Investigator Lexus Toulouse
“Your husband is an unmitigated pain in the ass,” Mitchell said as soon as I took the call.
I would have sighed and banged my head on my desk, repeatedly, except for the fact this was full video and that I was working on dissembled explosives. Separated, the stuff that goes boom was inert, but still, banging your head on decade old chemicals was usually a bad idea.
Mitchell is one of those men who have a long fuse to a big bang, so I give him the once over after turning down the magnification on my work glasses.
Scrunched shoulders. Frown. One hand tapping a stylus. Eyes that simultaneously said “kiss me now” and “you are pissing me off”.
Oh yeah, he was about to burst, and part—okay most—of it was my fault. The last time we were in bed together I was so exhausted from fieldwork that I actually fell asleep while he was, you know, well never mind.
“Sweetheart, which husband is that?”
“Bill. Can we divorce him, please?”
I actually laugh, and then feel bad because I am laughing while he is miffed. Mitch gives me a weak smile though. Divorcing Bill was a long running joke in the family—even Bill uses it.
Bill is the junior husband, and is very assertive. Which is why we all married him but still, he gets on the other three’s nerves and I am the ‘neutral’ party usually assigned to broker a deal, or prevent bloodshed.
“I’m sorry Husband One, but I am very fond of Husband Four. He’s, um, rich, and has this girth thing going for him.”
“God, you are so predictable. And why is it you always bring that up when we talk about him, anyway? Trying to make me jealous?”
Okay, this conversation is going somewhere, finally. I have Mitch pegged. He is lonely, which is my fault. And also the fault of Husband Two and Three. They took the two dogs while going fishing. I should have seen it coming but I have been busy with this stupid bomb, which may be part of a run off the same line. The same type of bomb used for a bit of industrial sabotage. The client was paying me many credits to nail who did it, so it has been work work work. Plus, someone using war shit for their own gain just pisses me off. It was personal.
Bill, being a pain in the ass, was still just a symptom.
“I always use intimate little details when talking about other husbands to put you all in your place.”
Mitch cocked an eyebrow. “Eh? What do you say about me?”
“I refer to you as ‘He who stole my virginity at a tender age’, which usually is very distracting to the others.”
Mitch is fighting the smile but it finally comes out. Then he chuckles.
“Ha. Anyway, Bill wants my next day on the calendar.”
“Well you told him no, didn’t you?” Bill should know better. I let them broker calendar dates amongst themselves, but everyone knows I botched my last day with Mitch.
“No, actually I was calling to tell you that I said yes.”
“What? But I miss you. I wanted to be with you!”
“Sorry. He had a convincing argument.”
Oh my God.
“This wasn’t a trade, was it? Please tell me he did not bribe you with credits.”
Now Mitchell was grinning ear-to-ear. “Yes, he did.”
“Mitchell Jameson Toulouse! And how much was I worth?”
“500.”
“Mitchell!”
Mitchell laughs. “Sorry, Honey, but it’s your own fault. There is only so much Lexus Pie to go around and I don’t like mine falling asleep.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
“Oh it’s the ‘fine’, is it now?” He crosses his arms.
“You’re mean. You know this case is important. You know how much war shit bugs me. And here I was going to offer to meet you in my office!”
His eyes go wide. “Really?”
“Well forget it.”
“No way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Forget it.”
“I’ll give you the 500 cred.”
“MITCHELL! I am not the family whore!”
“I’m coming over there. You will be naked by the time I get through the door. You will take the credits. Are we clear on this, Lieutenant?”
I snort. Mitchell was never in the military. I do not even think he knows what a Lieutenant grade actually is. “Or what?”
“Or I will call Bill back and tell him he can have the second day too. And for what he is planning, you’ll regret the four days of Bill Time.” Mitchell was grinning again, and this time it was all predatory.
“What?! What does he have planned?” This did not sound good, not good at all.
“Leaving now.” He stabbed a button and the video went off.
“Ahhhhhhhhh!” I actually scream. It does not make me feel better. Why why why, why did I get married at all, much less four times? I have no one to blame but myself.
Well, this bomb was not going to go anywhere. I carefully lock away all the parts, snap my sidearm to the side of my desk, take off my clothes and lie on top of the workbench, staring at the ceiling.
