Strangers entered our house some time during the day Wednesday. They came in through the front door with, apparently, a large crowbar, and really made a mess of the place. However, nothing seems to be missing except the tub, sink, and several walls, which are now piled in the front yard. At least they left us the toilet.
Having your only bathrom renovated is remarkably stressful. For the last couple of days I’ve felt like I haven’t been able to take a proper breath (or a shower).
Word count: 3209 | Since last entry: 1660
A thousand words today on the werewolf story. (Did I mention I’m working on a werewolf story?)
A sale! “Galactic Stress” to Mike Brotherton for Diamonds in the Sky, an online anthology of stories demonstrating astronomy concepts. It’s not the most literary story I’ve ever written, but I hope it helps some students understand just how freaking big the galaxy is. Thanks again to Elise for the title.
An email from Wordstock, “Portland’s Annual Festival of the Book,” acknowledging that I will be a speaker this year. According to the Oregonian, this year’s festival will have a focus on popular genres such as SF, mystery, and graphic novels.
A Google search reveals that “Titanium Mike Saves the Day” has been translated into Czech, in the Summer 2008 issue of the Czech edition of F&SF.
We attended a delightful Al Stewart concert, which Kate has blogged about.
I attended a workshop (well, it was more of a talk with extensive Q & A, but still worthwhile) with monologist Mike Daisey. He had some interesting things to say about how and why he does what he does, and some of it was applicable to writing, especially the four questions he asks himself when he’s creating a new show: Is it essential? (Does it cut to the essence of what you mean to say?) Is it disruptive? (Does it shake up the status quo?) Is it cathartic? (Does it take the audience to a place they could not have reached on their own?) Is it broken? (Art should be broken; if you polish off the rough edges it is no longer compelling. Don’t be a good student.) We also talked a bit about Nikola Tesla, and I went to the library after the workshop and checked out a book on Tesla. I feel a Tesla story trying to sneak up on me, but it will have to wait… after I’m done with the werewolf story I must must must edit novel #2 and get it out the door.
I’ve been reading an old Pogo collection. When I was a kid I hated it, but I know a lot of Pogo fans, so I thought I’d give it another try. Turns out I just wasn’t sophisticated enough for it. It’s sharp, witty, topical, and yet humane, with a keen ear for dialog, and just tons of fun to read. I’d thought it was a surreal strip like Krazy Kat, but apart from the boat (whose name changes from panel to panel) it’s extremely linear; even the little bugs and worms in the background have their own consistent stories (and some great little side gags) from panel to panel.
And one bit of bad news for balance: the lenses of my glasses were getting kind of scratched up, so I had new ones made (covered by the warranty on the anti-scratch coating) and I just got them today. Unfortunately I think there is something wrong with the left one: an area of distortion and bad focus like a tiny black hole just a little below and to the left of center. I hope they haven’t sent the old lenses back yet.
“Titanium Mike Saves the Day” has been translated into Czech, in the Summer 2008 issue of the Czech edition of F&SF. I also just learned that the same magazine translated “Tale of the Golden Eagle” back in 2006.
I sold short story “Galactic Stress” to online anthology Diamonds in the Sky.
Word count: 1549 | Since last entry: 1011
Kate was off at a knitting workshop most of the day (and also succeeded in getting a third iPhone — this time for sure!). I stayed home and wrote. I wasn’t as consistent as I would have liked (AIM is seductive) but I did get a thousand words down. More tomorrow.
Word count: 538 | Since last entry: 538
We’ve seen some amazing things at this year’s Time-Based Art (TBA) Festival. This is TBA’s sixth year and the first year I’ve attended. In the past I looked at the glossy, over-designed festival program and figured it was too artsy. I was partly right, but partly wrong. Friend Janet Lafler explained to me that it is, in effect, the Portland Fringe; it’s full of amazing theatre, interesting lectures on architecture and urban planning, and hands-on workshops. There’s also weirdo performance art, tedious ballet, and strange art-like installations, but you don’t have to attend those. I’m sorry I waited this long to try it.
Here’s what we’ve seen so far:
MONOPOLY!, a monologue by Mike Daisey (probably best known for 21 Dog Years, a monologue about his time staffing the tech support phones at Amazon). This performance wove together the game of Monopoly, filming a training video with Bill Gates, the life of Nikola Tesla, one town’s surrender to Wal-Mart, and trying to create a one-man show about Tesla featuring a giant Tesla coil. Not all the pieces really fit together, but it was absolutely hilarious. At one point, when Daisey was describing Microsoft Word as being like a neurotic ex-girlfriend, the audience was laughing so hard we couldn’t even hear him, but his waggling fingers as he described how Word fiddles with your text just made everyone laugh harder.
A lecture by historian Carl Abbott and architecture critic Randy Gragg about the history of Portland’s South Auditorium District, which is simultaneously an urban renewal horror story (54 blocks of Italian and Jewish neighborhoods were torn down in favor of office parks and condos) and an urban renewal success story (three of the world’s finest parks were created). Lots there I didn’t know, much to think about.
