The Journal of Michael Merriam

There is a frost advisory tonight. This makes me happy in ways I suspect many of you will not completely get. Bring on autumn and winter. They can't get here soon enough for me.

In honor of the wonderfully cold weather, I'm making curry tonight. Of course, this means I have the Vindaloo song stuck in my head as I'm cooking, but what can you do?

I just finished writing a scene in the Fey and Mage novella that involves a rather gruesome death. Yeah. Richard accidentally exploded somebody. Not at all pretty.

I laid down on the floor to get some fuzz-therapy after writing a nasty death scene. The Reverend obliged, but then sneezed on my face.

The Phantom Streetcar Novel is tentatively titled Last Car to Annwn Station. I don't love it, but it works for now. I'm beginning to seriously think that I may have to take a week off work, perhaps even a week in hiding somewhere, in order to finish the rewrite. As I said earlier: I can write first-draft in the various odds and ends of time I can squeeze writing into these days, but I can't work on the novel unless I have some time to actually work!

The chimney and fireplace have been professionally cleaned and certified safe for another season.

K, I need to go back to cooking dinner.

Peace and Curry,
Michael

I'm having a terrible time writing today, despite the fact that I know exactly where we are going with this scene, at least in my head. The trouble is happening when I try to translate it to words. It's getting all jumbled up and I feel like I'm trying to squeeze half-frozen epoxy out a narrow tube.

Some days the words come easier than others.

On a more positive note, I have hotel rooms for Minicon and WisCon reserved. I also sent in programming suggestions for Minicon. I've asked to do a reading again this year, as well as being part of a group reading with the Twin Cities Speculative Fiction Writers Network (gods, but that's a stupidly long name for our group). I may also be part of a group reading at WisCon, but I'm not the coordinating that event.

I've also managed some around the house stuff and a little bit of job hunting, sending out a couple of resumes and make a couple of follow-up calls.

Still, after four hours of work I have too few words. It feels like my day was a bust.

At least I remembered to take out the trash this morning.

Enchiladas and Spanish rice for dinner tonight. Maybe more writing to follow this evening.

Peace
Michael

Despite not feeling particularly well (sore throat, sinus problems, other things), I've managed get a remarkable amount of housework done today. Laundry, dishes, cat maintenance, general straightening, and I took down the card table we used to hold food during Saturday's gaming session.

I spent some time on the OWW as well, reading six stories and criting three of them. I need to prepare something to upload to the 'shop soon. I sent a query off the Weird Tales about a story they've had since February, I started working on a rewrite (I received a rejection from Between Kisses on a piece of flash. The editor said to expand it out and send it to his other magazine, Aoife's Kiss), poked at the Red Riding Hood in Space story, and read a bit.

The new mattress and box-springs come tomorrow. I'm excited. I'm doubly excited because I've slept like crap the four nights in a row and I'm thinking a new mattress might help matters.

I'm craving a cheeseburger, and not just any old generic fast-food bland-burger. I'm craving the kind of cheeseburger you find at little roadside greasy-spoons scattered all over the south. The kind of cheeseburger cooked by a fat old ex-biker with a dirty apron, three days worth of stubble on his chin, and a tattoo that says "Momma." The kind of place where the waitress wears one of those old classic white or pink uniforms, has horned-rim glass, and talks too loud. I want the fries to have been cut from a potato right there in the kitchen and I want the whole thing brought out to me in a little plastic red basket lined with wax-paper.

I want that kind of cheeseburger.

But I'm making stir-fry for dinner.

I'm 18,000 words into the pre-workshop revision. I keep vacillating between feeling like it is going to be good book, and hating it with the kind of hate I usually reserve for politicians and people who kick kittens. I do not love it with the love (or the luuurrve, for that matter), but that's not unusual for me. As long as I think it doesn't really suck, I'm doing alright. I will admit that at one point I thought it all sucked so mightily that no other writer could possible have any suck left to end up in their work, but then I read a paragraph with a couple of nice turns of phrase, and I felt better.

I also rewrote And A Song In Her Hair, working from careswen's edits. We talked about the story after she worked on it, and she came up with good thoughts about the story and how it plays out, as well as her usual Red Pen of Doom ™ goodness. There's no way I'll send anything out without her going over it first.

The Twin Cities Speculative Fiction Writers Meetup is tonight at Dulano's in Lynlake. 7pm, if you're interested. I'm going tonight. I really am.

Bad food story of the day. Last week I was in the local grocery store, picking up things I cannot get from Simon Delivers. I picked up a packet of Ramen Noodles, a foodstuff that got me through during my lean years. I don't know why I did it; maybe I was feeling nostalgic. Or maybe I lost my mind for a moment, but there it is. So, today I'm digging around looking for something quick for lunch, and lo, there are Ramen.

