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Life the Universe and Everything Symposium at BYU

Attendance at LTUE was the highest I’ve ever seen it. as usual, I met marvelous new people and reconnected with friends whom I seldom see. Also as usual, several exciting new possibilities have opened up as a result of the conversations. Now I need to follow up on those possibilities and bring them to fruition.

At the end of the convention a group of 21 people all went out for dinner. It was a delight to gather so many wonderful people in the same place. I had to duck out early. My departure was triggered by a phone call from Gleek, but honestly I’d reached fatigued burn out. I was listening to conversations more than participating and from talking to Gleek I could tell that the kids had reached a burn out of sorts as well. Kiki had two five hour babysitting stretches two days in a row, and her patience was stretched. The other kids were also over tired. So I came home and used the last bits of my energy and motivation to trundle the kids off into bed.

Now I’m really looking forward to Conduit in May.

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Writing community

Sometimes you arrive at a place that you have never been before and it is like arriving home. Finding the local Science Fiction/Fantasy creative community was like that for Howard and I. We were instantly enfolded and welcomed. The process continues year after year as we attend local events. Each time I meet new people who are delightful and witty. Each time I walk away having learned something new or with a course of action to pursue. There is not enough time in these events for me to have all of the conversations I’d like to have.

LTUE has one more day tomorrow. After that I am like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight. I go home and put away the nice clothes to don my mommy gear. Then I will only have shining memories of all the delightful people and laughter. Unlike Cinderella, I’m not completely sorry to be back to normal because I know there will be another shiny convention to come and I will get to see all the people again. I’ll get to find out how they are doing and where their projects are. I will get to laugh and make jokes. It is all wonderful and invigorating, but it is also exhausting. I am glad to come back home where I can rest. I am glad to just sit in the quiet with my laptop and think.

Writing is so solitary. We all need the chance to see that we are not alone, that others have the same struggles. We need to talk and laugh and celebrate accomplishments. But then we need to go back home and get back to work, because without the work there is nothing to celebrate.

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Farewell to the cat

“I think that’s Callie.” Said Link’s friend as he petted the cat in Gleek’s lap. This small recognition led to the doorbell ringing an hour later. An 11 year old girl was at the door. I knew her and her family. She was in my creative writing class over a year ago. Her mother is Kiki’s youth group leader. They live around a couple of corners and down the block. The girl was here to see if our Keeka, that we found just over two weeks ago, was her cat Callie, who went missing last November. I led her to the back where Link was playing with Keeka. As we walked, a small piece of me hoped that she would be disappointed, so that my children would not have to be. I thought of the hours that Gleek and Kiki had spent just sitting outside and petting Keeka. We would never have deliberately gone out to acquire a cat, but a beautiful and friendly one had come to us unasked.

“Callie!” the girl gasped with delight. For a moment Gleek was delighted to swap cat stories. Gleek chattered about how we had found Keeka under our deck and rescued her. But then realization began to set in. Suddenly this cat was no longer our Keeka. She was someone else’s Callie. Gleek crumpled into sobs. I quickly realized that I could not just let the girl carry away our cat. Instead we walked with her, so that Gleek could see the home where Keeka lived. Patch came too, but Kiki and Link elected to stay home. Callie was greeted with delight by the rest of the family. They had all missed her and mourned her. It was a sight that Gleek needed to see. We came inside to talk about how the cat was lost and then found. Gleek got to see Callie curl up in her favorite chair and start purring. She also got to play with two tiny poodle dogs. Then I gathered my kids and we bid farewell.

All of my kids have a standing invitation to go and visit Callie any time they want. When we acquired the cat, this is actually the outcome I hoped for most, that she could go back to a home where she could be allowed indoors, but where my kids could visit. It is good, and yet tomorrow morning will be sad when there is no cat meowing at the back door to remind us that her bowl is empty. Tomorrow afternoon will be sad when she is not sitting on the doorstep waiting for the kids to arrive and pet her. We will go visit, but it will not be quite the same as when she was ours. But then I think of the joy on my friends’ faces. If I am a little bit sad, they were much more sad and now they are not. And neither is Callie. She was glad to be home.

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The Mystery Mug

I needed a plan fast because it was almost time for family home evening and it was my turn to provide the activity. I remembered a recipe that had been posted in the Codex forum, so I grabbed ingredients and started mixing. The kids trickled into the room. Kiki watched in disbelief as I dumped spoonfuls of flour into a mug

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Making an experiment.” I calmly answered. This was true. Any untested recipe is technically an experiment.
Gleek, having spotted the cocoa on the counter announced “I know what it is. It’s hot chocolate!”

