In defense of raccoons

Hi!

I respectfully disagree with the posts here about the raccoons. They can be nice and sweet and they are obviously cute. The lady in Florida who was attacked by a family of raccoons “attacked” first… She went outside with a broom and started to hit them, I think any animal, specially one with babies with them would have done the same, just to protect themselves.

I have been feeding a small female in my backyard. She is the sweetest thing, 4 nights ago she brought 3 babies for me to meet, the cutest thing. She lets me get near her, she has never showed any aggression.


Respectful disagreement is never a problem here. Thanks for taking the time to write.

There is a reason the Park Service says Don’t feed the bears. But I sincerely hope it all works out for you, and am glad you are enjoying it.

Lambda Literary is here!

Today there’s a new website in town: Lambda Literary. It’s a virtual home for anyone who reads, writes, publishes, reviews and supports stories by and about queer people.

When I met Nicola in 1988 and then went back home alone to Atlanta for a year, the queer people I knew were friends I’d met by happenstance at first, and then through dances and parties and, most especially, Charis Books and More. I missed Nicola, and I had new things about myself to figure out, and I was hungry for stories and connection with people who wrote them.

Fortunately for Atlanta, Charis is still there. But many LGBT bookstores have not survived, and that means that queer people in many parts of the US — and around the world — have to go looking for stories elsewhere. Because of the hard work of an amazing team of people, Lambda Literary is a new place for all of us. Because it’s not just about finding book reviews, interviews with writers, news of queer literature — although you will — it’s also about finding community.

It’s important. And it rocks.

I’m enormously proud of my beloved Nicola, who championed this vision to the LLF board; our dear friend Karina Meléndez, who developed this extensive, beautiful site; and of people I’ve never met — Tony Valenzuela, the Executive Director of Lambda Literary Foundation, and Antonio Gonzalez, the Web Producer and Chief Editor, who together will keep the site growing for all of us.

So hey, that’s enough from me. Go take a look! And tell everyone!

Because love doesn’t always mean wheat

We are big fans of wheaty goodness in our house, but, as Love Story reminds us, love means not always having to eat the wheat (or wait, maybe it was something about sorry… which I always thought was deeply silly. Call me wacky, but I think love means sometimes saying you are sorry even when you aren’t.).

Today I made my sweetie a non-wheaty treatie…oh dear, I am becoming punchy and must go make more tea immediately.

Enjoy your day and all the love in your life, whatever form it may come in.

Banana oat muffins

  • 1 cup oat bran
  • ½ cup oat flour
  • ½ cup rice flour
  • 3 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1 egg
  • ¼ cup canola oil or other vegetable oil
  • ¼ cup honey
  • 1½ cups milk
  • 1 or 2 ripe bananas
  • ½ to ¾ cup raisins, depending on your taste
  • ½ to ¾ cup sweet dried cranberries, depending on your taste
  1. Preheat oven to 425°F. Oil or butter the muffin tins.
  2. Whisk the oat bran, oat flour, rice flour and backing powder together in a large bowl.
  3. In a separate bowl, mix the oil, honey, egg and milk.
  4. In a separate bowl, squish the banana(s) into paste with your hands, then mix in the raisins and cranberries.
  5. Stir half the liquid into the dry ingredients until just blended. Add half the fruit and stir. Then add the remaining liquid and fruit, stirring until just blended.
  6. Fill each muffin cup about 2/3 full. Bake at 425° for 15-25 minutes, until the muffins are brown and a toothpick in the center comes out mostly clean. Remove from oven and allow to cool.

Makes 12 – 15 muffins. If you wish, you can cook 6 at a time and keep the batter in the fridge (keeps up to 2 days). Stir cold batter well before baking.

The big time differential depends on your oven. I do 16 -20 minutes on convection, and it generally takes 25 minutes for my oven on non-convection. Don’t be afraid to let them get brown on top.

Everything, briefly

From artist Jamie Bell, A Brief History of Pretty Much Everything. Brilliant.