It only took him eight minutes to get to my office, which was impressive; as was the speed of which he peeled out of his own clothes. I start to giggle and he jumps on me, kissing me, putting his hands on me.
I do not fall asleep. If Mitch was annoyed with me, he sure does not show it. His passion consumes me and soon I am mindless.
And I wind up taking the credits when he points out I can use them to buy Bill something nice. Fine.
***
“You have a priority call on line three,” Bob, my office comp, tells me sweetly. It wakes me up instantly, but Mitch just grunts and snuggles closer.
“Privacy audio only, connect.” Mitch does not need to know work details. Line three was official Investigation business.
“LT, this is Scott.”
Uh. Scott. Scott is a Constitutional Enforcement Officer. This call will not end well.
“What up, Scott?”
“Kaliston.” Bob is listening, of course, and instantly puts up a map of Washington on the ceiling. Kaliston is in central Washington, in the middle of nowhere, not even close to I-90. Nothing but desert and wheat fields.
“Double homicide,” Scott adds. “A mother and her daughter.”
Now it was my turn to grunt. “Why me?” Anyone who knows anything about Investigators knows I do not advertise for homicide. I saw enough dead bodies in the war, and the Reaffirmation. And Scott knows everything. Maybe literally.
“You’re the best LT, and my field comp got a flag from your agency on this one.”
I can feel the blood running away from my face, the room grows cold.
“Were they found tied together, facing each other?”
“Yes.”
“I’m taking a hopper. I’ll be there soon.”
“Got it.” Scott disconnected. Only a CEO would be un-frazzled by an Investigator use of an orbital hopper. Actually, nothing usually bothers Scott; he has the emotions of a work bot, but I could hear it in his voice. This bothered him.
As it should.
I get up, pushing Mitch off. But I feel dizzy. Mitch says “Hey!” and stands up, grumpy that I interrupted his post-euphoric nap by pushing him off the workbench.
“Mitch, can you hand me that wastebasket?”
Mitch nods seriously and hands it to me. He really is a sweet guy, really he is.
I promptly throw up my lunch.
No
As the end of editing Bunny Trouble approaches and I work on finishing the nail-biting query letter that I have been working on forever, my thoughts turn to finding an agent.
Sometimes people ask me what I like to do and beyond “harassing the Wife Unit and Playing with the Kids”, I mention I like to write. Eventually it comes out that I have written two novels and am on my third. This raises eyebrows.
Blessed with wonderful friends and polite acquaintances, I have yet to run into anybody who thinks that is a waste of time or stupid. I do get people who want to know, in detail, the plot of my novels. Yeah, that is no-go area for me other than a very small group of people. My literary bathing-suit area, if you will. Sorry, you are just going to have to wait for it.
Or get me drunk. I do mention my blog. A regular reader will be able to ferret out major themes.
A repeated question thrown my way is “Are you going to self-publish?”
With no hesitation, my answer is no.
I have studied self-publication at length, along with the traditional route of getting an agent.
With an agent, I am responsible for:
- Writing a great novel
- Squealing like a little girl when landing an agent
- Not being a dick
- Squealing like a little girl when landing a publisher
- Revisions
- Not embarrassing my agent when talking to my editor
- Collect check
- Massive self-promotion
- Squealing like a little girl when seeing my book on a bookstore shelf
- Hopefully, collect more checks
- Not being a dick
Self-Publishing:
- Write… something.
- Owning the entire editing process end-to-end
- Owning the entire self-publishing process end-to-end
- Collect a minuscule check
- Massive self-promotion
- Collect larger check… maybe.
Frankly, self-publishing is a waste of my time. It worked for Larry Correia, but it will not work for me. Larry’s goals are different. Furthermore, Larry totally owns the sub-genre he carved for himself. Larry is the master of the B-Movie Urban Fantasy Novel. Just call him King Larry.
I’ll just leave out the fact that Larry is probably more talented than me, heh heh heh.
Owning the entire self-publishing process end-to-end is an enormous time sync that I could spend writing. With a full time job, my writing time is precious. It is blood. It is the wine that I must drink daily. There is no other option. Fifteen percent to an agent in exchange for my writing time is gold. Money is the side effect. I need the validation. I crave it. I must have it.
I have no illusions that finding an agent could be a long, onerous process. As an isolated writer, the thought of someone working with me for that fifteen percent sounds like a small slice of paradise.