“No it isn’t” Link protested. “She just put in an egg.”

Kiki peered into the cup. “Yeah. It is much too thick for hot chocolate.”

“I think it is going to explode.” Patch announced. All four kids were gathered around the counter, completely fascinated as I stirred brown glop in the mug.

“No it won’t” Kiki announced with all the certainty that being thirteen automatically supplies. “Food doesn’t explode.”

“Baking soda and vinegar does.” Link countered.

For a moment all was silent as four heads turned to watch the handful of chocolate chips be added to the mix. Then I turned and put the mug into the microwave.

“I told you it was hot chocolate!” Gleek announced triumphantly.

“No way.” Kiki declared. Before the argument could blossom, Howard and I called everyone to the table to begin the family event. We started with a song. Gleek picked Once There Was a Snowman, but with the caveat that we sing it backwards. This means that the snowman starts small and grows tall by the end instead of the other way around. As the song wound to it’s close, I glanced over at the microwave and burst out laughing. The concoction in the mug had puffed up over the top of the mug until it was as tall above the mug as the mug was tall.

“See!” Shouted Patch. “It exploded!”

All the children abandoned the table in a general rush to see the “exploded” experiment in the microwave. Thirty more seconds, and the timer beeped. We called everyone back to the table for prayer and lesson. Then we were ready for the mug. The contents of the mug had shrunk back into it. I dumped it onto the plate.

“This is a mug muffin.” I announced. We divided it between us. As muffins go, I’ve had better flavor, but it was still very good. It was particularly good when dipped in milk. But the joyous novelty of cooking a muffin in a coffee mug was fun for us all. Once the first one was gone, we made another.

Mug Muffins
4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)(I absolutely recommend keeping them)
a small splash of vanilla extract
1 large coffee mug

Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly.
Pour in the milk and oil and mix well. Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla extract, and mix again.
Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts (high).
The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don’t be alarmed!

Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.
EAT! (this can serve 2 if you want to feel slightly more virtuous).

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Some days all I can write is a ramble

Here I am in my house. The house is not clean, but it is Sunday and so I have a good excuse not to tackle it right now. I’m not supposed to work on Sunday. “Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it holy.” That commandment is harder to follow than one might think, particularly when my leisure activities are so entwined with my work. And yet the break benefits both the work and me. The kids are downstairs watching a pokemon disc we got from Netflix. We were going to watch City of Ember, but Link has a scout event at 7 pm and we don’t want him to miss the finale. City of Ember will have to wait until tomorrow. Since tomorrow is a holiday, we’ll have all day long. Except that tomorrow is also a working day for me. So much to do. The volume on the TV is too loud. Pokemon shows are always annoying at high volume. I should go turn it down, except that would require me to get up and as soon as I get up I will remember that I really ought to go fix dinner. Spaghetti is the plan for tonight. I’ve got to use up that italian sausage before it goes bad.

And so my thoughts dribble out of my brain and out through my fingers. I would love to really focus on writing something meaningful, and yet if I tangle my brain into writing I worry that I will have trouble refocusing tomorrow. Also, I’m tired. Too tired to find the insightful thoughts that must be lurking here in my head somewhere. I fell asleep in church today. Not surprising when I was awake on the wrong side of 2, 3, and 4 am last night. The caffeine I drank at 7 pm last night killed the vicious migraine, but also killed normal sleep. At least I got to snuggle Gleek for awhile. It has been months since she came crawling into our bed from bad dreams. 8 year olds tend to stay in their own beds. But last night she was scared and I got to snuggle her. I need to do it lots because before long she’ll be as big as Kiki. That would be a good segue into something insightful, but after staring blankly for several minutes, I couldn’t figure out what the insightful thing might be. Oh well.

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Feeling professional

When I was twelve, my mother gave me some genealogy papers to copy. They were pedigree charts. I’m not sure why she asked me to copy them by hand because I’m fairly certain that copy machines already existed, but she did. I remember sitting at a small table with the book sitting in front of me. It was a Sunday afternoon and I was still in my church dress. I used a pen to carefully transfer information from one page to another. I imagined that I was in an office, doing office work. It felt so grown-up and important, even though a part of me knew that I was only playing at being grown up.

