Surfing the Human Wave

Okay, thanks to the amazingly interesting combination of Lunacon (pico-con-report – fun, membership is declining, the management hopes there’ll be a next time), moving house, and a certain kilted raccoon and his “friends” I’ve been mostly out of touch for a while. And what do you do while I’m gone? You go and start a movement. Not even an honest, prune-generated one, but a literary movement.

Honestly, you people are dangerous.

Okay, I was probably kind of sort of part of that movement before it started. I’m not as overtly anti-authority as Sarah, I’m much more the Australian subversive style that smiles and nods and pretends to pay attention before going off and doing what I always intended to do – while twisting the rules into pretzels to put what I intended into at least a gray zone.

Funnily enough this shows in my writing. I can’t follow genre rules without something twisting. I’m chronically incapable of refraining from the ancient art of taking the piss (although it tends to emerge in ways that leave people scratching their heads wondering what in heck I’m on about now. Or maybe just on (I can answer that question. The narcoleptic’s cocktail gets me all the really good drugs. Meth’s first cousin to wake up, one of the -epams to go to sleep to, antidepressants because being chronically short of sleep causes depression, as well as miscellaneous other stuff to deal with some of the other cascading malfunctions. They’re good drugs. They take me from walking zombie to moderately functional.). Sometimes what happens is funny. Sometimes it’s more like the One True measure of software quality – WTFs per minute. As a tester in the day job, I’m very familiar with that one.).

No matter what, it always ends up not fitting into anyone’s nice, neat marketing categories, and it breaks all those establishment rules about what’s supposed to happen.

I should confess here: I tried to write a grey goo story once. It turned into something else. I’m still not sure what, but it certainly wasn’t gray goo.

Of course, I’ve now guaranteed that I won’t be truly Human Wave either, even though I think the whole concept encapsulates what I end up doing. It’s just that I don’t do it deliberately (no-one ever believes me when I say this). I’m not trying to exclude myself – I just have a sneaking suspicion I was surfing that wave long before it got a name, and once it gets a box, I won’t be able to find the freaking thing (I’ve never been able to find the box – which makes it difficult to think outside it, since you have to know where inside the box is to do that).

Okay. Maybe I should just refrain from posting when brain-dead, overtired, or surrounded by teh kittehs (One of the pair is between me and the screen, the other one is on the top of my chair, looking down on me). Nah. If I did that, I’d never post.

Oh well. It is the Mad Genius Club after all.

Now off to surf that wave. Metaphorically of course. I’m not into actual surfing, what with the wonky sense of balance and all. Besides, just try finding a good wave in rural Pennsylvania.


  1. My sympathies. I know from teh kittehs. My little tuxedo guy has this habit of timing his climbing onto my chest and purring with when I’m trying to get out the door to somewhere.

    “Oh, Earnie. I don’t have time for this. OK. Maybe a minute or two.”


    1. Mark,

      That sounds SO familiar. Right now the fluffy one is alternating between my lap and my desk. The Bugger (yes, he EARNED that name) is off playing somewhere, but he’ll be back to his perch on my chair soon enough.

  2. Kate, what the “Human Wave Is” is a matter of debate but by my understanding of it, you’ll fit right in.

    Of course, you may disagree with fellow members but that IMO is what makes the “Human Wave” interesting. [Smile]

    1. Paul, she just doesn’t “get” that she’s a founding member. After all, what would any movement be without the Winch Wench? [VBEG]

    2. Paul,

      Thanks. I’m not worried about disagreeing with fellow members. I disagree with everyone sooner or later. I’m just not all that sure about a club that wants to claim me as a founding member.

      1. Kate, the “Human Wave” is about making reading fun to do. Your stories are fun to read.

  3. I strongly suspect Human Wave will be a spectrum, like autism πŸ˜€ Some people will be hard core Human Wave, others will use it as flavoring. Perhaps we can persuade willing reviewers to give books a non-Boolean rating, e.g. “Rated 6/7 Human Wave points for optimism, cool-beans science, and clever use of plastic explosives during a romantic interlude.” I mean, that’s what *I* would like to see in a review. Useful table of ingredients type stuff.

    (Just to be clear, *everyone* on the spectrum would get to use the logo, whenever the Human Wave Dark Council comes up with it…)

    1. Clever use of plastic explosives during a romantic interlude… Sabrina, where is that story? I want to read it!

      On second thoughts, maybe not. I can think of some seriously non-romantic ways to end said romantic interlude with plastic explosives.

      1. Let’s hold a contest! Short stories wanted, theme “clever use of plastic explosives during a romantic interlude.” 2000 to 5000 words. Winner may be selected for publication by a leading epublishing ring. Heck, I’ll bet we’d get lots of entries. And I know just the epublishers who might be interested in such a story, too. You know, that contest would be a real blast πŸ™‚

  4. Kate,
    This is what happens when you leave me alone for a week. If you go away longer — I’m WARNING you — I might become the leader of a political movement, take over the world or implode the galaxy. I make no promises. It would be safer if you don’t leave me alone.
    plastic explosives during a romantic interlude — YAY. And I think you have the right of it.

    1. Sarah,

      You know the rules. No taking over the world or imploding galaxies without me. It’s just not right.

  5. Teh kittehs, both a menace and an inspiration. Worst part is when they jump up and walk across the keyboard while you’re in the middle of writing. Mine, for some reason, likes to sleep on the keyboard or shove his hair up my nose. Now I know I’ve got a large proboscis, but is that any excuse?
    As for their being a box, I didn’t know I was supposed to keep the packaging the ideas came in so I threw it all away. Are you telling me the establishment is one of those people who, when they buy a new book don’t take it out of the Amazon box because they don’t want it to get dirty? Gee, no wonder they’re so miserable. [grin]

    1. Oh, yes… the hair up the nose and the kitteh butt in the face are among the “joys” of being owned by them. Of course when you’ve got an armful of purr, that doesn’t seem to matter.

      I think you’ve hit the establishment’s problem!

    2. The Calico of Doom seems to projectile-shed, a talent I would love to have. She’s sleeping on the other side of the room, and yet a fine rain of cat-hair drifts onto my keyboard.

      Hmm, I have at least two characters who would have way too much fun with plastic explosives during a romantic dinner . . . Dim lighting, excellent food, discrete service, and things that go boom. What’s not to like?

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