Getting ready for another odyssey.

We're packing. We're arranging. We're phoning. We're confirming. We're re-confirming. We're emailing. We're hoping earnestly that things go all right (civil unrest in Thailand is proving to be a major source of anxiety, for example, as it's one of the places on our hugely complicated itinerary). We're preparing to conduct a two-month experiment in how we can continue our professional lives while living out of backpacks and duffle bags.

The house-sitter has been briefed. The amount of perishable food in the house is diminishing. The TimTams (as gifts for people we're staying with) have been bought and packed into plastic boxes to minimize the potential tragedy of broken TimTams. (Every broken TimTam is a broken heart. You knew that, of course.) The Fantales have been purchased for my mom; she loves Fantales, and why not?

I love to travel. But I hate change and disruption. I love to have new experiences and see new places. I love seeing my family and friends again. But I'm essentially introverted (not shy, exactly, just...fond of quiet and solitude). I love food, but I'm not nearly adventurous enough about it. And, in particular, I get very antsy indeed when the logistics of my fate are in others' hands. Preparing for major journeys is, as you can guess, a very stressful time for me.

Life is full of interesting discoveries.

Okay, make a batch of cornbread (lots of recipes here), and if you're feeling really extravagant, chuck a bunch of blueberries in. Fresh or frozen, either will do. (I recommend feeling extravagant, because the blueberries are sort of the point of this post.) Make a double batch of cornbread, in fact, because you'll want to eat a bunch of it with vegetable soup or chili, and you'll still need some left over for what is to come.

Go and buy a roasting chicken, one that isn't roasted yet, I mean. Chop up an onion very finely and fry in about 150 grams of butter until it's soft. Add a teaspoon of powdered/rubbed sage and about a half teaspoon of salt. Then crumble up the other half of the cornbread (the half you didn't eat before) into the butter-and-onions until everything's mixed up. Stuff the chicken with as much of the stuffing as it will hold; reheat any left in the pan so that there is no chance at all of raw-chicken germs having survived from getting in there as you scooped stuffing into the chicken. Set the extra stuffing aside until you've roasted the chicken. (I won't go into how you know if it's done; that sort of thing is all OVER the Net. Me, I use a meat thermometer.) Tonight I roasted my chicken on top of a layer of cut-up sweet-potato chunks and red pepper/capsicum sprinkled with a little salt and pepper. I did not season the chicken at all except for the stuffing.

When the chicken is done, scoop the stuffing back out and mix it with the extra stuffing. Eat lots of chicken, veggies, and wonderful cornbread stuffing.

Oh, I've had cornbread stuffing before; I've even made cornbread stuffing before. The discovery is in how wonderful the blueberries, onion, and a little bit of sage make the stuffing taste. It is one of the great tragedies of my life that blueberries are really extraordinarily expensive, particularly in winter, particularly in Australia. But once in a while, I must have them....

Momentum!

I'm back up to having six pieces out to various markets. I like to keep at least a half-dozen out in the world seeking their fortune at any one time, but I've been remiss. Today, though, with the sendout of a 10-minute play, I now have six pieces out. I'd like to spend the rest of the year building that up to nine or ten out at a time — after all, they're definitely not going to win me any fame or fortune sitting in my computer.

Send, Laura, send! Write and send! Send some more! Ignore the apprehension, ignore the Writing Demons! Better yet, seize the claws of the Writing Demons and dance with them in a giddy circle to The Gypsy Kings until the Demons drop in an exhausted heap and can do you no more harm!

I don't think I've ever made three posts in a single day before, but...

...you had to see this. I got it from, as usual, my friend Jasoni, who wonders after viewing it why everyone thinks it's so hard to be a writer.

And in other arts-related news....

A production of A Midsummer Night's Dream you might find interesting

Wollongong Workshop Theatre, the lovely folks who've put on a couple of my short plays, is working with Altogether Drama, a group for actors with a disability, to put on a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream here in Wollongong. This production has a number of really intriguing aspects: the cast is mixed: actors with and without disabilities in lead roles, chorus roles, comic roles. The script has been adapted to reflect a distinctly Australian feel; the set design as well suggests Australia. And there is original music by composer Houston Dunleavy.