I choose the long, onerous process with the light at the end of the tunnel! At the end of the day, it comes down to this:
At no point in self-publishing would I squeal like a little girl.
Sunday Reflections, 15
“The very concept of history implies the scholar and the reader. Without a generation of civilized people to study history, to preserve its records, to absorb its lessons and relate them to its own problems, history, too, would lose its meaning.”
This day eleven years ago
There I was, dragged, dragged I say to the movie theater to see what would possibly be the chick flicks to end all check flicks. Titanic. The Wife Unit insisted on seeing the movie (when we still went out for movies), and so there we were.
At the time I was sitting there thinking “this has got to be the most retarded movie idea ever”. So, as the lights dim, I lean over to my wife and say, none to quietly,
“Hey, guess what?”
“What?” she asks.
“The ship sinks.”
Oh man I had the wit back then let me tell you.
Three things happen:
The two tweeners in front of us turn to me and I swear shoot TWEENER NINJA EYE DAGGERS (TNED) at me. You would think these maybe-pubescent girls would not know the infamous Female Glare of Doom yet, but I swear I squirmed in my seat and vaguely wondered for my safety. As they turned back, I crossed myself.
Then from behind me a guy (and a complete stranger no less), totally loses it. He starts laughing so hard I can’t help but turn and grin. He has tears streaming down his face. He wife/girlfriend/significant other/spousal equivalent turns in her seat and actually smacks him. TWACK. This shuts him up, and then she turns to me and gives me a look like “you’re next”. I wipe the grin off my face and turn back in my seat.
It’s the Wife Unit’s turn to glare, and LO I FEEL THE ICY ARMAGEDDON APPROACHETH (get it, icy, Titanic, iceberg… never mind). But then she says, raising her voice because some inane preview is on the screen,
“Be QUIET or I will COVER your eyes when they show Kate Winslet’s breasts.”
Well that got my attention.
“Uh, this movie has boobies?”
“Yes!”
“Kate Winslet’s breasts?”
(note even then one did not refer to Kate Winslet’s breasts as mere ‘boobs’)
“Yes! Now BE QUIET!”
Then from behind me I hear,
“Did that woman just say we get to see Kate Winslet’s breasts?”
Followed by a,
THWACK
Followed by the TWEENERS OF DOOM turning in their seats and going,
“Ssssshhhh!”
I am now watching this film with the utmost attention. And yes, the ship sinks.
The lights come on and I stand up because I believe my ears are going to bleed from the Celine Dion song. I turn to my partner in crime, the man behind me. I cannot contain my enthusiasm for this wonderful film. I cannot!
“I can’t belive we got to see Leonardo DiCaprio freeze to death!” I say.
“I can’t believe we got to see Kate Winslet TOTALLY NUDE, Dude!” he says.
We high-five each other, but simultaneously our body temperatures drop due to the combined ICY GLARES OF DOOM from four annoyed females who really really have to pee.
To this day, Best. Movie. Ever. Thus, when I think of that space between Christmas and New Years, I think of movie… magic.
Cracked Up to Be by Courtney Summers
This book review is for writers, specifically novelists. For general book reviews on Courtney Summers’ debut novel Cracked Up to Be, seek ye to Google. This review is spoiler free; the actual book jacket says Parker, the main character, made a bad mistake. And yes she did.
Let me warn you right now, this review starts with a tangent.
Here we go!
There is an old maxim in advanced situational training; specifically training for self-defense, firearms, law enforcement training and what have you. This is training that deals with the totality of a situation, where the dynamic flow of multiple inputs meets the processor, your brain:
“If you’re not making any mistakes, you’re not learning anything.”
Sounds simple, does it not? Simplicity aside, this is an advanced training concept. Those who push the envelope and place themselves in situations where failure is not only likely but also expected, learn a great deal. This training sharpens the mind and teaches a person how to apply one lesson learned to other things, not just their particular area of study.
It is effective because it works. If you are not making any mistakes, you are not learning anything.
Summers’ book is a keen study in this area. The plot of her book is this: Parker was a perfectionist. She carefully built a world of her choosing. You know the type—wound so tight that they snap under their own drive or reality intrudes on these people and breaks them.
