I have very recently been informed that what I am doing is vitally important, and should count as, if not a career, then a respectable detour. I’m still unconvinced I genuinely believe this (I certainly don’t grok it, but I’ve had confidence and perception issues for decades), but whether I do or not, this isn’t truly the issue.
What’s going on right now is that I’ve spent two days fighting with my children instead of writing. I JUST NOW spent nearly an hour building Lego instead of writing this post. Because the noise and wails when only one had a motorcycle.
I’m slowly coming to the realization that anything I want undamaged, anything from which I don’t want pieces missing must be cryosealed and buried, to be opened only after the last one has been unceremoniously ejected from all the Spaces That Are Mine.
I woke up this morning to see that the beautiful, wealthy people at the top of the American publishing scene are telling me publishing is doing well! Whew. That’s a load off. And here, I can’t actually remember the last time I purchased a hardcopy genre novel. I suspect it was before Wee Dave was born, for a couple of reasons. First, disposable income. Second, I don’t remember a whole lot of the last four years.
Ok, the truly entertaining part of John Sargent’s (CEO of Macmillan) comments wasn’t thanking President Trump for trying to block the publication of Michael Wolff’s magnificent work of fiction Fire & Fury. (I still think the POTUS’ mobilization of the DOJ – aside from being apparently juvenile – was mostly trolling his political and cultural opponents.) Oh, no. That’s what followed, where he pulled off his gleaming helmet, wiped his noble brow, and assured us he believes “free speech … is the greatest value” in publishing. Such a paladin. I’m so glad powerful businessmen are there to defend our rights. I just wish they’d do it consistently, since that’s what they claim to be for.
Okay, guys (and gals, and others, etc.) I don’t usually go this route, but I’ve been watching things unfold from the front row, and my harping on professionalism is coming ‘round again. In short: always be yourself, always be above board, and always be a professional.
For those who aren’t aware (just decanted from a cloning tube, released from cold-storage, or been rocking the mountain-top guru gig (nice work, if you can get it)), a couple of months ago, ConCarolinas announced that Friend of the MGC and all-around good guy John Ringo had been selected as an special guest for the 2018 convention, which just wrapped up this past weekend. The internet almost immediately kersplodeyed, and the crybullies mobbed in force. All the usual suspects came swinging all the usual epithets, and everybody else got tired.
It’s Tuesday afternoon, again (it’s not: I’m writing this to you from far in the distant past. Like, last Wednesday, or something. Maybe Thursday. Maybe both: hard to say) which means I ramble, and you all look askance at me.
It’s the little rituals that bring stability to life, y’know?
Today, our shared journey looks an awful lot like a blank page.
Good — *checks watch, remembers he doesn’t own a watch, checks clock* — afternoon, technically, though I’m writing this early in the morning (edit: and afternoon. More edit: and evening, for some of you. My apologies). A bit of an update. Mrs. Dave left this past weekend for a training thing for several weeks, and is likely spending most of the rest of the year out for job stuff. Wee Dave is displaying classic grief symptoms, while Wee-er Dave is very nearly her usual cheerful self. I’m mostly wondering who chopped several hours out of my day, while simultaneously making each hour three or four days longer.
Seriously, that’s kind of a jerk move, right there. I mean, I’m a time traveler, and all (greetings to you from the past, all who travel one second into the future, per second) but I’m having trouble grasping just why someone would want to do that to me.
Or, Don’t Be That Guy*
I’m taking a break from the War of Art commentary, today, to do something less topical, and more time sensitive.
This is a post I’m not terribly looking forward to. In part because it’s been handled many other places, by many other people. Most of them better writers than I. So far, though, they’re all talking about the event. Which isn’t really what I care about, per se.
Last night, John Ward, head of GAMA, and concom for Origins Gaming Fair disinvited Larry Correia as Writer GoH. Not with a phone call. Not with an email. Via a post on the con’s FB page (since deleted). Larry’s been left hanging, having paid for airline tickets to a con at which he’s no longer welcome.
So be it.
*checks watch* It was that time a few hours ago. Okay, so more than a few hours ago. Okay, so I’m late. Again. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.
As an aside, any day everybody in the house survives until bedtime is a GOOD day. I’m just putting that out there. I mean, it’s not like I was trying to write this post earlier with two toddlers demanding my undivided attention. Each, not together.
Anyway. To more writerly-important things: to the War of Art!