This is the final piece for my AS art course, a flipbook made entirely out of biro pens. It’s something like 2100 pages long, and about 50 jotter books. I’d say I worked on and off it for roughly 3 weeks.
 
Song is French Cancan by Jaques Offenbach.
 
Additional sounds credited to Valve, specifically from their game Team Fortress 2.
 
Other stuff is from the 300 trailer and O Little Town of Bethlehem.
 
— Jamie Bell, artist, A Brief History of Pretty Much Everything

 

 
Enjoy your day.

Two scoops of Hax

I have said before that I think Carolyn Hax is made of awesome sauce, and, well, here I am to say it again with two recent columns that made me talk back to my computer screen (You go, Carolyn!)

The first column starts out being about elevator rudeness, but read the entire column (which is an ongoing conversation). Really, we’re talking about what tolerance means, and how assumptions and judgments hurt people. I’ve had plenty of personal experience of this, and so has Nicola, and you know what? All you people who have ever rolled your eyes at her because she doesn’t look sick enough to meet your standards can just fuck off.

I don’t know why people feel entitled to get up in the face of strangers who are making non-hurtful-to-anyone-else choices about how to spend their time and energy. I think it must be a spirit-bruising way to live. I can put on my Judge Judy pajamas with the best of them, but I am trying harder to save it for times when people are hurting each other, not just themselves.

Robert Heinlein said, “Hurting yourself isn’t sinful, just stupid.” I don’t like the word “stupid” — it means something particular to me and I hesitate to apply it across the board this way. Because we’ve all made choices that hurt ourselves. And sometimes it really is stupid, and sometimes it’s just… I don’t know. Sometimes it’s just learning. Which seems to me to be the opposite of stupid.

But deciding whether other people have a “right” to take the elevator or not is stupid.

Here’s my other helping of Hax for you today: why do people protect their bitterness? I’ve got bitter slippers in my closet just like everyone else (they like to snuggle up to those Judy Judy pajamas…) but mostly, I prefer to wear the Cloak of Everyday Happiness and drink champagne and appreciate kindness when I find it in the world.

It’s raining in Seattle. Nicola and I went to the park anyway. We got very wet. Because of the rain, Nicola wore her hat again. People walking by in the park tend to either avert their eyes when they see her in this hat, or smile tenderly (seriously — tenderly), and we finally figured out it’s because they think she’s a chemotherapy patient. At least they don’t roll their eyes.

Enjoy your day.

It’s funny when it isn’t you…

Here is what I am finding amusing lately — Clients From Hell, a collection of pithy client-horror stories from anonymous designers.

To be clear, I don’t have any actual clients like this. At all. But I have sure met some of these people. And when one is not actually having to deal with them, they are remarkably funny to read about.

Some personal favorites:

  • Once I get out on parole, we can really get this thing off the ground.
  • Hi could you please fix my website so that people in Canada can’t see it? It makes fun of hockey and I don’t want to get hurt.
  • I got together 6 of my trusted friends, we each had a bottle of wine and printed out all 47 pages of the website you designed. I have written the notes out on every page – we have a lot of tweaks.

Ooh, the last one sounds a lot like an editor! (Just kidding! Just kidding! I do not drink when I work…)

I hope you’re enjoying your weekend and that it includes no one from hell.

Publishing questions

From a reader through talk to me:

Are there any concerns involved in posting one’s writing works on a blog? For example, would publishers be less inclined to pay if a work, say a short story, or a novel draft, was already publicly available on the internet? What about after you get published, what control do you have over how you may distribute your writing outside of your publisher? What other rights issues are involved? I figured you might be able to answer me since you’ve posted some of both your published and unpublished work on this site.

Thank you! I am a great admirer of your work.


And thank you for your patience!

