And who’s, well, writing a game-changing high fantasy novel about dinosaurs; there’s that.

Does anyone want to watch me bubble and blab about extinct life-forms? Hear my half-vast opinions on the latest and greatest theories about what they were and why they aren’t? Want to hear me bring the latest news of cool news species found – or coolness uncovered a bout the species we all know and love?

I want your suggestions. On everything I’ve mentioned.

Please. Hit me with your best shot.

And as always – thanks for reading!

And … my anti-perfectionism meter just ticked over. Screw it: publish it now!

I can use the exposure, Gods know. As Cory Doctorow says, a writer’s worst enemy is obscurity, not piracy. And amply obscure am I.

Notwithstanding there are actually some of you kind enough to read this damned thing.  Some people who for their own good reasons will never comment here even read it to keep abreast of events in my life, I happen to know.

Thanks for caring. Seriously.

The problem I have with blogging is the same thing that drove me out of role-playing games: the muscles I use to blog are about the same as I use to write my fiction. You know, the stuff I get paid for.

And there’s the time thing, of course. There’s always time. Or maybe, there’s always not time.

And that old devil perfectionism always seems to get a claw in. I’m forever  looking for the ideal picture, the cute caption (and mouseover! Do not neglect the mouseovers!) Forever trying to make sure everything’s worded just right.

So I find myself burning too much time and energy when I blog. Hence not blogging enough. So, screw perfectionism. From now on I’ll be content to leave my posts here imperf

An old favorite: Flight Commander Raymond Collishaw's Sopwith Triplane, "Black Maria."

I wasn’t real good at it. I was careful, and managed not to smear too many windscreens with glue – always the bane of my model-building life. My painting of them met indifferent success, especially when I tried to do the multi-color “lozenge” camouflage used on later German planes. But I did my best, and had a wonderful time, and loved them all.

Sadly they didn’t survive the years and the moves. No real surprise. Really, it would’ve required a preservation effort far beyond my means and even inclination to keep them intact.

… I originally wrote most of this post as a response to the comment thread on In which I make myself feel old. You might want to hit the link and go check it out to get up to speed. It’s not that hard; in a World War I airplane you were lucky if you could get up to 100 miles per hour in the early years.

In passing, I note that getting old seems to be a popular topic, judging by the number of comments it’s educed. On the other hand, at this point I actually am well and truly qualified to pass the judgement that it does indeed beat the alternative.

So anyway … at various points over the years I thought of getting back into model building. But my attempts proved abortive, and anyway you (or at least I) could never again find models of most of the planes. You could, and maybe still can, find models of the most famous ones – such as the Fokker Triplane and the Sopwith Camel. But not many others.

The Guess Who were my favorite band as a kid. I didn’t really appreciate Led Zeppelin until college; I still like both bands quite a lot. The Conan novels (with the beyond awesome covers by the now-late but ever-great Frank Frazetta) I started devouring about the time I got to high school.

The other night, having read Harvey’s comment earlier, I was driving home late at night and reminiscing about my WWI Airplane Summer. I got sad – feeling I’d failed somehow. An altogether too familiar sensation for me. Then I realized: it was okay to feel nostalgia, and a sense of lost, for my colorful plastic treasures and the innocent child I was. But I didn’t fail. I had fun. That was the goal, truly, and that’s what I should most recall.

Rumors of my death are scarcely exaggerated.

Three weeks ago my best friend Joe once again proved himself by taking me at 6 AM (fortunately he’s an early riser) to the emergency room. I had violent pains in the right side of my chest and back, couldn’t sleep. And, oh yeah, was literally on the verge of suffocating.

First I learned I had diabetes (it was a happy, happy day.) Then I found out I had brutal pneumonia.

Tried hard to do, Was rejected. Got stuff to do, it seems. I learn that nothing seems beyond recovery. Diet and exercise are key to most elements; huge surprise.

To help, I dropped around 50 pounds in the hospital – my wait had ballooned near 270; it’s now 227. An effective plan. It will never be popular.

Got sprung today. Was time.  Returned home to find a posse of awesome friends awaiting me – part of a crew who had purged, cleaned, and literally remodeled my house in my absence.

I stand in awe, gratitude, and love. My friends bless and honor me.

As do many who have sent gifts and well-wishes.  Thanks so much to all. It helps me heal.

Apologies to those whom I alarmed when I dropped off the face of the Earth. I seriously almost did. My core support here were rightly concerned about my appearing on one of those ComeRobMe websites. So they kept it quiet. I contacted a few people, many way late; I was in little shape to communicate. And unfortunately not all my friends connect to one another.

Adding complications, it took me until last week to find out how to get online at the hospital. Never did get email. So my inboxes groan at the moment.

Not gonna edit this. Wasted and joyous, and also in a bit of pain, which will pass.

Thanks again. I love you all.