And Parker is so very broken. As the book relentlessly marches along, one comes to realize, even before the revelation of what caused Parker to snap, that the real world did not just come and bite her on the ass, but ripped out chunks of her heart.
I have a minor quibble with Cracked Up to Be, but nothing that deters my glowing recommendation of this book for any teen, adults, writers and certainly novelists going after the young adult audience. As I have stated before, if you want Fair and Balanced, go watch mainstream news. Here, I am going to gush. If I do not feel like gushing, I leave the book off my review list (which, by the way, has ten books in the queue).
I hate to say it, but I would not have picked up this novel at the bookstore. Why? Because it falls into the section of the bookstore that houses a lot of crap written for girls—novels specifically tailored to entice girls to buy them because girls are a great source of book buying dollars. What makes those books crap?
They are so dishonest. They are preachy, pretentious and filled with fake angst that makes me want to puke. Teens who have sex die, get an STD, pregnant or are cast out from society (or all four!). Boys written to be either shining examples of people who do not exist, or are passive-aggressive abusers. Stereotypes and stilted dialog. Someone dies just so the main character can feel what it is like to experience grief. I could go on and on, but you get the idea. All the consequences of every single action are there for the author to preach.
I certainly stopped buying those books, and now secretly wonder where the writers who grew up with Judy Blume went. There are exceptions, but I will assert these exceptions are not exceptional.
Until now. For Cracked Up to Be is awesomesauce.
The fact that Summers’ book is going to be smooshed in that prior mentioned section just pisses me off, but I have been on a Young Adult pissy rant for like ten years now, so that is just part of who I am. Cracked Up to Be is a book so honest its hurts. That is a primary reason I recommend this book for anyone writing for the young adult market. I felt vaguely uncomfortable reading it. Parker’s hidden pain was on the same level with her mistake, and with the first-person point-of-view narration you are sharing that understated pain. Despite the fact that Parker was a total bitch, who either needed to be slapped or fucked silly (I could not decide which), I held a deep sympathy for her because Summers wrote her so raw and honest—it was heartbreaking.
“If you’re not making any mistakes, you’re not learning anything.” Does Parker learn from her mistake? Ah such a good question, not to be address here! Go read the book.
More unapologetic gushing follows.
Oh oh, oh, the voicing! Summers writing voice through her minimalist prose is relentlessly good, relentless because that is what Cracked Up to Be is. The unrelenting pacing and tension built bit-by-bit was awesome. The voicing and the pacing alone is worthy of study.
The voicing played well in other areas. Summers took me back to high school. There were no over-done descriptions. She assumed the reader remembered (or, actually was in) high school and just went from there. The lack of over-done and forced setting descriptions was a breath of fresh air. You could say I am in love with her voicing.
Novelists should also take a meta look at Cracked Up to Be. I first heard about the novel via Janet Reid’s blog, which pointed to Courtney’s blog. Her whimsical, playful entries, sometimes even silly, cracked me up. Give me silly over pretentiousness any day! I became a regular reader. When she posted the first two chapters of Cracked Up to Be, man I was hooked. Doomed. I had to have the book. Thus, I arrived at Cracked Up to Be via word of mouth through the great and mighty Interwebs. Fascinating stuff.
That Cracked Up to Be is a debut novel is awe inspiring. Her agent should be doing a little dance right about now. I await her next novel with joyful anticipation. More please!
Finally, Cracked Up to Be is a morality tale, accomplished without preaching, forced circumstances, one-dimensional characters or through a false reality. How did Summers do that? Why, she simply told an entertaining tale with believable circumstances through the eyes of an all-too-real main character. She wrote the world as it is, not what she wished it to be. She told the truth.
Stick that in your Young Adult novel writing pipe and smoke it. Please.
White Christmas… and books!
Just under two feet of snow.
Whew!
I got a slew of books this Christmas, which was great. My wife and I have yet to exchange gifts because we’ve been snowbound for OVER A WEEK. The kids, however, had a grand old time with their Wii. I’ve been around the block a couple of times to know it’s always a good idea to get the kids presents first, and worry about the other details later. Yanno, just is case something happens like two feet of snow when normally we get around two inches.
Meanwhile, the Christmas Roast is in the fridge, waiting for the thaw and the in-laws to arrive. Then we shall FEAST. FEAST I SAY!
