I’ve been thinking for a while now that I need to write these down somewhere, and why not share it as well? Here is a list of all of the things we do as a family during the Christmas season. We don’t always hit all of them every year, but we do hit most of them.
Cut down a wild Christmas tree from the mountains (requires permit)
Decorate the tree together
Do the daily advent calendar, with scriptures for each day
Get a new framed picture of Jesus Christ
Gift one of our old pictures of Jesus Christ to a family friend
Writing group Christmas party
Neighborhood Christmas party
Watch Mr. Kreuger’s Christmas
Listen to Handel’s Messiah
Attend a Messiah sing-along
See the lights at Temple Square
Visit the SLC German Market
Buy something with the Giving Machine
Drive around our neighborhood to see the Christmas lights
Go caroling together as a family
Make bread to share with neighbors
Do the Vasicek extended family holiday book exchange
Do the Dollar Store gift exchange with the extended Armstrong family
Get a 2024 calendar and fill it out
Make a new spread in the family scrapbook for 2023
Write personal testimonies for the 2023 family scrapbook spread
That’s how the list stands as of right now. I’m sure we’ll add a few more things as the kids get older.
What are some of your family Christmas traditions?
It occurs to me that most of my posts in the past month have either been extremely doom-and-gloom, or they’ve been excerpts from some of my most recent work. This probably gives the impression that I’m huddled in a corner somewhere, black-pilled and traumatized, and seeking some sort of an escape through my writing, when really, that is not the case.
In fact, the main reason I haven’t posted more is because I’ve been so busy with life and family. It’s been a really great year for us, with a new baby and a bunch of cross-country road trips that have been a lot of fun. I’ve also been testing out a lot of AI writing techniques, and while that has really invigorated my creativity in a major way, it’s also taken me away from things like this blog, which is why you haven’t heard as much from me.
If I were still on social media, I have no doubt that I would be doom-spiraling right now, what with everything that’s happening in the world. Even without social media, I’ve been glued to the news sites I follow, checking for hourly updates on the war with Israel (which I really do believe is the opening stages of World War III). But that’s actually not very new for me: back in high school, I was the same way, following the news every day from the public computers at my school library. The 9/11 attacks happened on the first day of school for me, but in the last couple of months of the previous school year, I remember being frustrated that no one seemed to be taking this Osama Bin Laden guy more seriously, especially after the USS Cole and Kenya embassy bombings. Then the summer came, and I mostly goofed off, but as soon as school got started I was back to following the news on a daily/hourly basis.
So I’ve got a lot of experience with taking scary news in stride and not letting it totally consume my life. In fact, that’s the main reason I follow things like this so closely: so that when the unthinkable happens, I can face it without getting shocked or overwhelmed. And recent posts to the contrary, I’m not black-pilled at all. In fact, I tend to believe that I was put on the Earth at this specific period of time for a reason, and not just one that was imposed on me: that at some point, before I was born, I was given a choice between this and some other era, and I specifically chose this time to be born. Maybe I’m just imagining it, but it would not at all surprise me if that turned out to be the case.
In any case, we just got back from our last family road trip of the year, this time up to Coeur d’Alene to spend some time with Piper’s brother and his family, as well as my in-laws, who joined us on the trip. We had a really good time! Our daughter had a blast playing with all her cousins, especially the ones about her age right now. We also got to see her cousin’s baptism, so that was really good. Provo to Couer d’Alene is about an 11 hour drive, which is not quite far enough to justify getting a hotel, but for a 7 month-old and a 3 year-old, it was pretty hard. We’re all glad to be home now.
My wife is super busy working on her PhD. Specifically, she’s getting a paper ready for a major conference she hopes to attend with the rest of her lab. Her paper is on using AI to generate useful cross references across a body of work (eg Shakespeare, Jane Austen, The Bible, etc), and she’s developed a method that cuts down the cost of creating a cross reference set by upwards of 50%. But for the next couple of days, she’s going to be really busy with all of that.
Meanwhile, I’ve been taking care of the kids while the grandparents are on another road trip out to Omaha. It hasn’t been that bad, but I’ve also been pretty swamped with work, which one of the reasons I’ve been neglecting this blog. I have a bunch of ideas for posts I’d like to share, but no time to get to them, though hopefully that will change soon. Here are some of the posts I’d like to write:
A part 4 to my Navigating Woke-SF series. I recently had some experiences with the woke SF publishing world that have made me rethink things in a way that y’all would probably find very interesting.