Now, I can cook. I'm actually more than competent in the kitchen; I'm borderline gourmet when I want to work at it, and I do all the cooking at home. But it's a drag to cook for one and, while I'm good in the kitchen, I'm also lazy, and perfectly capable of stoically eating the most boring stuff day in and day out.

So I cooked the Ramen. I cooked it like I did many years ago, adding chopped up hot dogs and whatever leftover vegetables I could find in the fridge. This is the classic recipe for Ramen. Anyone who's been broke and single, or read the Dork Tower Food Issue, knows this.

Yeah.

Some nostalgia is better left alone.

I need to go brush my teeth.

I've decided I'm not the only one who needs to reassess their diet and exercise routine. The Reverend Selena is looking a little tubby again. In fact, she looks a little like a fluffy house shoe with legs. Now, she is not a small cat, even when her weight is right. Her technical breed is American Domestic Shorthair. If there was a football league for cats, she would play linebacker. She's a big, tough, territorial, hunter-killer of a cat (ask any unfortunate mouse who has wandered into the house), with large powerful shoulders and a broad, square head. But she is also strictly an indoor kitty, so we have to work to keep the pounds under control.

I wonder if she would be interested in running the treadmill with me? No, probably not.

In Peace
Michael

No new writing since the last time I updated the meter, so no new meter this post. careswen and I plan to brainstorm tonight on a title for that urban fantasy/cyberpunk piece I'm trying to get out the door. I know where the novel is going now, as it turns the corner and I start the second half. The next novel in line keeps yammering for attention, and I've two new short stories waiting to be written. At least that part of life is moving along.

Last night's chicken enchiladas were a big hit. I forget sometimes that I'm a better than average hand in the kitchen. I have Mahi Mahi for tonight, but I haven't decided how to cook it. I might fire up the grill. I might poach it, cut it into little cubes, and toss it in pasta.

I think I have everything I need to take the math placement test. I've reviewed up to the last point I can actually remember previously leaning anything, and I suspect it won't do me much good anyway. I'm already tired and resentful of the placement test taking up time I could be writing, so screw it, I'm taking it on Wednesday and getting it over with.

I'd take it tomorrow, but tomorrow is That Day, and I suspect I might not be in a good place to take a test. I've been thinking a lot about That Day ten years ago, and the weeks afterward. I wish I wouldn't, but the brain has other ideas. I plan to ignore the news tomorrow. I might try to write. I might sit very still in a chair and stare off into space. I might pet the cat. I might wax the ceiling. I might talk to you about it.

But I won't be taking a test.

In Deep Peace
Michael

I'm starting to feel healthy enough to get back to work. I'm still plugged up and coughing, but I managed to sleep through the night last night. Today I settled in and tried to get my brain back into writer guy mode after two weeks of nearly nothing.

Word count: about -2000.

Yeah, that's right -2000 words.

I was looking over my older stories, ones that have yet to find a publishing home. A couple of them were so bad they shall never see light of day again, but others had a good story wrapped up in the writing I was capable of back them.

I have, reassuringly, grown quite a bit as a writer.

So I re-wrote three stories and tweaked a couple more. One story alone lost 1000 words, dropping it from 7500 to 6500. It is a much better story now, far more likely to find a publishing home. I might start working on the novel again tomorrow.

We have gaming tomorrow, wrapping up the campaign run by my friend S (WINOLJ), and deciding where to go from here. It has been a entertaining a run, and hopefully we can find something else fun to do as a group.

Another nice thing about being less sick is I feel like cooking again. Tonight was gumbo.

Be still my trembling heart.

Now, I love Minnesota. One of the smartest things I ever did was move here. careswen and I love this State, and plan to buy a house and stay awhile. But well prepared southern food is in my blood. Gumbo, jambalaya, blackened catfish, fried okra, hush puppies.

Sigh.

In Peace
Michael

Sent one story out the door yesterday. I have another story ready to go, but need to change the title, as the original one no longer fits, which sometimes happens to me once I start really writing something and it takes on a life of its own. Poked at the ghost story a bit, then started reading over the nameless novel in preparation of starting the second half of the book.

I heard today that Andre Norton passed away last night. Her books were some of the first SF&F I found as a youngster, and while I can't say that they influenced me greatly, they did entertain me to no end. While her passing is a sad thing, she lived a very long, very productive life. She was loved and admired, and she entertained and influenced whole generations of SF&F fans and pros. You can't ask for more than that, I think.

We will be at the Boiled in Lead show tonight at First Avenue. I originally didn't want to go. I prefer to go to their yearly Cedar Cultural Center show, but minnehaha K has made reference to the fact that "There Have Been Rumors," and I'm curious. I'm not worried out going out in the impending "catastrophic blizzard" that everyone (well, okay, mostly the chicken littles in careswen's office) keeps whispering about in trembling, fearful voices. We don't let weather stops us.