My buddy Lajos is directing the production, and he's begun a blog about the process. If you're interested in local theatre, access to the arts, disability issues, government-supported arts, and/or Shakespeare, why not follow the fortunes of this daring troupe?

Jasoni goes from strength to strength.

Another brilliant little gem from my mate Jasoni. This one is particularly notable for its fabulous use of language — very brave and very well done, my friend!

I am horrified.

I've been training in tae kwon do (mainly at my beloved and much-missed school, the DC Self Defense Karate Association) for over 20 years now. I take it quite seriously — not because I'm an Olympic-level athlete or anything, but because I've learned so much from it. Yes, fitness, strength, and some badly needed coordination, but also focus, a thirst for perfection, a much higher tolerance for detail work, teaching skills, leadership skills, self-acceptance — I could go on and on. That's what tae kwon do has given me.

Imagine, then, my shame to see that someone, ostensibly a tae kwon do black belt, actually hauled off and kicked a referee in the face when a decision went against him. He has dishonored us all.

One of the most valuable aspects of tae kwon do (one, just to be clear, that it shares with many other martial arts) is its emphasis on courtesy. Whether or not you feel comfortable within hierarchies, I don't think you could deny the value of courtesy to everyone. For some reason, this guy's flouted his teaching, or his teachers have failed him. Or both. And he has used the strength, skill, and focus he got from tae kwon do to lash out in spite and egotistical rage and damage someone whom all his training should have taught him to respect.

The sooner tae kwon do is removed from the Olympic games and returns from being a sport to being an art, the better.

A surprisingly interesting read

I hadn't been expecting to find Boccaccio's Decameron to be a book that's hard to put down. But so it is. Not so much because the stories are particularly riveting as stories — by today's standards, they're mostly kind of lame, very moralistic, and rather predictable. But as a window into medieval life and thought, they are absolutely riveting. What do the characters value? What do they think about the events in the stories? Who are the villains, who the heroes, and why? What do they eat and drink? Where do they sleep? What do they wear? How do people of different classes relate to each other, and what does that reveal about the attitudes that pervaded society so deeply that they were not even questioned by the characters, let alone the readers?

And beyond that, there are the technical questions about the stories themselves: why is a given conflict resolved in this way, or that way, or not resolved at all? Why do some characters have an active role and others merely a reactive? What is the structure of the conflict: where does it peak in the course of the story, and when it's resolved, what kind of conclusion or closure is there for the characters? Why does a story so often end with what we'd call a deus-ex-machina ending, and why was this considered a satisfying ending then, but not now?

I'm quite enjoying the Decameron, and I recommend it as a fascinating reading adventure. Also useful for those interested in building medieval-based worlds for their own work....

Well, I didn't see this coming.

My story "Mooncalf" (my first post-Clarion story, as I recall) has received a "Commended" award in the Katharine Susannah Prichard Writers' Centre Speculative Fiction/Fantasy Awards 2008. Apparently there were over a hundred entries, and my "Commended" means mine was in the top seven. This is cool. The judge's report is here. (Yes, alert readers may notice that the contest was judged by Lee Battersby, who is a friend of mine, but the entries were read blind — for those who don't know the term, that means no names on the stories. So all is well.)

A bit of encouragement is always nice! (I guess I should keep trying to sell the story. It's been rejected by a few markets, but perhaps persistence is warranted in this case.)

In other encouragement news, "I'm Too Loud" came second in the "vote for this story" thing that Antipodean SF runs each month for its stories. It's still readable in the archive. If you're one of the ones who voted for it, many thanks!

And, in Bigfoot-related news....

Go look. That's all I'm saying. (Found on boingboing.net.)

Steampunk? Did someone say...steampunk??

Perhaps it was the general atmosphere of the place, or the preponderance of 'unnatural' elements that had plagued this quest, but I was more than a bit anxious as I stepped out onto the upper deck....