An update to my generational cycles of grimdark and noblebright theory. This is one of the things I’ve been thinking about, and I’m starting to think that some of my basic premises in that post were wrong, or at least not entirely accurate, requiring an overhaul.
A lot of thoughts on AI and writing. This has been my main focus for the past couple of months, and I have thoughts. Many, many thoughts.
More thoughts on geopolitics and current events, especially on the trajectory of the unfolding global conflict and what it all means on a moral and spiritual level. But I think I should hold off on posting too much about that, since I’ve already spent so much time on it already.
Which of those things would you like to see next? I can’t promise anything, but I do want to spend more time on the stuff that followers of this blog actually want to read. In the meantime, I’ll try to intersperse a few quick update posts like this one, and get back into the habit of regular blogging.
So it’s been almost two weeks since I last posted anything, including any of the half-dozen or so short stories I’ve listened to that I feel are worth sharing. What’s going on?
We did just have a new baby less than two months ago, though that’s not been as disruptive to everything as I expected. My productivity actually went up after he was born, partially because of all the AI-assisted writing I’ve been doing, and partially because I’ve been working on the final revisions for Children of the Starry Sea, which are easier in some ways than writing the initial draft.
But I do think it’s the revisions that have thrown off my blogging, as well as the total lack of a routine. We’re gradually getting back into one, now that the new baby’s rhythms are becoming more consistent. As my current WIP project winds down—which is no small thing, since this is the longest novel I’ve written since I started publishing—I find myself in that weird between-projects state, where I don’t have any firm direction to guide my progress. Combine that with the total lack of routine that comes from having a new baby, and balls are going to get dropped.
Aside from this blog, though, I haven’t dropped too many balls. I’m still on track to write three novels this year, and should be able to pick up the next one without too much of a delay (since this is going to be an experimental AI-assisted novel, though, I may take a week or two to write a few short stories just to familiarize myself with the AI tools). And Children of the Starry Sea has actually turned out pretty well, in my (albeit limited) estimation.
So today I’m going to send this story out to my editor, moving it into the publishing queue. It’s already up for preorder on Amazon and the other sites that allow for assetless preorders. Then I’ll try to schedule a few blog posts catching up on those short stories I feel are worth recommending.
…and now the toddler just woke up, so I have to go. Another day in paradise, right?
I am so far behind on so many things right now. My in-laws went to Idaho for the week, so all of the childcare has fallen on us while they’re gone, and we’ve just been swamped. I know that there are amazing parents out there who can watch five kids at a time, by themselves, without breaking a sweat, but we haven’t leveled up that far yet, and our newborn and three year-old are really kicking our butts.
It probably didn’t help that I started a new AI-assisted short story about a week ago and became really engrossed in that for a while. It all started when I prompted ChatGPT to write a story about Conan the Barbarian in the style of Robert E. Howard. Let me tell you, if you want to get ChatGPT to break its own content guidelines in a totally awesome way, that is the way to do it! It gave me this awesome fight scene, and then this part about a slave girl, and then it got super steamy… and then I decided to delete it and start over.
So I started a new chat, with the prompt “Let’s write a fantasy adventure story in the style of Robert E. Howard,” and immediately it launched into a pretty good fight scene. Here is what it gave me:
The sky was blood-red as the setting sun cast its final rays across the desolate landscape of the wasteland. The cracked earth was parched, and the air was thick with dust and despair. In the midst of this barren terrain stood a lone figure, clad in tattered armor, with a sword sheathed at his side. His name was Roderick, a seasoned warrior who had seen many battles in his days.
Roderick had been on a quest to find the lost city of Xulthar, rumored to hold unimaginable riches and ancient secrets. But the journey had been treacherous, and he had faced countless obstacles along the way. His companions had fallen one by one, leaving him to brave the dangers of the wasteland alone.
As night fell and the moon rose, Roderick sought shelter in the ruins of an ancient temple. Its crumbling walls were adorned with faded symbols of a long-forgotten civilization, and its dark interior was filled with an eerie silence. Roderick’s senses were on high alert as he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors, his sword ready in his hand.
But he was not alone.
A guttural growl echoed through the air, and Roderick whirled around to see a pair of glowing red eyes staring at him from the darkness. A monstrous creature, half-human, half-beast, lunged at him with razor-sharp claws. Roderick swung his sword with all his might, but the creature was fast and agile, evading his strikes with unnatural speed.
