July 2008 Archives

I suppose it's time for a summary of the continuing saga of The Second Book, and I'm calling it that because at the moment I don't know which book is The Second Book.  That's a decision that will be made by a publisher, not me.

One candidate for Second Book is my children's book, The Amazing Q, which has been declined by several publishers, looked over by a trio of beta-testers, and is now sitting on yet another editor's desk.  It's a book that I began over 17 years ago and finished a couple of summers back, then revised a few more times to tighten up a few elements. I think it's pretty darned solid at the moment, so I'm hoping and praying that the current editor will see its appeal and pick it up.

Another candidate for Second Book is Student Exchange, which is based on an idea I've been kicking around for probably close to two decades, and which I finally put into book shape in a white-hot blaze last August.  I'm very happy with its overall shape and content, but it has given me some problems because it's not easy to categorize.  It's a fantasy--in effect, characters are magically transformed into super-heroes--but it's set in our own world, so it doesn't have that familiar pseudo-Tolkien feel that seems to attract so many publishers.  I wrote it with the idea that it might make a good Young Adult book (eschewing some potentially juicy sexual elements, for example), but I'm still not entirely sure it fits in the YA category, and that makes me wonder if it's actually an adult book that simply lacks sexual elements.  (Since it's the first book of a trilogy, those can always be introduced in later volumes...)  As a result of all this border-hopping, the editors and agents who've looked at it so far seem a bit leery about marketing it, and that's got me a bit uncertain about what step to take next.  Part of me wants to decide where it belongs and fit it into that slot, but a louder voice is yelling "Write the second #*(*&)@!% volume and worry about its genre later!"  I suspect I'll end up sending out more queries about Vol. 1 and working on Vol. 2 soon.

The third Second Book, A Raven for Doves, is another whose genesis lies in the distant past.  I've written a variety of short stories using the basic idea, but none of them found buyers, and when I decided to turn it into a novel a few years back, the idea scared me stiff.  (I think most writers are similarly scared; as one critic put it, each novel is essentially a novelist's attempt to learn how to write a novel.)  It's big, it's sprawling, it's probably science fiction, but I'm not sure it belongs in the SF category--again, that's probably a publisher's decision.  It describes a world completely transformed by a global plague, so it could easily go into the SF section, but the focus isn't really on the workings of the plague, but rather on the people affected by it.  In short, I could see it fitting in with Max Brooks' World War Z, in which a global war against zombies breaks out (and which seems solidly in the SF camp), or with something like Ann Ursu's delightful, thoughtful Spilling Clarence, in which a chemical leak leaves the citizens of a small town unable to forget (and which is definitely a mainstream novel using a SF trope.)  It's been considered by a couple of agents, but I haven't dropped it into a publisher's slush pile yet... mainly because, as I look at the most recent draft, it's in need of yet another revision--but at least now that I've re-read it again, I see where the revisions must come.  Maybe I'll spend August doing them.

Finally, there's the only one of these potential Second Books that is as yet unfinished: the saga of my ongoing attempt to spot a life bird in every state of the Union.  At one point it was called Fifty-Fifty, but lately I've been referring to it as Birdlands.  I've had one publisher turn the idea down, while another has given me at least a verbal agreement that if I were to get it written first, he'd publish it.  The good news is that the project continues regardless of how the writing and/or bookselling goes, and this past March I managed to check Nevada, Utah, Colorado, and Arizona off the list.  Added to my other lifer states (Hawaii, California, Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Connecticut, New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Florida), this gives me 21 states--I've got only 24 to go!  The bad news: Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, New Mexico, and in particular West Virginia have kicked my ass so far, so a number of return trips, a bunch of new states, and some serious heavy-duty birding still lie in my future if I'm to finish this thing successfully.

So:  What have I learned?  Well, in short, I've discovered that, in three out of four cases, it's far easier for me to WRITE The Second Book than to publish the dadgum thing.  I get the feeling that may be a problem shared by other writers, but it's hard to be sure.  I haven't had a good bitch session about the Second Book process with any of my writerly chums, so perhaps I should rectify that.

Or maybe I should find an agent.

Hey, maybe I could try BOTH.

But anyway, I appreciate the patience displayed by so many of you who picked up The Verb 'To Bird' five years ago.  I hope for your sake (and mine) that it will be rewarded soon.  In the meantime, you can always load this page to get a sample of PC writing for free.  If that cheap and easy alternative seems less satisfying than the more aesthetically and economically complex process of buying a book of mine... well, actually, I agree.

*Final score:

*One dumpster entirely filled before moving.

*A dozen trips to the new Goodwill store in Orange to get rid of clothing, books, furniture, and bric-a-brac.

*One old chest of drawers sold to the local used furniture store for $25.  We win!

*One nice thing about moving is that you inevitably have some things you haven't noticed in a while brought before you again.  In my case, it's been several books, such as Tom Carson's Gilligan's Wake (which I've been meaning to read for ages), Alan Moore & Kevin O'Neill's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Black Dossier (an enjoyable account of the later careers of Mina Harker and Allan Quatermain, though the prose sections are a bit dense for my tastes), and Connie Willis's sublimely hilarious Victorian time-travel romp To Say Nothing of the Dog, which I re-read with great glee.