In other news: Arby's is evil. No really. We had Arby's last night and it was A)godawfulnasty, and B)able to make both careswen and I sick to our stomachs this morning. Add to that a migraine last night, and I'm a little out of sorts today. I'm still a bit headachy today, so I've got the shades down and am in troglodyte mode. I need this to go away before tonight.

The Reverend Selena must have a headache too, because when I did have a light on, she had thrown one paw over her head, as if to block out the illumination. She looks all cute and cuddly on the bed. I think I'll go bug her now.

In Peace
Michael

When I realized that this would be my 100th post I felt a bit of pressure. I should say something witty, or important. I can't just let post number 100 be a silly meme or some other trivial thing.

So I decided to talk about being on Live Journal. It seems reasonable after all to discuss what the little service had done for me, and it has done a lot.

First, it has given me a place to talk to people, without actually standing in front of a real human being. This has been helpful, because I tend to freeze up around new people. I can't help it, I'm painfully shy and awkward around people I've just met. In a weird way, LJ has helped me work on getting past that. By giving me a safe place to talk to people I'm interested in, it builds confidence in my own abilities to interact with people in the real world. This has helped me interact with people who I meet at, for example, Conventions. Other writers, editors, members of fandom, I want to get to know these folks, but I've always been so nervous and awkward and unsure. While I'm still quiet, I at least feel moderately comfortable in social settings again, most notable to me being the Twin Cities Speculative Fiction Writers Meetup, where I feel very comfortable talking to everyone. I'm still low-keyed in person, but I'm less of a wallflower.

Live Journal has also given me a good place to let people in my life know what is going on. My far away family can read up on my journal and see that I'm still alive. People can see how I'm dealing with the vision loss. They can read about our vacations and conventions. They can follow along as I try to wring a novel out of my system. Then, when I really do talk to them for real, the conversation can be more targeted, at least in what they want to know about what's going on with me.

Finally, LJ has been a good place for me to write down what's in my head (not unlike what I'm doing right this minute) and then sort through it.

So tell me, what has LJ done for you? Has it changed something about you? Made your life better? Sucked up too much of your precious time?

In news of the Michael, 600 words on Novel A, and some scene sketches today. Not too shabby, but I would have liked more. Wrote another 400 words on the short story Jenny's Magic and started getting ready to send four short piece out next week.

I still can't get the new laptop online. Even though there is a Nic card in the box, the ISP software refuses to recognize it. I think I might have an IRQ conflict somewhere.

Made a nice dinner of Alaskan Pollack baked with lemon pepper and garlic, shrimp scampi, penne rigate smothered in creamy pesto sauce, and garlic bread. I suspect that the reason careswen doesn't really want me going back to work is because when I'm home I cook more elaborate meals for no special reason. She's gotten use to having a cabana boy, err, I mean house husband, around to handle all those dreary domestic chores, which I like doing. Yes, that's right gentlemen, I enjoy doing housework.

So, there you have it, post number one hundred.

In Deep Peace
Michael

Friday night we had an impromptu gathering with pezwitch and williamofoccam for Chinese food, chocolate chip cookies, and a couple of rounds of Magic: The Gathering. careswen's Deck of Furry Squirrel Fury took the first round, then the boys beat the girls in a team competition. We love playing together, because none of us take the game too seriously, you see. We use whatever cards are at hand, from whatever editions, usually bought in a cheep bulk box from Shinder's, freely mixing and matching sets.

Saturday I made French Toast for breakfast. We spent the better part of the day hanging out at Kilted Koffee in downtown Minneapolis with some friends. The conversation was brilliant, the coffee good, and the place very nice. Saturday night we came home and I watched Oklahoma vs. Texas and Minnesota vs. Michigan, which I had recorded to DVR. Skipped all the commercials, analysis, and committee meetings. The game goes much faster that way. careswen disappeared into The Sims. She also made fire starters out of egg cartons, dryer lint, and old wax, and I read out of my Braille book.

Sunday we slept in like a couple of bums. Had French bread pizza for breakfast. Spent the day being lazy. I brought up the Halloween decorations from the basement, but got distracted when I ran across all the stuff from a Halloween LARP we ran a few years ago (Dead Man's Party, a.k.a. Vincent's Keger, for those who are curious) and never did decorate. Watched the Vikings, watched a program about Ghost Hunters, and studied Braille, not necessarily in that order. I made Alaskan Pollock with lemonpepper and basil, baked in butter and a dash of balsamic vinegar. careswen made a bonfire using her nifty new fire starters, and she talked on the telephone with her mother while I fed the pretty flames. More Sims, and a little revisions on some short stories. Reverend Selena was fuzzy. On the negative side, I've had a box elder a day in the house since Wednesday.

Discovered I actually have three novel ideas waiting around for me to finish Move Along Home, not just one.

Tried for a stress free weekend. Pretty much succeeded.

In Peace
Michael

Let all the people who read this Live Journal stand as witnesses to the fact that I, mmerriam am extremely grateful to mrissa and owe her a boon to be named later. She knows why.