I’ve been playing with the kids, napping (really, I took a nap), and reading all day. Right now I have just finished Courtney Summers’ Cracked Up to Be and found it a really marvelous teen book.
I’ll review Cracked Up to Be later this week. Truly, a debut novel dipped in awesomesauce. I was so caught up in the story I forgot to be in awe just how well it was written. It is that good.
Small writing update
Status: Consumed by my work in progress. 700 words here, 1200 there. Almost done with a major battle scene, and then the book goes all YA Fantasy!
And, since no one will indulge my current pixie craving, I’ll just have to do my own. Except these pixies, are, um, purple.
Have a very Merry Christmas!
And in strange eons, even Christmas may die.
Timmy looked out the window to where the neighbor kids were playing with their new ponies or flying around on rocket sleds. “You suck Grampa! Christmas killed my entire family, and I still get a friggin’ rock. I hate Christmas FOREVER!”
Grampa raised his fists to the sky and theatrically shouted, “NOOOOOOOO!” kind of like Darth Vader at the end of the last Star Wars movie, but without so much reverb. Then he died.
—Christmas Noun, by Larry Correia
Ramblings on the Bad Man
In The Baby Dancers, the current work in progress, there is a crucial battle scene where our heroes (Zeke and Josh), do battle with the forces of… what exactly?
To be honest, I do not know. Certainly I know all the motivations, and I have a clear ending for a the book. Indeed, unless I have the last chapter outlined in my head, I do not start working on a novel. I learned that one the hard way with Unfinished Book.
There are the protagonists, stuck in a bad situation, and all that remains is the journey to the end of the quest.
All in a good, fun story, of course. With no preaching!
There is nothing like a good old story about good vs. evil, but is that interesting in today’s world of complexity? Do young adult fantasy readers want more?
There is a price to be paid for wantonly attacking a group of martial artist who have sequestered themselves in the northern mountains of Idaho. They isolated themselves for a reason. They are the best of the best, and should be left alone. When all is done and the battlefield is covered in blood, the antagonist is clearly the bad guy. But is he evil?
His actions are evil, from the point of view of the protagonists, just as the Indian’s actions in The Searchers were evil to Ethan Edwards. The novel The Searchers was an extraordinary book, and the film even more so.
I wonder why I can’t remember any teen novels with the complexity of The Searchers. Do publishers feel that the subject matter is too complex? Is it? I do not think so. No, to this day I remember being fascinated by the story that held no clear winner.
The Searchers anchors around the theme of the family and personal honor, a point often overlooked. This theme runs through The Baby Dancers, but I believe I have found a certain clarity. The protagonist, Zeke, has a moral code and a divine directive. He will suffer no man’s evil. But, Zeke is a thinking young man.
When the antagonist is gray, when evil comes in bits and pieces and not wrapped in bow that is easily identifiable, the stakes are high. Once could say they can go no higher from our protagonist. For, like Ethan, when faced with the quest, the power he wields puts him on the razor’s edge. To fall the wrong way in the quest is to become the bad man.
The sword has but one purpose.
I’m not going to preach to my readers, Lord knows I have several writing friends who will kick my ass if I do.
But I am not going to make it easy. Sometimes the journey is not the the reward. Sometimes, the journey is a long, terrible path, fraught with peril and a stain on the mortal soul.
Death of a Goblin Ninja
Ops, thought Klo as he realized the man drew his sword as he stood his full height, towering over him.
As the great sword flashed in its arc, Klo realized it was actually longer than he was tall. The man did not see his exact position, but he did not have to, as his sword’s reach was such that Klo was inside its deadly arc, while Klo could not even reach the man to strike back.
I have made a tactical error, thought Klo right before his head separated from his body, and then he thought no more.
Sigh
AN ADDITIONAL 3 TO 6 INCHES OF SNOW IS EXPECTED THROUGH TONIGHT IN
THE PUGET SOUND LOWLANDS AND THE LOWER CHEHALIS VALLEY. A FEW
ISOLATED LOCATIONS COULD RECEIVE AS MUCH AS 8 INCHES. SNOWFALL
AMOUNTS WILL BE VARIABLE FROM LOCATION TO LOCATION.
That usually translates to 7-10″ for us folks at higher elevations than Seattle-Bellevue.
Sigh.