I absolutely love, love, love Victorian adventure fiction. I love science fiction. I love clever mashups. I love satire and self-parody. I love good photography. That's why I am completely enraptured by the steampunk extravaganza Professor Fumolatro and The Veritas League, put together by my friend Larry and his esteemed colleagues. It's a photo-novel, and it's gorgeous, and complex, and very funny.

The link I've posted takes you to the oldest photos in the Flickr set that comprises the novel. Start at the last one and read forward. A tip from me: while you must read the photo captions and the comments to follow the story, don't worry about all the hyperlinks embedded in each entry as you go. You can come back and sweep them up later. Just go with the main story, enjoy it, and only then go back for another look at all the rich layering and world-building they've done.

Yet another story by Jason Fischer

It's getting harder and harder to keep up with, and blog about, all the publishing successes of my Clarion buddies. One of the most prolific, Jason Fischer, has yet another story up at The Daily Cabal; read it here. (It's a little disorienting at first — trust him. He knows what he's doing.)

Geek sports

How come the Olympics coverage has so little of the sports I love: archery, martial arts, equestrian, fencing? Apparently SBS did show some archery, but I missed it because I was at State Emergency Service training. At the moment, at least, I get to watch kayak slalom, so that's okay.

I have a head cold, which limits my own participation in sports to observation only at the moment. It also makes it a little hard to focus on writing. Plus, Houston is out of town this week doing Composer Things, so there is lots and lots and lots to do around the house and around town: tires for the car, taking Margaret and her saxophone and her cupcakes for the bake sale into school, returning the car seat and crib rented and borrowed (respectively) for our recent visitors, grocery shopping, etc. etc. How come a house where there are two people requires more running around to manage than a house where there are three people? At least as many dishes to do, for example. Nearly as much laundry. The same amount of cooking. The lawn still needs to be mowed.

I must compel myself to let some of these things go so that I may get some writing done. Those zombies won't write about themselves, you know!

Some cool art, and an interesting discussion

The cool art is here. Each graphic takes a bit of time to load, but they're so fantabulous it's worth the wait. I've emailed their agents to see if I can post one of them here; meanwhile, please go look! The agents have granted me permission to post one — good on 'em!



If you like this one (and how could you not?), go check out some of the others! (Note: found via boingboing.)

The interesting discussion is on Justine Larbalestier's blog. In aftermath of the wildly anticipated last Twilight book, it's a thorough going-over of the old question: do writers write for themselves, or for their readers? (My own point of view is contained in one of the earlier comments.)

Another Clarion buddy's story, and something I really hope I get a chance to see on our upcoming trip

First, the Clarion buddy's story: Lyn Battersby's Lily's Song. I find Lyn's stories very poignant, in a way I never quite manage. I suppose it's good we all write differently! (I certainly don't write like my friend Jasoni, who's a madman of the pen, a madman, I tell you.)

And the thing I really want to see: the San Francisco Cable Car Museum. Really, who wouldn't? The technology is just a step away from steampunk (and, indeed, it was originally steam-driven). It's beautifully straightforward and no-nonsense. It's aesthetically gorgeous, both above ground and under. And it's in San Francisco, one of the best places for writers on the entire planet. Since I'm plugging their establishment, I'm sure they won't mind if I nick a few photos from their site to show you:

A writing day

You'd think, wouldn't you, that I'd have a writing day every day. But no, it doesn't work out like that as often as it should. Part of that is the ease with which I let myself get distracted, part of it is the many obligations I've taken on over the years, which I'm conscientiously (albeit slowly) cutting back on. Be that as it may, today I was pretty much confined to the house all day, because my husband needed the car for his own work (artistry knows no weekends). (I'd like to be able to say, "I didn't even make it to church today," but because I seldom make it to church these days, that would be a despicable bit of posturing.)

Anyway, so: I spent a lot of time revising another big chunk of Mud and Glass, and I looked in at intervals on the Conflux Virtual Mini-Con (you can go there anytime you like and read the messages, as far as I know, and there are some interesting guests and insights). I'm sick to the back teeth of Mud and Glass, and the Virtual Mini-Con is nearly over, so while I'm waiting for Doctor Who to come on, I'll maybe work a little on a new piece: a zombie story. I never thought I'd write a zombie story, but anything that stretches my own perceptions of what I can do as a writer has got to be a valuable exercise.