The answer is, maybe. It depends. (Don’t you hate that kind of answer?) If you’ve published an entire novel on your website and have had very few visitors, most print publishers won’t see that as a threat to their market: but they may wonder if there is a market for your book at all. If you have thousands of visitors, the publisher may assume you’ve already reached your audience — but clearly there is an audience for your book, and perhaps that audience can be expanded either for this book, or your next one.

Short stories are more problematic. If I had posted a short story on my website before publishing it in a professional market (online or print), I would make certain the editor knew it: and I think the editor might regard the story as “used” rather than “new,” But again, it depends on the individual editor, the overall market, and what kind of traffic you get.

I can’t speak for publishers or editors. I can only speak from my perspective. But I can also call upon Great and Powerful Resources for you (grin): here’s a blog post on this topic from Moonrat at Editorial Ass, who is an actual Publishing Person and has informed opinions. Make sure to read the comment conversation as well for more discussion. (And follow her blog: she’ll give you lots of insight into publishing and editing).

As far as rights after publication, that depends entirely on your contract for the story or novel. The publisher will generally take exclusive rights for first print publication in some form (English/North America; world English; first serial rights for short fiction; etc.) During that time, you may not publish the work in its entirety with anyone else, although generally everyone agrees that it’s a good thing to post a sample chapter or a story on your website, or the publisher’s website, and to possibly serialize the first bits of the book to bring readers in.

When you sell a short story to an online or print magazine, you generally sell one-time rights. When you sell to an anthology, you generally sell world rights and hope the anthology will be translated into a zillion languages. In all cases, after the story has been out a certain amount of time, you will have the right to re-sell it to other markets (reprint rights). And the right to post it on your own website, as many writers do.

The publisher will always take some form of electronic rights and you will get them back when hell freezes over.

I never publish sold work on my website without either having the rights myself or negotiating clearly with the publisher (as in the case of my stories that appear both in Dangerous Space and on this site). The only time I publish unsold work here is when I’ve decided that it is unsaleable. That may change as the overall publishing model changes, but for now it’s how I work.

A lot of writers blog work-in-progress because they just can’t wait for readers; just can’t wait for people to see their work. But unless the writer is an established writer posting work-in-progress for a specific reason (writers do this to raise money for themselves or others, for example), then I don’t see a lot of point. Posting work without a) an audience already in place, and b) a skilled hand at the writing wheel, seems to me to be wholly driven by impatience: I can’t wait, I want people to love my work right now!

I get what that feels like. I am sometimes so impatient this way that I think my head will explode. But writing doesn’t get better just because it’s in public. It’s either good enough, or it isn’t. If your goal is to see your name on a story online, or a print book, then self-publish it. If your goal is to be professionally published (as it is still currently defined, although we all know it’s becoming a moving target), then do what pros do: keep your work to yourself until it’s really ready, and then go out and sell it.

That’s my two cents. To the reader who sent this question, let me know if I’ve answered it fully for you. To everyone else: mileage varies enormously in this area, and different opinions are welcome in the conversation.

Doomsplaining, bleh

Last night I had a Dark Night of the Soul about all the work I have to do: currently so much of it that I am not able to do things that are also work but do not make money quite so immediately, like, you know: writing; reading other people’s books (which is part of my job as well as my pleasure); reading other people’s screenplays (ditto); watching a DVD without also watching the clock. I ordered pizza last night because I couldn’t face cooking a whole meal; in fact, I entertained brief notions of dumping all our skillets into the ravine and forcing my sweetie to live on Thai takeout and baked potatoes and tuna sandwiches forever and ever and ever, or at least until our personal Fairy Godmother Chef comes along.

But all the skillets would be washed out to sea and… well, rust and leach heavy metals and poison the little baby fishes or something, so I guess that plan is out. I am not that self-absorbed quite yet, although one of the effects of fatigue is that I become more persuaded of my own Special Snowflakeness with every passing minute. Because of course no one else in the whole big world/long spread of human history has ever had too much to do before! No one’s evah been as tired as me! Me me me me me…

I am really boring. I think I will stop now and suck it up and do some work and bring some structure to my life that allows me to Get Things Done as opposed to Freak the Fuck Out and Lie Around All Night Feeling Special and Doomed.