Sunday Reflections, 14
“A certain fear of death, dull and oppressive, came to him. This fear quickly became poignant as he realized that it was no longer a mere matter of freezing his fingers and toes, or of losing his hands and feet, but that it was a matter of life and death with the chances against him.”
—Jack London, To Build a Fire
Winds won’t be as bad
The windstorm forecast earlier will not be as bad, so says the new model.
That is good. The similar storm from 2003 killed a number of folks.
Right now I have sustained winds of 25 with gusts up to 35 mph. Predictions are that will increase, but not dramatically as previously modeled.
However, right now heavy snow is falling and could continue to fall until 10 am Sunday. There is an inch (or more) of snow on the porch, and the porch is covered. You can’t tell where our driveway is, and soon the only way you will be able to tell where the road is is by the lamps at the end of everyone’s driveway. Visibility is near whiteout conditions, which would make driving (not to mention being outside) very dangerous.
Not pleasant, but it could have been worse. Pictures tomorrow, assuming I have power.
Now with radar coverage!
The Big Ouch
Fooked
First we have the wind:
AST PUGET SOUND LOWLANDS-
A HIGH WIND WARNING REMAINS IN EFFECT FROM 9 AM SATURDAY TO 4 PM
PST SUNDAY.
STRONG WINDS WILL DEVELOP OVER THE EAST PUGET SOUND LOWLANDS ON
SATURDAY MORNING AND INTENSIFY ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON. THIS WIND
EVENT WILL PEAK ON SATURDAY NIGHT AND THEN SUBSIDE ON SUNDAY.
AT THE HEIGHT OF THIS EVENT…SUSTAINED WINDS COULD REACH 50 TO
70 MPH WITH PEAK GUSTS OF 70 TO 90 MPH. THE STRONGEST WINDS ARE
EXPECTED TO IMPACT COMMUNITIES IN EASTERN KING COUNTY SUCH AS
NORTH BEND…MAPLE VALLEY AND ENUMCLAW. COMMUNITES IN EASTERN
SNOHOMISH COUNTY SUCH AS SULTAN AND GOLD BAR COULD ALSO EXPERIENCE
WINDS APPROACHING THIS MAGNITUDE.
FURTHER WEST ALONG THE I-405 AND HIGHWAY 167 CORRIDORS…INCLUDING
WOODINVILLE…BELLEVUE…RENTON AND AUBURN…WINDS OF 25 TO 35
MPH WITH GUSTS OF 50 TO 55 MPH ARE EXPECTED.
THIS EVENT COULD RIVAL A SIMILAR FOOTHILLS WIND STORM FROM EARLY
DECEMBER 2003. DURING THAT EVENT…NUMEROUS TREES WERE BLOWN
OVER…BLOCKING RESIDENTIAL STREETS AND MAJOR HIGHWAYS
ALIKE…INCLUDING HIGHWAY 18 NEAR TIGER MOUNTAIN. POWER WAS
KNOCKED OUT TO MANY RESIDENCES AND BUSINESSES FOR AS MUCH AS A
WEEK. PEOPLE NEED TO PREPARE NOW FOR MAJOR DISRUPTION RESULTING
FROM THIS WINDSTORM. BE SURE TO HAVE ENOUGH SUPPLIES ON HAND TO
LAST FOR SEVERAL DAYS SHOULD YOU BE STRANDED AT HOME. BY LATE
SATURDAY MORNING…IT MAY BE TOO LATE TO PREPARE.
IN ADDITION…WIND CHILL READINGS DURING THIS EVENT MAY BE NEAR
ZERO WITH AIR TEMPERATURES IN THE MID TO UPPER 20S.
PRECAUTIONARY/PREPAREDNESS ACTIONS…
A HIGH WIND WARNING MEANS THAT A SEVERE HIGH WIND EVENT IS
IMMINENT OR OCCURRING. SUSTAINED WINDS OF AT LEAST 50 MPH…OR
GUSTS OF 75 MPH OR HIGHER WILL OCCUR ACROSS THE LOWLANDS.
RESIDENTS AND LOCAL OFFICIALS IN THE WARNED AREA SHOULD BE
PREPARED FOR WIDESPREAD DAMAGE AND POWER OUTAGES
THAT COULD LAST FOR MORE THAN A WEEK.