Howard and I have been publishing books for four years now. Much of the time I have felt a little bit like I did all those years ago while copying the genealogy sheets. I’ve felt like I was playing at being a publishing professional. I was like the stage magician waving my hands around and hoping that no one would notice the cards poking out from the ends of my sleeves. We tried to present a calm and professional exterior while behind the scenes all was a scramble to keep on top of things. But over the years we have learned a lot. We don’t scramble in frantic fear of getting it wrong anymore. Now we just scramble in a frantic hurry to get it done on time. And I’ve learned that the scramble is normal for the publishing industry. I still have days when I feel like I’m just pretending to be professional, but then I have a week like the one just passed. It is hard to feel anything but professional during a week when I work on book layout, participate in a newspaper interview, send off a contract, put new merchandise in the store, answer loads of email, and ship out multiple store orders.

Today Howard and I laid out plans for the book after Scrapyard. Resident Mad Scientist will take us about 4 months to compile. I took stock today and realized that we are down to our last 500 copies of Under New Management. We’re going to have to re-print that along side Resident Mad Scientist. We stood there discussing it and I had one of those “wow, I’m really a grown up now” moments. There I was planning ahead on printing two additional books and it was not stressing me out at all. Good heavens, I contract printing of things in China. I create whole layouts for books. I’m on a first name basis with people at Baen Books. When did all that happen? I still remember when the thought of owning a business was frightening to me, when I secretly hoped that Howard would just be happy collecting a paycheck. (We were only a year married, and I figured out quickly that paycheck collection was not the way to happiness for us.) How did I get from there to here? I look back and I can trace the path. It has been a long one and I am so glad that I traveled it. Am traveling. We’re far from done.

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Rambling thoughts on a writing contest

In January I participated in a forum writing contest called Weekend Warrior. It lasted five weeks. Each Saturday morning three prompts were posted. Participants had until Sunday evening to write a story of 750 words or less. It was a good experience, but it was very hard on me. I had to quit after the third week because I’d completely drained my emotional reserves while simultaneously neglecting a bunch of house/family stuff that I felt guilty about. The scheduling for the contest was all wrong for me. If I spend Saturday feverishly writing, I end up growling at the kids who are home all day. The growling was even worse because we were all stuck inside due to icy weather. Saturday is also the day that I usually focus on getting the house clean, so my house clutter intensified over the course of three weeks. Then there was the fact that my stories were being scored against other stories. Week after week I had to face the fact that I’m not as good at this as I want to be. I wanted to wow people and I never did. In the end I had to stop. I had to rebalance myself and realize that mid-January was probably not the best time to try to stretch myself in this particular way.

And yet it really felt good to lose myself in the writing. It was fun to have a scheduled time to turn my brain over to story and plot percolation. And the deadline gave me the impetus to truly schedule the time. In theory I’m trying to make Thursday mornings my writing time, but in practice I frequently fill the time with other things instead. Next week will be completely absorbed by getting Scrapyard finished. Then there will be LTUE. Maybe after that I can settle the schedule back down. I just counted and I have five finished stories waiting for revision. I also have two projects partially drafted. It would be nice to get some of these out where they have a chance at publication. If I had not participated in the Weekend Warrior contest 4 of those stories would not exist.

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The small traps in which I catch myself

It is strange the assumptions I can find lurking in my own brain.

I was watching a talk by Elizabeth Gilbert (Author of Eat Pray Love) and I was suddenly struck that here was a woman who has a glowing writing career and she has probably never written a single word that qualifies as Science Fiction or Fantasy. It was as if a door in my brain had opened to whole new possibilities in writing. You see, I know lots of writers, but they are overwhelmingly writers of Science Fiction and Fantasy. Add to that the fact that whenever the child Sandra pictured writing books, the books she pictured were Fantasy. Somehow these things combined in my head to make only my Science Fiction and Fantasy writing count. This is ludicrous. This is particularly ludicrous because in the wide world of writing and publishing, genre fiction is regarded as a tiny eddy in the great river. And yet I have been telling myself that I did not do any writing last year. Get this, I wrote a blog entry almost every single day, and yet somehow in my head those did not count as writing. The non-genre writing that my friends did counted, but somehow I was discounting my own.

And suddenly a door has opened in my head, and I realize that there are many kinds of writing that I want to do, of which Science Fiction and Fantasy are only a part. They may not even be the larger part. I want to write essays, and blog entries, and articles, and who knows what else. With this new widened perspective I peer back into the past and I remember that even child Sandra was not Fantasy Only. I remember the Children Lost on an Island adventure. I remember the couple of teen lit projects. I remember those final essays of high school which technically met the assignment, but baffled the teacher because he wasn’t sure how to grade them. I am not one thing. I am many things. I’ve always been many things. In fact this is one of the difficulties I constantly face. I want to chase all the shiny possibilities simultaneously.