*To say something of the dog--ours, that is--Harlan managed to make us crazy in the days following the move by demonstrating an intelligence he'd never shown the slightest sign of in his earlier days: somehow he managed to get out of the back yard, which has a five-foot-high chain-link fence around it.  This baffled us, and we dutifully inspected the perimeter for unnoticed gaps, checked the gates to ensure they couldn't be forced somehow, and generally stressed ourselves out trying to figure how a hound we lovingly describe as "lunkheaded" could suddenly turn into the greatest escape artist since Yorick Brown.  Turns out we were giving him a bit more intellectual credit and not enough athletic credit: I finally saw him run up to the corner of the fence, get a forepaw on either top rail, put a paw in the chainlink, and push himself over the top.

Luckily, we were able to come up with a way to keep him out of the two open corners of the yard: a pair of tall (six-foot-plus) iron hooks with a thistle-seed feeder sock dangling from each.  They're placed roughly four inches inside the corner posts, so he can't get behind them, and we're frantically knocking wood and praying that he can't go over the sides without the corner for extra leverage.  (You'll note that when Jackie Chan has to scale a wall, he always runs into the corner, too.)  He's still not being released into the yard without direct supervision, but at least now we don't have to keep him on his leash.

*The house remains, alas, internet-free, and probably will for the immediate future.  Our school IT guy is hoping that the cell tower just down the road from us will soon get a broadband fixture on top, and if that happens, we may be able to work a link to it.  Unfortunately, our choices right now seem to be paying through the nose for a satellite hookup with a substantial lag time, or going with (shiver) dial-up.  I think we'll continue to be patient and keep posting from campus.

*Now that most of the immediate unpacking has been done--the kitchen, bedrooms, and dining room are in useable shape, at least--I've had time to concentrate on something else: getting back to the gym.  I've done it three days in a row, and I can feel it when I go up and down the stairs.  I've also decided that I'm trying something different this time; I'm setting a tangible goal and a reward.  If I reach my goal weight, I get to buy a seersucker suit.  Hey, we have graduation outdoors on Memorial Day weekend, and the tree which used to shade the faculty has been cut down; clearly it's time to get an suit that's a little cooler than my current black/charcoal/olive options.  I may spring for the accompanying Panama (a true straw one, natch), but I'm not sure I can handle white bucks.

*One issue I never expected to have: I can't decide what to do about the music in this house.  In previous moves (1986, 1987, 1991, 1995, and 1999) the overriding principle has always been the same: take down the stereo last, set up the stereo first.  In the last nine years, however, our music technology has taken a major shift.  I'm now storing the vast majority of my music on my computer, which means the stereo is no longer the main means of listenig to tunes, which means it no longer needs to be set up first... and in fact, there's some reason to believe that (gulp) it may no longer need to be set up at all.  My Harman-Karden receiver/amp has done yeoman's work since early 1986, but its left channel needs repair, and the turntable desperately needs a new stylus as well.  We've all but abandoned our cassettes and LPs anyway, though we keep some stuff that's simply not replaceable (or that hasn't yet been translated to other media)  I never thought, though, that CDs might be replaced as the central medium of my music collection.  And yet, there most of them sit, still in their boxes, except for the ones we've been listening to in the car.... yes, I feel a great disturbance in the Force...

*We apparently have a juvenile Cooper's Hawk hanging out in the trees beyond the field behind our yard.  So far he seems to be making do with the neighbors' feeders, where Cardinals, Indigo Buntings, Goldfinches, and Mourning Doves have been the main species I've spotted, but I'm hoping he doesn't come after Renfield (the name my wife gave to the Eastern Phoebe nesting in our carport once she learned that their diet is largely insects.)  Oh, and there's a Carolina Wren nesting in a box in the yard, too--four eggs spotted so far.

*Tomorrow's plan: take Thing One to Culpeper for his driving test, emerge with his Learner's Permit in hand, dine at Chick-Fil-A (yum!) and go see The Dark Knight, which I'm seeing not entirely because I want to see the trailer for Watchmen, but yeah, I must admit it's part of my motivation.  Hey, I've been waiting for this movie for 22 years!  Give me a break!

I'm not writing speeches for President Bush, but for once, he's said something I cannot dispute in the least:

"And today, from Central America to Central Europe and beyond, people remember: in the dark days when the forces of tyranny seemed on the rise, Jesse Helms took their side."

Of course, I'm not sure W. and I would agree on whether "their" is supposed to refer to "people" or "forces of tyranny."

Back from the beach, with a new life bird (Wilson's Plover), a couple more books read (Max Brooks' World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie Wars and old favorite Flatland by Edwin Abbott), a new appreciation for Richard Thompson's musical genius (courtesy of the DVD of 1000 Years of Popular Music), a bit of a tan, and the same marriage I got into twenty-two years ago today.

Happy anniversary, Kel.

I don't know how I missed this.

Actually, I do; 1991 was the year I moved out of my hometown, started my first teaching job, and became a father, all by the end of September.  I missed a lot that year.