Then we have the snow:
A WINTER STORM WARNING is in effect for most of the rest of the Western Washington lowlands, including the Seattle metro corridor. Snow will begin around sunset Saturday and fall heavily through Saturday night and into Sunday morning before tapering off midday Sunday.
But wait! There is more! We actually have the potential for freezing rain!
So, if I stop blog updating, now you know.
We can heat the house with natural gas (two natural gas fireplaces designed to do just that). We have a lot of food. But I can tell you, being without power for an extended length of time sucks.
Because of our proximity to the ocean and the Puget Sound, winter weather is unpredictable. I live in North-Central King County, which is notorious for either A) Having snow while the rest Redmond (the nearest town) did not or B) missing the foul weather. Normally we get whatever Bellevue gets plus a couple of inches, so we could be on the 25-35 mile winds with the gusts up to 55 mph.
Or, we could get the most icky foothills blizzard-like conditions with sustained winds up at 50 with gusts up to 70 mph.
Unfortunately, both are bad. I live in the woods. This is a heavily wooded area. Winds up to 55 mph will topple trees around here in significant amounts to cause major road and power disruptions. If the foothill winter storm hits this area and moves to Seattle, it will create wide-spread destruction. If the 90 mph stuff moves west from the east, we will not get a lot of snow, but we will get royally and thoroughly fooked.
I will keep everyone apprised on my Twitter feed. But if I go dark, the UPS battery for the router died, or my cable was cut.
As far as my house, I cut down all the trees that would fall on it (that I could) years ago. There is a potential for some to fall on the house (and in 1997 two actually did), but it is doubtful.
I gassed up the car. Heuh.
No, it’s six inches.
“I think it’s eight inches.”
“Mmmm, looks like six,” she said.
“Really? It has to be closer to eight.”
“No, it’s six inches.”
“Now you’re just being ornery.”
“If you don’t believe me, go get the yardstick and measure it.”
“Fine.”
So I do.
“Well?”
“Six inches. Exactly.”
“Ha ha!”
I whack the snow off the yardstick and grump off.
The moral of this story? Don’t argue with a Southern Girl over inches.
Here is your snow, Kiersten
By your request to send snow your way, here ya go.
There is more on the way.
No need to thank me, that’s just the kind of guy that I am.
The snow made me think of suck
As the snow is accumulating, the mind wanders to
Cartoons.
When I was younger and into cartoons on Saturday morning (now the kids just use the TiVo), my brothers were into the GI Joe cartoon.
I hated it.
Zoom forward many many years. They still have that cartoon, and I still hate it. In fact, I hated any cartoon that had guns, swords, lasers, tanks, spacecraft, robots or any other destructive device where it was pointed in the general direction of the bad guy, activated, and nothing happened except cartoon bullets or rays or whatever traveled and did not harm, or God forbid kill, the bad guy.
Let us not kill the bad guy, even if the bad guy is trying to kill us. For, if protecting ourselves means using lethal force, then perhaps that is not a life worth living.
Or something like that. I never did figure out the message there. Whatever it is, it is bad: no end-to-end thinking. There are no consequences. No stakes. It was never real, so it was always boring. Eventually I figured out that the bad guys could not die, because they could not then sell that action figure.
Thing One asked if I liked the GI Joe cartoon and I said no. I told him, clearly, that in a war, when American soldiers pointed their weapons at people and pulled the trigger, people died. Sometimes in great numbers.
For the sake of self-censorship, we have created that which we wanted to avoid. We have created the expectation of violence without consequences. Instead of resolution and empathy, we have quick judgments and apathy.
I’ve seen books like this. The authors interpreted the world through their internal biases and wishful thinking. Why use colorful prose to describe a grey saturated world? Since they cannot show what life is like, they try to tell what they wish it to be.
Inadvertently, those books suck.
Looking back, looking forward
I started writing January 20, 2008 after a 23-year absence from fiction writing.
Or so I used to think.
Essentially, I am a new novelist focusing on speculative fiction. If I consider my crap that I wrote as a teen as self-serving exercises, what I really am becomes clear. Thinking about that, I am going to quit saying I had writer’s block for so long. You cannot have writer’s block if you were not a writer!
I am a new writer after several abortive attempts. That is the only way to describe it.
Hello, my name is Anthony and I am a new writer!
Hi Anthony!
Anyway, since the end of January, I have written two books (one science fiction, one near-future science fiction) and am one-third through the third (Young Adult Fantasy).
