Feeding and Housing
There can be enormous difference between what a horse is supposed to eat, and what a horse will eat, given half a chance. One of my childhood horses ate a banana peel when it was offered. She was only supposed to sniff it, but apparently thought it smelled good enough to eat. I’ve also heard stories of horses eating cheeseburgers and drinking Diet Cokes, but most of a horse’s caloric intake comes from other, more normal sources. Read more
One of the things I used to strain about a lot was “authentic voice.”
No, I’m not talking about the mentally challenged idea you can only write the cultural background you come from, which is akin to the idea you can only wear Halloween costumes that match your external appearance. (I have a guest post about this on my blog today.) Why mentally challenged? Because it’s a confusion of genes and culture. Sure, they can be and often are coincidental due to the fact most countries in the world are tribal. But anyone who has immigrated and acculturated, and well… practically anyone in America, should be aware that just because they’re often covalent it doesn’t mean they’re the same. The idea they’re the same is actually incredibly racist and fuel for eugenics. So I’m not at home to that particular form of mentally challenged confusion. Read more
Hey, all! Sarah’s got things, and swears (upon souls mortal and immortal) she’ll have a post up as soon as inhumanly possible. In the meantime, it’s fandom’s favorite holy day (after Heinlein’s Birthday, pbuh)!
On the other hand, maybe it feels more like a busman’s holiday, as a professional costumer friend of mine put it, this morning. I know there’s a not-insignificant part of me that looks upon such things as an annoyance. I’d rather be working, but instead I have to spend all this time managing children, and candy, and expectations. What about you, treasured readers? Is Halloween a trick upon the working writing? Is it your Favoritest Evar Day(TM)?
I’m attempting to write this while sharing my headphones with Wee Dave. He seems to like metal. This does not displease me. Thing is. The thing is. I’m kinda contorted, here. He’s just a bit under four feet tall, and with him standing and me sitting in a chair, I have to bend sideways. In order to type, I have to reach my arm around him. And I have the background noise of the house in one ear. In all, it’s a pretty awkward way to write, despite the pleasant proximity to Wee Dave.
Or as normal as any writer’s life ever gets.
As you know, the last few months have been odd, to say the least, for the Green household. Mom’s shoulder injury and subsequent shoulder replacement has turned many things upside down. It drove home the point of just how lucky we have been she’s as healthy as she is at her age. It reminded me how much of the daily “putzing” around the house she did. It’s little stuff I tend to let go until weekends otherwise–things like dusting and picking up mail that I tend to drop onto the entry hall table, etc. Stuff that keeps the house looking good instead of letting it become a writer’s cluttered workspace. Read more
Argh. This diet is killing me. I made one of those classic mistakes. I complained to my Doctor. So he made things worse. I said I was tired and falling asleep onto my keyboard. Now, in part I was wondering if the black dog might be physiological…
Did he say: “Write a more interesting book” or “Go fishing” or “go diving, at least you’ll drown happy” or even ‘get more sleep’? Noooo! Instead he made me even more tired, giving me anemia. Well, taking away some of the precious, rare blood in my caffeine stream. Read more