Posts Tagged look at me
Please visit my all-creativity blog, I’m Also a Novelist, to see my new urban fantasy cover! If you’re not following IAAN, why not?
If you’ve been following this blog for the fiction, please go visit my new site, I’m Also a Novelist. You’ll get all the creativity and none of the leftist heathen posturing. (Except for the extent to which my fiction is full of leftist heathen posturing, so…the more things change.)
I’m working on another video. It won’t be ready tonight, but it’s in process.
The weekend was fun because I put together some shiny things to go with Book 4. For example, I set up a new soundtrack at Grooveshark.
I have recently discovered Haiku Deck, so this happened:
October 10th marks the anniversary of the day that the Monster made the transition from “stubborn breech fetal Monster” to “squirming, colicky Monster.” It is almost the first anniversary of the day(s) that I first published Charlinder’s Walk, but it is still the first birthday for me since I’ve had a book to show off. So! If you enjoy my blog, and you want to wish me Happy Birthday?
(No, I’m not going to ask you to buy my book. Unless it looks like something you’d enjoy!)
You can TELL YOUR FRIENDS about my book!
Help a Monster out on her birthday, and share one (or more) of these links!
And just for good measure, here’s the cover:
For those of you who either haven’t joined the Twitter Borg or were otherwise occupied while I sat on my yoga ball with a laptop and answered Novel Publicity’s questions, here is the full transcript.
Since Gov. O’Malley signed the marriage equality bill into law last night, I joined a bunch of my friends for a little celebratory get-together at our local cafe, and while we were there, Greenbelt 2012 came to get our thoughts on the matter. What happened was, I got off the bus, went straight to the cafe, and sat down with my fellow queer Greenbelters over a beer and some baba ghanoush. After I’d pounded the beer and enjoyed some laughs with my peeps, Eric, armed with his suped-up camera and digital recorder, found me and asked if I’d answer some questions. And I was all like, “Yeah! I will totally answer your questions!” So he held up the recorder and I gave him my thoughts on civil unions, religious freedom, voter referenda and joining the 21st century. He doesn’t quote my answer about religious organizations that offer adoption services, but my thoughts were basically: you get public funding for your charitable organization, you follow the public’s rules. You do without the public funding, then you can follow your own rules.
He also took some surprisingly good-looking pictures. That first one is of your blogger.
Among people who have to see me IRL on a regular basis, I am somewhat known for making and wearing cardigans from a wide variety of unrelated yarns, mostly my handspun. My basic approach to knitting is, or has been up until fairly recently, that any project can be a stash-busting project, but now I’m growing tired of that esthetic. It looks fabulous from a distance, but up close it’s a hot mess. I like knitting with my handspun, but I don’t like wearing sweaters made from dozens of odds and ends. I want to wear something in fall weather and air-conditioned offices that shows some design cohesion and structural integrity. Since I don’t currently have enough of any one make/model of yarn (for lack of better terminology) in my current stash, I went browsing around at a retailer that’s sold me decent product before, and found something promising.
Tonight, I did a little Googling for yardage requirements, put together a nice set of three blue/greens in ColorSchemer Studio, and ordered a heap of yarn. And then some new needles to use with it. My only request for shipping was “not from UPS.”
In my defense, the yarn is almost jaw-droppingly cheap for the fiber content. 100% wool, at $2.69 for 50g? That’s a steal.
I’m sure this qualifies as “First World Problems,” but the thing is, I was born in the First World and I don’t really have any usable prospects of living anywhere else. My family is here, my job is here, and accordingly, my residence is here.
My residence is the problem.
Here is the passage I read at the Poetry & Prose Open Mic at The Writer’s Center today. Charlinder is losing sleep and his options for transportation are sorely limited. These two ideas are not unrelated.
Late in Chapter 6…
He, too, was part of the problem. He could hardly fault his friends for shrinking away from the debate, when he himself always found it easier to shut the discussion down than to engage. Now he wanted to engage, but not if it meant he’d be alone. He needed to do something. It was his responsibility as a teacher to offer his students the truth, but the best he could give them in some subjects was gathered from materials created over a hundred-twenty years before. What else did he have, though? Did anyone have anything better since the Plague had brought about the end of previously known life?