Can I actually write three books in a year?
I believe I can. In fact, since I refuse to let book three go over 80,000 words, January 20, 2009 looks very doable.
What is book four? Well, if I gather any nibbles on Bunny Trouble, I will start on Bunny Theory. If not, I will work on an idea that has been brewing in my mind. A crime solver set off in the future. She is a pragmatic investigator—using her wits and intuition to avenge the dead and hurt—while attempting to keep her four husbands in line.
Written in first person point of view, oh my, that sounds deliciously fun.
Nom!
4000 Hits, the Meta Post
Wow. It seems like yesterday I was doing a meta post on 2000 hits, and here we are again. Boom chug-a-lug!
“About” is the hottest post on my blog, which is cool.
This meta look at my blog focuses on searches. Some of the searches that hit my blog were humorous and entertaining. Others were just… creepy. Anyway, here we go!
(this list is not all inclusive, WordPress forgets some 1 hit searches for some unknown reason)
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I get a lot of searches on the various posts I have done on the AR-10t. In general, the AR-10t is an excellent marksman’s rifle. If a bad-vision, glasses wearing, not very experienced distance shooter such as myself can do 1 MOA, with rapid follow shots (up to 200 yards), a skilled marksman can do much better. |
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| ar10t | Just buy one |
| black hills molybdenum disulfide coated | Lots of hits on this. If you have the money to spend, only reloading will get you better |
| molybdenum | |
| rail systems for ar-10t | Don’t have one |
| molybdenum disulfide sniper | Yes, if you have a sniper rifle you should be using moly match |
| moly fouling | Doesn’t exist |
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All you little wankers searching on Unwind for your homework realize some of these searches are from .EDU, where the teacher who has assigned the book is reading what other people wrote… right? |
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| unwind discussion questions | |
| unwind by neal shusterman | |
| unwind plot | |
| unwind shusterman | |
| themes in the novel “unwind” | |
| unwind neal shusterman | |
| what does the word unwind mean | |
| what is the theme of the book unwind? | |
| monster hunter international | Buy Larry’s book! Buy two copies! |
| prince ombra summary | |
| online prince ombra | |
| anais nin writing exercise | Have naughty sex, write, have more hot sex, and then write some more. |
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Max rules! People come to my blog to know this. |
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| max leone | |
| “max leone” | |
| max leone source:publishers_weekly | |
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Another service by the Hack Writer. No need to thank me, that’s just the kind of guy that I am. |
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| chris isaac wicked game | |
| chris isaac | |
| hurt johnny | |
| m4 part 2 lyrics | |
| faunts m4 lyrics | |
| chris isaak november 2008 | |
| blue oyster cult don’t fear the reaper | |
| delerium just a dream | My favorite song on the Bunny Trouble soundtrack so far. |
| m4 part 2 mass lyric | Mass Effect is an awesome game! |
| faunts lyric mass effect | |
| i want to fall in love chris isaacs | That’s I don’t want to fall in love |
| m4 part 2 | |
| tony from blue oyster cult | |
| faunts m4 part ii lyrics | |
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| pacheco writer | That’s me! |
| kierstenwrites | That’s not me! |
| get in the kitchen and make me some pie | The fact that someone searched on that and found my blog rules hard |
| pacheco.com | |
| dropping objects from orbit | Oh yes Baby, DO IT! |
| embrace the suck | Yes, EMBRACE THE SUCK! |
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| librarything hack | No. |
| come on baby hack | Still no. |
| caffeine and sugar on typing speed and a | And a WHAT? A Monkey? WHAT? |
| lawrence osborne twitter | No again. |
| butt kissing skirt | I have kissed a girl on the butt while she was wearing a skirt as a joke, but I did not blog about it. |
| oh i want to fall in love with you and i | I know you do, Honey, but I am married |
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And now for special commentary on this search:
“janet reid” literary photo
Let’s think about this one. There is no reason why someone would need to search for a photo of a literary agent. If you needed her photo, she would give you one. Thus, that search term enters into the Creep Zone, more so when you take into account just how many pages one had to flip through to land on my blog. However, just in case this is a legitimate need, I do indeed have a picture of Janet Reid, Literary Agent Extraordinaire.
No need to thank me, that’s just the kind of guy that I am.