The battle was fierce and brutal, as Roderick clashed with the creature in a deadly dance of steel and blood. His muscles strained, and his heart pounded with adrenaline as he fought with every ounce of his skill and strength. The creature was relentless, its claws slashing through the air with deadly precision, but Roderick’s sword found its mark, slicing through flesh and bone.
Finally, with a final swing, Roderick delivered a crushing blow to the creature, sending it crashing to the ground. Its red eyes faded, and its grotesque form transformed into that of a man, clad in ragged clothes.
As Roderick caught his breath, he looked down at the fallen man, who was gasping for breath, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. Roderick recognized him as a lost traveler who had succumbed to the dark magic of the wasteland, transforming into a monster. He had seen this before, a dark sorcery that twisted the minds and bodies of those who dared to venture too far into the forbidden lands.
Roderick’s heart went out to the fallen man, and he knelt down beside him. With his last breath, the man begged for forgiveness, his human form returning briefly before he passed away. Roderick closed the man’s eyes, offering a silent prayer for his soul.
With a heavy heart, Roderick continued his journey, pushing deeper into the heart of the wasteland. He knew he was close to finding Xulthar, and he could feel the pull of its ancient power growing stronger with each step he took. But he also knew that the dangers ahead would be even greater, and he would need all his skill and courage to overcome them.
As he pressed on, Roderick encountered more of the twisted creatures that lurked in the wasteland. He battled monstrous beasts and encountered treacherous traps, but he never wavered in his determination. He was a warrior forged in the fires of battle, and he would not be deterred.
Finally, after days of relentless pursuit, Roderick stood at the entrance of a massive stone gate adorned with intricate runes. This was it, the entrance to Xulthar. He could feel
Not too bad. A little rough around the edges, much like everything ChatGPT gives you at first, but I decided to work with it. I prompted the model to give me the story all the way from start to finish, and then, instead of simply copy-pasting, I decided to manually transcribe it myself, adding and editing as I went.
One thing led to another, and pretty soon I was 4k words into a short story that was taking on a life of its own. It bore only a loose resemblance to the material ChatGPT gave me, at least in terms of overall story structure. Over the next few days, I tried forking the conversation at a few points, copying what I’d written to see what ChatGPT came up with next, but it wasn’t keeping up very well, and I found myself using less and less of what it was giving me.
At the same time, the story was quickly turning into a novelette, and from there into a novella. In fact, it was ballooning so quickly that I realized I was neglecting my novel WIP, Children of the Starry Sea. So I decided to set the story aside for a while…
…except then it occured to me that I’m going to need a new novel WIP in May, and the one I had planned (Return of the Starborn Son) isn’t really outlined yet. I’ve been trying to outline it while finishing the revisions for Children of the Starry Sea, but haven’t made much progress on it, and it’s going to be a big one—possibly longer than Children when it’s done.
So I thought to myself, why not turn this story into my next novel WIP and work on outlining that instead of Return of the Starborn Son? With post-it notes and a dry erase marker (and some help from my toddler, who decided which color post-it notes to hand to me), I put together a basic story outline, which should come out to about 40k words when it’s done. As you can see, I used the window of my home office to put it all together, which was fun. 40k words is pretty short for a novel, just barely crossing the line over what SFWA considers a novella, but for a Conan-style sword & sorcery fantasy, it should be perfect.
I’ve also decided to make this an AI-assisted novel, using ChatGPT of course but also trying out Sudowrite, which looks like a much more useful AI writing tool. Getting ChatGPT to help you write anything longer than about 4k words is like trying to write on a whiteboard with boxing gloves on your hands. It’s going to be experimental, but I think I can turn it into something publishable in the next three or four months. It should be a fascinating learning experience either way.
So the reason I haven’t posted anything here in a little over a week is because we had a new baby! This one is our second, and he’s our first baby boy.
Unlike the last time, when Mrs. Vasicek went into labor around 7:30 PM and the baby was born in the early hours of the morning, she was scheduled for an induction first thing at 6:00 AM and the baby was born in the early afternoon. MUCH better way of doing things! He actually came out with the first push—the only reason he wasn’t born earlier was because the doctor was stuck in traffic, so we had to wait to start the active part of labor!