But that's no excuse for my having failed to acknowledge one of the truly inspiring bits of practical jokery/community activism/performance art of the last century.

Yes, in 1991, an ACT UP group put a giant condom over Jesse Helms' house.

And yes, POZ has pictures and video at the site.

I cannot begin to express my admiration.

Jesse Helms has died.

I suppose I could follow the old dictum of not saying anything at all if I can't say something nice, but speaking as a native of the town Helms once urged the state to put a fence around by way of creating a state zoo, and a graduate of the institution he called "the University of Negroes and Communists," I don't believe Helms ever followed that dictum himself.

I voted against him in my first national election--1984--and again in 1990, but I was unfortunately living in Virginia and couldn't vote against him one last time in '96.  That's one of the few regrets I still have about moving.  Jesse may have loved his state and his country sincerely, but that love is one of the only things we shared; soon after I acquired my first car (a 1982 Plymouth Horizon that my grandmother left me), I proudly affixed a sticker to its bumper with a caricature of Jesse and the legend "AYATOLLAH HELMS."  To this day, my guitar case bears a blue sticker reading "I'm from North Carolina and I don't support Jesse Helms."  He was in many ways the greatest embarrassment my state provided during my life there; I could be proud of so many North Carolinian things--Dean Smith, Tim McLaurin, Michael Jordan, Ben Folds, Charles Kuralt, you name it--but there was Jesse, a black fly in the Cheerwine.

Today is Independence Day, and I'm sure he'd have been happy to know that his death fell on the birthday of the nation he loved, however misguided I found (and still find) the political principles that guided him, but I can't help wishing he could have held on a little longer, say, until November, or better yet until January, just so that the man who beat Harvey Gantt partly on the strength of the legendary "White Hands" advertisement might have had to witness the sight of the President-elect laying his hand on the Bible for the oath of office.

A black hand.

So today, Jesse Helms is free of the earthly bonds that held him, and we are free of him.  And as we bid him goodbye, let's pray that this is the last Independence Day our nation will have to be bound to the racial politics that he exploited so expertly during his long career.

Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, we're free at last.

We are moved.

In the short term, this means little, other than that I'm utterly exhausted.  I started moving boxes to the new house last week; as it lies only about 1.3 miles from the old house, hauling a load of stuff wasn't a huge difficulty, but with nine years of crap to organize, box, load into the car, drive to the new house, and unload, the number of loads was a bit of an issue.  On Friday, my friend and new colleague John came by with his brother's pickup truck and helped me load some of the smaller furniture--bookshelves, chairs, a single bed--and haul it over.  Later that afternoon, I picked up a flatbed truck with a hydraulic lift gate (the single best idea in the history of moving technology) and with the help of several of Ian's burly teenage friends, we began loading larger stuff, including our bed, the piano, etc.  The burly friends spent the night in the Teen Dungeon (i.e. the basement) and we hauled over the remainder of the furniture and a lot of the smaller stuff on Saturday.

On Sunday we began the final pack-up of stuff and began the process of cleaning, but with the abovementioned nine years' worth of entropy to counter, cleanup began to grow into a larger and larger process.  We got up on Monday hoping to finish it off, but by the end of the night, we'd successfully managed only the upstairs and a bit of sweeping downstairs.  Kelly went in early on Tuesday to attack the basement, then sent me to buy the last load of cleaning supplies.

(Note: when your vacuum cleaner isn't working all that well, it's worth checking to see whether the bag is in fact half again as large as it's supposed to be.because of all the dust inside.  Replacing it with a new bag WILL make a significant difference in terms of suction.)

Kelly went in to work at noon, leaving yrs. truly alone with the downstairs bathroom (as yet untouched), the pantry (ditto), the kitchen (ewwwww), and the dining room, plus all the floors downstairs.  By the time Ian came wandering down the hill from work (he's working on the school's grounds crew this summer), I had cleaned the downstairs toilet and bathroom sink, vacuumed the studies, the den, and the living room, and was working on the kitchen countertop.  (Kelly, god love her, had done the fridge and oven already).  I put Ian on mop duty, vacuumed the dining room, cleaned the kitchen sink, scrubbed down a few problem spots, and walked out of the house at 4:00.  Exhausted, as I think I mentioned.

Long term: we have more bathrooms, we have a fenced-in yard (which so far has NOT successfully contained the dog... we're still working out how he's managed to escape), we have more floor space, and we have thrown away at least a dumpster full of crap.

But we don't have internet access.

By moving off campus, we've lost access to the school's T1 line, which kinda sucks.  We're hoping we can get broadband, but at the moment no broadband company reaches the new house.  Satellite is an option, but it will create a delay, one that Ian will probably not enjoy experiencing when he's playing World of Warcraft.  Dial-up is certainly a possibility, but a deeply slow and annoying one. 

In other words, I may not be able to write here regularly for a few weeks. At the moment, I'm writing from our local coffee shop, using their Dell, and hoping that I can muddle through the next little while without constantly logging on to check the election polls or follow the NBA free agent market.  If nothing else, I'll have few excuses for not concentrating on my writing.

Except of course, for that huge pile of boxes in the dining room that I've got to unpack.  But that's another story...