And so I need to reach out more. I need to start to familiarize myself with publishing outside the eddy of genre fiction. I need to read more books that don’t contain spaceships or magic. Not all at once, because there is value and comfort in the familiar, but enough that I keep expanding my horizons. I suspect that the expansion will improve all of my writing, even the stories with magic and space ships.

And now I have yet another shiny possibility that I want to chase down right now. Instead I have stored it here so that I can find it again once I’m done scrambling to get the Schlock book done.

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An experience in search of a metaphor

This week I’ve spoken to several people about the fact that I’m “running hot”, or maybe I just spoke to myself about it several times. Sometimes I get confused about that. But anyway, what I’m trying to communicate is that I’ve been running on high energy, accomplishing lots, and then fizzling out. The metaphor only sort of works. It doesn’t express the wideness of the experience. Perhaps it is more like the huge sails on the rigged ships of yore. In this state I have unfurled my sales in order to catch all of the available wind. It lets me travel very quickly, but the heavy wind also strains the mast and the rigging. If I keep my sails too wide, I risk doing damage to the ship itself. This one doesn’t quite work either. It does properly convey the images of failure, because when I stop working efficiently, it usually is not catastrophic. Perhaps instead it is like casting my nets wide to catch lots of fish. For awhile I can do it, but then the nets wear out and fishes start escaping through the holes. If I don’t take time to mend the nets, then I’ll end up with more holes than net. Only that is not quite it either.

When my focus is wide, I move fast. I process multiple streams of information. I track many trains of thought and manage them all. As an example, this morning I answered email, wrote a blog entry, put a new item into the store, arranged for printing of the email, and did the last touch of contact on a contract. I required two computers and 30 minutes to accomplish all of that. The tasks were all interlinked. The item in the store was part of the blog entry and required an email to a supplier. The contract contacting was also reflected in the blog post. It was very much like fast paced juggling. It is a high energy, adrenaline charged state, but I can not stay there for long because I become fatigued. Then instead of catching all those balls I keep turning around to discover that one bounced off the floor while I wasn’t looking and others are just gone. Did I throw them too hard? Did they roll off into the corner? I have no idea. Also with my brain opened wide for multi-track processing, I pick up a lot of noise. I accumulate piles of information, but am not able to process it. Quickly it all turns into a meaningless wash. This is when I have to deliberately step back, limit my inputs, and reconfigure my brain to be able to focus on a single thing instead of many things at once. Transitioning from one to the other is not easy. Particularly when being hyped on adrenaline leaves me cold and shaky. I managed it with a hot bath and a nap. Unfortunately I was awakened before I had completed the decompression process. Kids need stuff. Often.

But now I am ready to settle down and focus on one or two big tasks rather than a dozen small ones. The only problem being that I’ve run out of work hours. Now I’m into mommy hours. Hopefully I’ll be able to keep the focus until tomorrow morning so I can get the copy edits and footnote boxes put into Scrapyard.






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Good things

It seems that February has been very good for many of my online friends. I know people who’ve landed deals for novels, people who are getting editorial letters, people who are having twins, people whose novels are selling really well, and people whose first ARCs have gone out. I also know some people for whom February has been truly sucktastic, but on the whole most of my friends seem bursting with good news. We here at the Tayler house fully intend to add to the good news side of the scale.

1. We signed the contract with our printer for The Scrapyard of Insufferable Arrogance. We’re due to deliver files to them by February 20th. This is past our hoped for Valentine’s finish date, but it is still awesome to be so close to being done. We’re also going to create slipcases which hold the first five Schlock Mercenary books. This means that we’ll be able to sell boxed sets. We’ll also be selling the boxes separately for folks who already have the books and want a shiny box to keep them in.

2. We have new posters in the store. These include a special edition print on translucent Cell paper which is beautiful. Also a new Rule 35 poster “That which does not kill me has made a tactical error”. We intend to make the rule posters available as 8 x 10 prints when we open book preordering.

3. Last Monday a very nice reporter for our local paper came and interviewed Howard for an hour or so. The result showed up on the front page of our local paper this morning. We now know which of our neighbors takes the paper because we can track who has emailed or called to congratulate us. You can read the article online. I’m in the article too.

4. This is the big one, and it is news that we’ve been sitting on since last August. Baen Books will be selling electronic versions of the first four Schlock Mercenary books. We hope to have these available in March. All of the cartoon archives will remain online, we’ll still be selling print books, but this opens up the e-reader market for Schlock Mercenary. It also provides a way for fans outside of North America to buy the books and bonus material without having to pay to ship paper across the ocean. We’re very excited to be working with the good folks at Baen. They’ve been marvelous to us.

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