This was also our first time having a baby not in the middle of the pandemic, so we got to see the faces of all of our nurses and the doctor too, which was nice (last time, the doctor was practically in a hazmat suit with a face shield). They all got a kick out of the April Fool’s joke we played in 2020, convincing our extended family that we were going to name our daughter “Corona.” Everything went well, and Mrs. Vasicek and Little Buddy were released from the hospital the next day, which was nice.
So our lives have gotten quite a bit crazier, caring for this newborn and adjusting to all of the changes that come with that. My in-laws have been a huge help in making us food and watching our nearly 3 year-old daughter during this time, which has been really great. Still, any semblance of a routine has been shot to pieces, and it’s probably going to take at least a few weeks to recover from that.
Normally, my writing would take a huge hit from this… but I’ve actually been writing more than ever, using ChatGPT and other AI tools to experiment with writing AI-assisted stories. In fact, while I was in the hospital with Mrs. Vasicek, I actually wrote a 6k word fantasy short story during the slower moments. It was kind of funny, because just before Mrs. Vasicek got an epidural, I laughed at something funny that ChatGPT came up with, and she got really mad because there was someone in the room having joy while she was in so much pain. Then she got an epidural, and all was right with the world again.
As of right now, I’ve written five stories in conjunction with ChatGPT. The AI tools are still pretty clumsy at writing fiction, and they’re not masterpieces by any means, but they aren’t terrible either—and it actually takes quite a bit of work to make them not terrible, so it’s not like the AI is doing all of the work. One of these days, maybe I’ll do a blog post sharing some of my methods for writing AI-assisted stories.
I’m also working on the second and third rounds of revisions for Children of the Starry Sea, and it’s coming along nicely. It’s really good that I was able to finish the rough draft and first revision draft before Little Buddy was born, because I would definitely be swamped right now if that wasn’t the case. But these revisions are much easier to do, even in a sleep-deprived state: the second revision draft is all about smoothing out the flow of the narrative and making sure there aren’t any awkward transitions or loose ends, and the final revision draft is about polishing the writing on a sentence level and cutting about 10% of the words. Neither requires a ton of brain space.
So that’s what we’ve been up to out here. It’s going to take a while for things to return to normal, but we’re doing well, the baby is happy, the mom is tired but doing okay, and I’m just happy to be a dad two times over!
This is the ebook cover for Children of the Starry Sea, coming out sometime this summer! If it looks familiar, that’s because I kept the art from my earlier experiments with Stable Diffusion—the feedback was so positive, including from my writing group, that I decided to make only a few minor tweaks, such as the stars in her hair, and removing the weird watermelon-planet thing that was originally in the bottom left corner. Made a few minor changes to the typography too, though I decided to keep the fonts.
Also, you’ll be interested to know that I just finished the first revision pass of this WIP a few hours ago! I’ve been racing to finish it before the new baby comes, because it’s probably going to be touch-and-go after that. Now I just need to do two more revision passes, one to look for and clean up any issues that I may have missed, and another to trim it down by 10% and make sure the writing is all solid. After that, it’s off to the editor!
So it’s been more than a week since my last post. Don’t worry, I’m still around: it’s just that this blog is always the first ball to drop when I need to get things going. The post-holiday season was actually harder on us in a lot of ways than the holiday season itself, with insomnia, stomach bugs, and the like, but we’re getting back on our feet and doing pretty well.
The main thing I’ve been focusing on is writing, and I’m happy to say that I’ve been making very good progress these last few days. I’m trying out a completely new process, which I’ve blogged about a little, but I’ll have to write a full blog post on it once I’ve got all the kinks worked out. It basically involves hacking my ADHD to write more, in much the same way I hacked my ADHD to read more.
So yeah, things have been kind of crazy around here, and definitely more off-balanced than I would like. But it’s also turning out to be more productive, too—at least when our toddler isn’t throwing up and I’m able to sleep through the night. Happy new year!
It’s been a while since I posted to this blog. I had planned to keep a regular twice-a-week posting schedule, then went a little more than that for about a month before falling out of the routine.
We just got back home from a family road trip, where we drove out to Omaha and back again, making the Mormon pioneer trek in both directions. It was our first time going on a road trip with the baby, and we had a really fantastic time! Saw Chimney Rock, Independence Rock, Martin’s Cove, Sixth Crossing, Fort Bridger…and then we decided to go straight home, instead of finishing the trek with a tour of Salt Lake City. But that’s only a quick day trip for us, so we’ll probably do that soon.
