Here's some of the books, stacked in the hallway and waiting to be sorted through. It's a fairly representative sampling. Redlaw was picked up at a con; it's a good thriller reminiscent of Paul Cornell's London Calling. Nicola Griffith's Slow River is a book I hate to part with and I know there's a good chance I might reread it at some point but for now...out it goes. There's some issues of the Magazine of F&SF, and Lawrence Durrell's Clea, which was part of "I will improve myself as a writer" reading.One of the things 2014 is bringing is all sorts of interesting and awesome changes, but part of that is a need to trim down drastically. So I’ve been going through my books getting ready to sell a lot of them. Many are from teen years, college, or grad school. Others are gathered at cons, sometimes with stories attached. Some sparked stories, or were gifts from, or were written by people I respect and admire and sometimes love. Some are signed. Some have notes jotted in them. Some are books that changed my life.
So far I’ve winnowed 700 or 800 books from the collection and there’s still a lot left. Not to mention there’s a storage locker holding at least another 1000. Argh.
But rather than dump them all at Value Village, I’m taking these last days to sort through them. Because some of these books are old, old friends. So I’m checking them on Amazon (and finding a few worth unexpectedly more, which is nice) and listing all the ones for sale in a spreadsheet, with a few notes and a price. A few I’m putting aside to give to specific people. There’s two boxes laid aside already for my godchildren.
My plan with the ones for sale is to give my two best friends, my brother, and my mom first crack to see if there’s any they want. (Or any that are actually already theirs, in mom’s case, since the boundary between my mom’s books and mine has been pretty fluid from time to time.)
After that, time to see if I can get a little filthy lucre for them. I’ll offer to share the spreadsheet with my writing group, students, other friends, and anyone else interested. (Drop a line here if you are.) Lots of fiction, particularly short stories, a lot of Women’s Studies texts, assorted odd bits and interesting historical stuff. The usual round of books about writing.
I’ll be blogging about some of the books as I hit them. After this comes a similar pass at all the knick-knackery I have accumulated. Not looking forward to that too much, but there’s also a good feeling, a wind-through-one’s-soul feeling that comes with shedding stuff.
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"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."
~K. Richardson
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Thanksgiving 2014
Tiger lilies, because they're my favorite flower.Happy Thanksgiving to those of you to celebrate it; may the rest of you have a day also featuring pie.
I’m thankful for many things, and one of them is the past six months on the road with my splendid spouse, and all the adventures and laughs we had there. We put a lot of miles on the car. We kissed stingrays and fed hibiscus blossoms to three-toed sloths. We visited a lot of friends and family, and a number of roadside attractions. I’m very lucky to have had the luxury of that journey.
I’m thankful to have a home to return to, and to have all the things that so many lack: shelter, heat, food, clean water, access to health care, electricity, education. Grateful not to live in a war-torn country. And for all that I have beyond that, which is considerable.
I am, as always, thankful for my friends and family, both near and extended. For the chance to be part of a grand company of speculative fiction writers (including SFWA, which I am grateful for the chance to work with), some of whom have influenced me, others whom I hope I have influenced in some small way. I’m grateful for all the friends I don’t know yet, who I’ve chatted with online or tweeted at, but haven’t had the chance to meet yet face to face.
I am thankful for language and stories, and the gift I’ve been given in learning how to tell them. I’m grateful for new and wonderful stories, and re-reading others, finding them like long-lost friends. I’m grateful to be able to string words together in a pleasing fashion, and for the ability to appreciate it when others do it particularly nicely. I am grateful that I was able to write some good stories this year.
I’m grateful for this world and all its wonders, both of the heart and of the physical world. For the heroes and the volunteers and teachers and leaders and parents who keep the human race moving forward. I’m grateful for you, dear reader, and the fact that you take the time to read my words.
Goddess bless and godspeed. Have the happiest of holidays.