I am not ashamed!

NaNoWriMo is just a few short months away — November, in case you're not familiar with the concept. And if you're really not familiar with the concept, in brief it is this: 30 days, 50,000 words of a brand-new novel. No fair working on an already-begun novel. No fair writing non-fiction.

But what's it for? "Surely," say some, "you don't expect to get something publishable out of it." In fact, I sort of do. Last year's NaNo opus, on which I've already gotten some good feedback, is currently in the revising stage, and I'll start querying agents on it soon. The play I wrote for this year's similar effort for scripts, Script Frenzy, has already received a script-development grant from a major regional (professional) theatre organization here in Australia. It is possible to produce material during NaNoWriMo or Script Frenzy that can be polished into something good. However, that's not really the main point for me.

I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year (my second) for a bunch of reasons. First, I'm revoltingly lazy and definitely do not work up to my potential unless I have a deadline. It does not matter whether that deadline is real or a game. Second, I like to know that I have it within myself to do difficult things. Yes, yes, I know I already proved last year that I could be a NaNoWriMo winner (that is, get the 50,000 words written in the 30 days, not actually win over someone else), so why do I need to prove it again? Because winning twice is even harder than winning once, is why. And finally, there's a tremendous buzz in being part of an enormous global community of anxious, whimpering writers all sweating and straining to do something crucial for each of us: write. It's fun to encourage each other. It's energizing to validate each others' writing obsessions, and to be validated. Maybe the resulting writing is art, maybe it isn't. But there's glory in it, and madness, and exhilaration. What's not to like?

You could do NaNo this year, too -- there's plenty of time to register on the site, clear away your November extracurriculars (or at least trim them back to bare minimum), buy your notebooks or memory sticks or parchment scrolls, and get yourself at least a vague idea of what you'll be starting on November 1. Join us, join us....

Yesterday's Writer Adventure™ and other miscellany

Last night the Illawarra Performance Writers' Group was kind enough to do a reading of the entire text of The Death of Albatross. The timing on the script is just about perfect (about an hour and a half of straight reading, no staging, no intermission), which is one of my worries about it resolved. Some of the jokes worked, some of them didn't. Everyone had a different idea on the best way to "fix" the script, which was a bit maddening, but at least I had my Clarion experience to teach me how to stand firm against the chaotic buffets of opinion, take my notes, and choose among the suggestions later. And I did get some extremely useful feedback (including some effusive praise as well, which is always nice). All this information will inform, as they say, the script-development process (now scheduled for the beginning of 2009).

In other arts-related news, you can read here about a poetry project that makes me feel decidedly ambivalent. They've got these pigeons, see, racing pigeons, and they tie pieces of paper with poems on them — specially commissioned poems — to the pigeons' legs, and they set them loose, and people can "bet" (no money is involved) on which pigeon arrives back at the loft first. This, says the web site, is intended "to create quality Australian poems and broaden the public’s definition of and engagement with the form." Is this an endeavor with genuine artistic merit? Or is it, perhaps, a bit of a wank designed to nab a nice chunk of grant money? That is ultimately a subjective judgment, but my subjective gut says "Gah!"

And finally, a small triumph. When I first set up this blog, I fiddled with the html in the template to give it a bit of a distinctive look (changing the colors, mainly, but still, it's just that little bit different from other blogs using this template). Somehow, during that process, I seem to have broken the code that let you click on the title of a blog post to get to the permalink. I've borne it, as it's not the most important thing in my life (or even, for that matter, in my blog), but this morning I had a little bit of spare time, so I spent it fiddling with the html some more. And I managed to fix whatever it was I'd done before, and even fine-tune the heading colors and stuff. So I'm very proud of my personal geekdom, modest though it is by world standards. (Of course, that having been said, if you test it and find out I was too sanguine, please don't hesitate to let me know, and I'll try and fix the fix.)