It was a really awesome road trip, and definitely a good thing to get away and actually vacate for a while. But now that we’re back, I need to pick up some of the balls I’ve dropped and get back into the saddle. Writing is a high priority: I haven’t written hardly anything in the past week. Another big priority is publishing. I was supposed to put out a new short story single last weekend, but decided to put it off until we got back home. So that’s something I’m going to do right away.
I also want to get back into blogging. While on vacation, I DNFed a dozen books, most of them recent Hugo, Nebula, Dragon, and Goodreads Choice nominees. I have a lot of thoughts. Also, the 2022 Dragon Award nominees are out, and I’ve got to be honest, it looks kind of schizophrenic—which is exactly what you would expect to see with rival political tribes battling for control of fandom. But that’s been the case for the Dragons ever since the award’s inception. Again, I have thoughts.
Point is, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on, but I hope to get back into a good blogging routine before the end of the month. That’s the plan, and it’s not a lack of content that’s the problem: more just a question of routine. Expect to see more here soon.
I never know which posts of mine China Mike Glyer is going to pick up for his pixel scroll, or whatever he calls the daily bucket of chum that he feeds the folks over at File 770 (the ones who aren’t Chinese bots, anyway). I’ve written at much greater length about my 2022 reading resolution here, and my insights and impressions gained through the experience here and here, but for some reason the post he decided to pick up was the last one. Perhaps he thought that it would be better at ginning up outrage than the other posts? But if that were the case, surely he would have picked up the one before that instead. It was practically written for ginning up outrage among the File 770 crowd (or at least the ones who aren’t Chinese bots).
So when I got the pingback last night, I glanced over the post over at File 770 and saw this comment from Cora Buhlert:
I have to admit that whether or not writers have children is not a characteristic I pay the slightest bit of attention to. Never mind that it is difficult to tell, because even today, not every writer chooses to talk about their family or private life.
But I guess that Joe Vasicek is the sort of person for whom people without children, particularly women without children, are by definition evil.
Cora is an indie writer from Germany that I used to interact with a lot on the KBoards Writer’s Cafe, and some other indie author hangouts. She’s earned the ire of Larry Correia a couple of times, and she has a bad tendency to straw man any opinions or perspectives that challenge her worldview. On one thread, we went back and forth over whether Hitler was a creation of the political right or the political left. I tried to explain that “left” and “right” mean different things in the US than they do in Europe, but it was like trying to have a discussion with a brick wall.
So it doesn’t surprise me in the least that she’s completely mischaracterized me in the comment above. I do not believe that childless women are evil—if I did, I would not have served in the bishopric of a mid-singles ward (a mid-singles ward is a Latter-day Saints congregation of unmarried and divorced people in their 30s and 40s. I was the ward clerk—basically, the guy who handled all the finances and other paperwork for the congregation). My faith teaches me that people are not evil, but are all children of God, no matter who they are born to or what their life choices may be.
In fact, my interest in the parental status of the Hugo and Nebula winning authors has nothing to do with religion or morality, and everything to do with life experience. I didn’t get married until almost a decade after I had started to write professionally, and the experience of becoming a father was so completely lifechanging that it’s transformed my writing as well: what I choose (and don’t choose) to write about, who I choose (and don’t choose) to write for, as well as the themes and ideas that I explore in my books.
You can see this transformation if you read my Genesis Earth Trilogy. Genesis Earth was my first novel, but it wasn’t until almost nine years later—after I’d met my wife and was engaged to be married—that I felt I had the life experience necessary to write the sequel, Edenfall. And the final book, The Stars of Redemption, was not the sort of thing I was capable of writing until after I had become a father and knew what it was like to help bring a child into the world.
When my daughter was born, the very first thought that came into my mind was “this is her story now, not yours.” We all like to say that we’re the hero of our own story, and in a very basic way, that’s true. But when you become a parent (assuming that you’re a responsible parent, and not a scumbag), you’re no longer living just for yourself, but for your children. “He who findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.”
Having a child changes your perspective on everything. Among other things, you have a much deeper and more personal investment in the future, since you know that your child will inherit that world. Your perspective on your own family history changes too, as you have become a link in the generations, not merely a byproduct of it. Life becomes a lot harder, but it also becomes more meaningful. Things that took up a great deal of your time and attention when you were single suddenly become trivial, and other things that didn’t make much sense to you about people before suddenly click into place.