Nattering Social Justice Cook: Prepare to Ride, My People
To those who have said “wait and see” about the results of the election, I have seen enough events and phenomena to feel that I am sufficiently prepared to venture an opinion on the results of the election. Here are some, listed in random order:
I need to stop because the more I look, the more the hits keep on coming. What a bizarre time to live in.
So. For those of you who either didn’t vote for Trump or did and now are all “I’ve made a huge mistake“, aka the sane and/or informed ones, yeah, buckle up because it’s going to be a rocky ride. At best, a lot of wealthy people are going to skim money from our government while changing laws so they can exploit us even more while at the same time, hatred and intolerance are normalized and neo-Nazis are allowed to try to silence dissent. At worst our rights are stripped away and things go up in flames.
In my opinion. You may disagree, and that’s fine. This is what I think and what’s driving my actions over the next four years. I am going to speak up and object and point things out. I am going to support institutions that help the groups like the homeless, LGBT youth, and others whose voting rights have been stolen and whose already too-scant and under threat resources are being methodically stripped away.
I am going to continue to insist that honesty, tolerance, and a responsibility for one’s own words are part of our proud American heritage, the thing that has often led us along the path where, although there have been plenty of mistakes, there have been actions that advanced the human race, that battled the forces of ignorance and intolerance, and that served as a model for the world. That “liberty and justice for all” are not hollow words, but a lamp lifted to inspire us and light our way in that direction.
I will continue to love in the face of hate, to do what Jesus meant when he said hate the sin while loving the sinner. I will continue to teach, formally and by setting an example of what a leader, a woman, a good human being should do, acknowledging my own imperfections so I can address them and keep growing and getting better at this human existence thing. If I see a fellow being in need, I will act, even if it means moving outside my usual paths.
I will not despair or give way to apathy. And as part of that, I will celebrate the good, point out the wonderful, witness the absurd, the amazing, and even the wryly amusing. I will let my sense of humor buoy me, and I will continue to consider the alt-pantless, sorry, alt-right, petty, pathetic, and laughable. They know that they are. Writing in 1944 about anti-semitism in his essay Anti-Semite and Jew: An Exploration of the Etiology of Hate, Sartre stated things with a prescience that makes his words apply to their theater of outraged outrageousness, in which they prance around with the self-importance of bright preteens who have just discovered death metal and nihilism.
Never believe that anti-Semites are completely aware of the absurdity of their replies. They know that their remarks are frivolous, open to challenge. But they are amusing themselves, for it is their adversary who is obliged to use words responsibly since he believes in words. The anti-Semites have the right to play. They even like to play with discourse for, by giving ridiculous reasons, they discredit the seriousness of their interlocutors. They delight in acting in bad faith, since they seek not to persuade by sound argument but to intimidate and disconcert.
I will not be intimidated or disconcerted. Feel free to laugh at my naiveté, my over-earnestness, and idealism. I’m going to dance right past you, m-fers, and you will never know what hit you.
Language matters. Truth matters. Even in the face of this sort of thing:
The world is broken. Love isn’t enough to fix it. It will take time and effort and blood and sweat and tears. It will stretch some of us almost to the breaking point and others past it. We must help each other in the struggle, must be patient and kind, and above all hopeful. We must speak out even when we are frightened or sad or weary to the bone.
The millennials, may the universe bless them, are inheriting a shitty world. Those of us from older generations must teach and support and help where we can, realizing that what we do now affects the rest of their lives. We cannot let things slide into any of the nightmarish worlds we see depicted in so much science fiction, but if we do not act, they will. I will not sugarcoat things; it may be too late. But living as though it is not is the only way we’re going to survive.
Act now. Even if it’s just saying hello or smiling at someone that you wouldn’t normally. Start putting some good energy out in the universe to counteract the fog of hate. You’ll be surprised by how much better it makes you feel. Don’t pay attention to the trolls; they’re trying to keep you busy so you won’t act, to discourage you into slumping back onto the couch before you can even take a step out the door.