For reasons I don’t quite understand, this post by Justine Larbalestier about mansplaining and whitesplaining really cheered me up. It was actually reading this post that made me get over myself today. I have no idea why, but thanks, Justine. I think I will stop doomsplaining to myself and instead recall my extreme great good fortune in a) having work, b) being happy, c) being ALIVE.

And now I am going to go make another cup of tea and get on with it. I wish all you other busy, alive people a very good day. You are truly special, you know, in the non-Snowflake way, and I look forward to being back among you.

Small Beer Press will reprint Solitaire

I am happy-dancing thrilled that Small Beer Press will publish a reprint edition of Solitaire early next year.

Those who know Small Beer will understand why I’m so happy: Gavin Grant and Kelly Link have built a wonderful, writer-friendly business, a high-powered critical reputation, and a list of books for readers of all ages and persuasions whose common connection is a love of story. I’ve known them for a long time (sf isn’t a very big club, really), and have long wanted a chance to work with them. I’m honored by their support of Solitaire (which, for those who know the SB imprints, is coming out as a Small Beer book, not a Peapod Classic).

Want to know more? Check out Small Beer on Facebook and their most excellent blog.

So: a new edition, a new cover, and a new phase of life for Solitaire. I’m delighted. Tonight I’ll drink a large beer to Small Beer (grin): for now, I think I’ll go have another cup of tea.

Enjoy your day.

Fuddy duddy

After careful consideration and thoughtful analysis, I have scarifyingly concluded that I am becoming a fuddy duddy writer.

I am at home all the time. It’s where I work as well as live, but, ya know, I’m just always here. I dislike shoes a great deal and so, when at home, I wear socks and slippers. Like an Old Person. I wear my glasses on a string around my neck because I need them to see close but not far, so they go on and off, on and off, all day long.

I also wear a really old cardigan that I’ve had forever. It’s so old that it is worn through on one shoulder, and because I have no sewing skills whatsoever, I have repaired the hole with a safety pin. It’s a charming fashion statement, really hip. Also, the cardigan is currently missing a button that came off a couple of weeks ago when I was loading dishes into the dishwasher, and one of the buttons snagged on a cup hook and blammo, there you go, button overboard. The button currently lives on my monitor stand, where it regards me mournfully, as if to say When will I be loved? When will I reunite with my button brothers and sisters? Given my sewing skills, the answer is Long time, button dude.

I wear this cardigan every single day that I am working, because I like to be warm. Except sometimes I have to put it in the laundry, like a kid with her blankie, and then I am twitchy until it is dry and I can wear it again.

Fom my father I seem to have inherited the Get Up Early gene, and I am currently working hard on this and that, so these days I fade early and well, just want to go to bed. Like a fuddy duddy old person. I talk back to the television. I drink endless cups of tea while I write. I like my space tidy and my bed made. I eat oatmeal. My god, I just willingly watched educational TV with my sweetie last night. Where is the young person who stayed up until three a.m. reading and then went, owl-eyed but reasonably coherent, to classes the next day? Where is the woman who could drink six rum-and-tonics or two bottles of cheap wine in a night and live to tell the tale? Where is the bundle of energy who drove eight hundred miles in a day by herself, singing to U2 and smoking Parliament cigarettes and eating Burger King all the way?

Ah, well, I know where she is. She’s in the same place as the young person who was so often anxious on a daily basis because every situation was new. She’s with the woman who wouldn’t speak her mind because someone might not like it. She doesn’t drive a car across country anymore: instead she drives her mind into territory a lot farther than any odometer can measure. She tugs her cardigan into place, and then she plugs into her Radio Paradise or her Citysounds web radio or just cranks up Crystal Method on iTunes, and lives the life she has made for herself. In her slippers. With better wine and fine company and an inner life that never stops, not even in her sleep.