So that was why, when I decided to read all of the Hugo and Nebula winning novels, I was curious about the parental status of the authors. I wanted to know if the experience of being a parent had affected the quality of their writing, since I know it’s affected mine. And honestly, it’s not that hard to look up: almost all of these authors have Wikipedia pages with a section about their personal lives. Obviously, the details about their children are sparse, but the only thing I cared about was whether or not they had any.
(As a side note, there were other stats that I decided to track, such as the age of the author when they won the award. That hasn’t seemed to have impacted my taste, except that I have not enjoyed a single award-winning novel by an author who was in their 20s at the time that they won. The only exception was Isaac Asimov with the retro-Hugo for The Mule (Foundation and Empire), but that wasn’t awarded until after he was dead. There are also three authors whose age I was unable to determine from a quick internet search: Michael Swanwick, Sarah Pinsker, and Charlie Jane Anders.)
(As another side note, I’ll be the first to admit that I may have made some errors in my research. For example, if a five-minute internet search on an author didn’t tell me anything about their kids, I assumed they didn’t have any. It’s entirely possible that they just prefer to keep that information private. Also, I didn’t bother to look up when they had their children, so it’s possible that they were still childless at the time they won the award.)
Why should I be interested in this sort of thing? Why look at things like an author’s age, gender, or parental status?
Two reasons. The first is that I wanted to do a deep dive on the Hugos and the Nebulas, the two awards which represent themselves as representing the very best of the science fiction genre. Since that is the genre that I write, I want to understand not just the kind of books that win these awards, but the kind of authors who win them. The goal is to have a deeper understanding of the genre, and to look for trends and movements within it.
Second, and more importantly, I want to have a better understanding of my own reading tastes. All of this is subjective, of course, since the act of reading is always a collaboration between the reader and the writer. I’m sure that some of the books I think are terrible are considered by others to be the best in the world, and vice versa. My goal is to look for patterns that will tell me whether I’m likely to enjoy a book (or an author), so that I can find the best books more efficiently. I don’t do this for all of the books that I read, but since the Hugo and Nebula winning books are supposed to be the very best, I figured it was worth it to do a deeper analysis—especially since my goal is to read all of them.
The thing that surprises me is that it isn’t parental status that matters, but gender + parental status. I can think of a couple of reasons why this would be the case. The most obvious is that it’s easier for me to empathize with a childless man, since that was me for such a long time. And I do think that’s a major part of it.
But I also think that there’s something specifically about being a mother—or deliberately choosing not to be one—that’s also a factor. And yes, I’m talking about biological essentialism. I mean, I’m not a biologist, but I know that I will never be able to be a mother—that’s a life experience that I will never be able to have. Conversely, I will never be able to deny my potential motherhood, an equally major life decision. Both of those experiences are bound to have a major impact on an author’s writing, either way.
I also think this factor is what lies at the heart of Roe v. Wade, the worst decided Supreme Court case since Dred Scott v. Sanford. Certainly the cultural impact of that decision has profoundly influenced how our society views children and motherhood. It’s also why I am sooo looking forward to Matt Walsh’s documentary What Is a Woman? coming out in two weeks:
With all of this in mind, I find it fascinating that every Hugo Award for best novel after 2015 (the year that the Sad Puppies had their high water mark) was won, as far as I can tell, by a childless woman. It would be interesting to see if that trend extends to nominees, or to the other categories like best short story, best novelette, and best novella. Maybe I’ll look that up sometime.
And now that I’ve referenced Roe v. Wade, I’m sure that Cora Buhlert (if she’s reading this) is saying to herself: “yup, he just thinks that all childless women are evil.” And to the extent that File 770 is read by humans and not bots, they’re no doubt picking and choosing those parts of this post that confirm their prejudices (if China Mike Glyer even has the balls to cross link to a post that includes that trailer—do it, China Mike! I dare you!)
But I don’t really care either way, because now I have a much better understanding of my own personal reading tastes, and how they contrast with the Hugo/Nebula crowd. For me, the best books are those that are written by authors who have had the life experience of being a mother, and the worst books are by those who have chosen to deny themselves that path. Apparently, the Hugo/Nebula crowd takes the opposite view. Good to know.
Sorry for the radio silence these past few weeks. My grandmother passed away a couple of weeks ago, and we’ve been down in Texas, dealing with family stuff and the funeral. I wrote the following author’s note for my newsletter, and it seemed like something worth sharing on the blog, so I’m posting it here too. Hopefully I’ll be back to posting on a regular schedule next week.