The Portland tour of Tilburg. Okay, picture this: lay the map of the town of Tilburg in the Netherlands over the map of Portland. Now take a group of 30 tourists across Portland on a walking tour of Tilburg, hitting all the major historical and artistic sights, pointing out interesting features of the cityscape, and discussing the impact of urban planning and new development — all without leaving Portland. Our guide Khris Soden started us off with a brief lesson in Dutch, then led us at a brisk pace across “Tilburg.” He described a sculpture while gesturing at a parking meter, then opened an invisible door to allow us into a Tilburg shopping mall that in Portland was an ordinary street. (We were provided with booklets of photographs so we could see the Tilburg streets we were walking along, but they were optional.) It was a fascinating exercise. It was like watching one movie while listening to the soundtrack of another. It was a unique way of getting a real, physical understanding of another city, including its size, the relationship of its parts, and its overall “feel.” And after TBA winds up, he’ll be jetting to the Netherlands to present The Tilburg Tour of Portland! See Khris Soden’s web page for more on this fascinating tour. Note that the pictures in the “Greetings from Tilburg” postcard are actually pictures of Portland and vice versa.
On Saturday I’ll be attending an extemporaneous autobiographical monologue workshop with Mike Daisey, and on Sunday we’re going to an Al Stewart concert, which isn’t part of TBA but should still be very cool.
Meanwhile…
Word count: 4560 | Since last entry: 689
Finished up the story I started on Sunday (it’s titled “Galacic Stress,” and thanks again to Elise for that) at the coffee shop tonight, and sent it out for a real quick critique. It’ll go in the mail tomorrow.
Went to dinner afterwards with Jay, Karen, and Carole, where I managed to emit three witticisms in quick succession that literally left Jay speechless. He immediately blogged the first one, right there at the table, and the third one was “Did I make milk come out your nose? You aren’t even drinking milk, are you?”
None of us can remember what the second one was. But it was a good’un.
Word count: 3871 | Since last entry: 3299
Today started off at Rejuvenation, the lighting and house parts store, for lighting for the bathroom. (Me to Kate: “I want to go to Rejuv today.” Truly, we live in a science fiction world.) Demolition on the bathroom is currently scheduled to start on September 17 and we have to have all the lighting and other accessories in hand before then.
Shopping trips to Rejuv can easily take all day, but in this case we already knew pretty much what we wanted and we were back home, with lamps in hand, by lunch time. (All but one fixture, which will be shipped later this week.)
In the afternoon, while Kate went online in search of towel rods, toilet paper holder, and other such oddments, I sat down to work on a story inspired by something I’d learned at Launch Pad. This one really has to be in the mail this week, and although I started it yesterday, I only made about 500 words yesterday and I was concerned that I wouldn’t finish in time at that pace.
I needn’t have worried. I wrote almost 3300 words today (even with a trip to Rejuv and making dinner). That might conceivably be a personal record. I think this was possible largely because I’d already thought the story through quite thoroughly; also, it has a linear plot, only one real character, and is based on science stuff I already know pretty well (though I have a couple of web pages open for reference). As literary fiction it’s pretty thin, but I think it will work for the target market.
Now I need to come up with a plausible climax. I know what has to happen, but not exactly how. I don’t doubt I’ll finish tomorrow. The question is, should I even try to get a quick critique before I send it in? It would have to be 24-hour turnaround, and I don’t feel I can impose on my critique group as I haven’t been able to attend a meeting lately (nor will I, until October.)
To bed now. More writing tomorrow.
Finished editing the magic lesbian plumber story and put it in the mail. Also finished putting the labels and stamps on the mailed copies of Bento #20. Also went to the gym, had lunch with a writer friend, and did some other errands.
I had a humungous list of to-do items when we got back from Denver. It’s now almost two weeks later and I’ve gotten most of the stuff in the “do today” and “do this week” sub-lists done, and part of the “do next week” list. I knew at the time the list was insanely ambitious, so this is reasonable progress. Still much to do before we leave for Farthing Party, a week from today.
One of those to-do list items is to blog about a contract issue. I mentioned this issue at lunch with some newer writers during the Worldcon, and they suggested that I ought to blog it as a public service announcement.
A while ago I got a contract from a market I’d never sold to before. It included the following clause:
Author hereby agrees to indemnify and hold harmless Publisher against any cost, loss, damage, expense and judgment resulting from any breach of Author’s warranties and representations herein, including, without limitation, any settlement payments and attorneys’ fees and expenses, costs and disbursements.
Can you spot the problem?
At first glance this seems harmless (you should pardon the expression) enough. It means that if I, the Author, mess up and violate the warranties set up earlier in the contract — that is, if the story is not original, or is not my own work, or has been published before, or contains slanderous or libelous material — it’s my fault and not the Publisher’s, and I have to pay the damages.
The problem here is that the clause is missing the magic words “action finally sustained.” As written, it enables the Publisher to respond to anyone who comes to them with an unsubstantiated claim like “this story of the Author’s sends out klystron radiation that sterilized my cat!” by saying “okay, here’s a million bucks” and it’s the Author, not the Publisher, who has to pay it (plus attorney’s fees and expenses).
Of course, you don’t expect the Publisher to actually do that. But one of the rules of contracts is that you have to assume that the moment the contract is signed, both you and the Publisher will be hit by a meteor and the Publisher will be replaced by your worst enemy in the world. The purpose of contracts is to protect both sides from anything like that.
So. Adding the magic words “action finally sustained” means that the Publisher can’t just settle any random claim using the Author’s money. It means that you only have to pay out if the claim stands up in court.
I responded to the contract above by suggesting the following new language:
Author hereby agrees to indemnify and hold harmless Publisher against any cost, loss, damage, expense, and judgment in any action finally sustained resulting from any breach of Author’s warranties and representations herein, including, without limitation, attorneys’ fees and expenses, costs and disbursements.
The Publisher accepted this change and thanked me for suggesting the new language.
The moral of this story is to read and understand your contract, look for the magic words “action finally sustained,” and don’t be afraid to negotiate.
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