In my last newsletter, I mentioned that my last surviving grandmother had recently passed away. We all went down to Texas for the funeral last week, and it went surprisingly well.
My grandmother lived a very long life, and her passing wasn’t unexpected. She had a stroke about fifteen years ago, and had also been struggling with dimentia. The last time I had a conversation with her where she remembered who I was was probably a decade ago. Thankfully, she was very well taken care of by my uncle’s family in Texas and a team of nurses who helped take care of her. She lived in the old family home right until she went into hospice about two weeks before her passing. The picture above is of her and grandpa, probably from sometime in the late 70s.
My grandmother grew up dirt poor in southern Illinois during the Great Depression. My grandfather grew up in a Texas Czech community, played football for the Los Angeles Rams and the Buffalo Bills (one of my cousins actually tracked down his rookie card, which goes for something like $600 now), and later went into the oil business. One thing I learned during this trip was that grandma was actually the one who gave him the idea of starting his own company when the firm he was working at went under. From what I understand, it was a difficult time to be in the oil business, but they slogged through the hard times and eventually did quite well.
From what I’ve heard, back in those days most networking was done at formal dinner parties that people threw in their own homes. Grandma’s house was apparently one of the premier places to have a dinner party, with a huge living room, a grand piano, wool carpeting, insane amounts of Waterford crystal, and a light with a dimmer back in the 60s when nobody had dimmers for their lights. She also had her own hobby business painting knick knacks, and had a whole bedroom full of them, as well as an insane collection of nativity sets, little glass angels, snow homes, and beanie babies.
So when we weren’t at the wake or the funeral or the interment, we were all basically going through the 60+ years of stuff that grandma acquired over the course of her lifetime, trying to figure out what to do with it all. It wasn’t difficult to imagine her smiling down on us as we went through it all, finding all sorts of unexpected treasures and divying them out.
There was more than enough for everyone to take what they wanted, including the nurses who cared for her the last fifteen years: even after we’d all gone through the crystal glassware and put our names on what we wanted, only about half of it had been claimed. So there wasn’t much fighting over stuff at all; it was all very much “you should take this,” “no, you should take it.”
One of the more interesting things was to go through all of the old letters that we’d sent her. She held on to all of them right up until her stroke. I found a bunch of letters that I’d written her while on my mission (and since forgotten about), and my sister found all of the ones that she’d written while in treatment for her eating disorder. It was good to know that she treasured those.
I also found my dad’s old mechanical typewriter, from back in the 70s! It needs a new ribbon, but otherwise seems to work quite well. At some point, I’d like to try my hand at writing the way Harlan Ellison used to write: sitting in a shop window with his mechanical typewriter, tapping out stories and pasting them onto the glass for passersby to read, one page at a time.
It was also fun to go through all of her spare change, which she’d accumulated over the years. Most of the coins weren’t all that old or interesting, but my wife found a 1905 Indian Head cent, and I found about $4 in junk silver, plus some old commemorative series. So now I keep one of grandma’s 1921 Morgan silver dollars in my pocket, instead of the 1 oz round that I used to carry.
This was my wife’s first time visiting Texas, so we took some time off the last day we were there to get some Texas Bar B Q and check out the Petroleum Museum. Interesting stuff. I remember my grandpa taking me there as a little kid, and seeing the diorama that depicts how the Permian Basin used to look in the Paleozoic period. The museum itself has been renovated since then, but they kept the original diorama, which was cool.
So that was basically our visit. The wake was a lot more formal than we were expecting, and we missed half of it because our baby got hungry and had to be taken back to the house, but the funeral and interment went very well. Standing there at the grave brought back some memories from when we buried grandpa back in 2003, just before my mission. Other than that, it was good to see everyone and spend some time together as an extended family.
It’s an interesting exercise to ponder the trajectory that our full lives take. Growing up in a broken home during the Great Depression, or during the early years of grandpa’s business when everything was so uncertain, I think that if grandma could have seen how things would eventually turn out for her and her future family, she would have been blown away. When I look back on the trajectory of my own life, I wonder if I’ll have similar feelings. We’ve been very blessed these last couple of years, even with all of the craziness that’s been happening in the world, but keeping up with the writing industry is still very much a struggle, and there are still a lot of uncertainties. But I’m confident that no matter how things work out, it will be for the best in the end.
Those are some of my current thoughts, anyways. How about yours? As always, thanks for reading!
