The Journal of Michael Merriam

Why does MLB have to move my beloved Astros to the AL? I hate the DH rule (Yes, I cheer for the Twins, but I'm an NL guy at heart). As a kid in Oklahoma my teams where the Texas Rangers in the AL and the Houston Astros in the NL (I still like the Rangers too, but the Twins are now my home team). Why MLB? I know you are trying to force a regular rivalry between the two Texas teams, but why not move the Brewers back to the AL (where they belong!) and have a rivalry with the Twins? Why are you doing this to me, MLB? Why do I stay in this dysfunctional relationship with baseball?

I am plugging away on the developmental edits. I should be done with this first pass by this weekend. I've hit a string of scenes that are on the chopping block. Some of them are going to be condensed and rolled together, a couple might get cut completely because neither I nor the editor are sure how they advance the story, and a couple look to be made obsolete during the next pass.

I sold a short story, "Memory," to Ray Gun Revival. It's another bit of space opera, something I write from time-to-time. I'm always pleased to find a home for these stories. For any of my stories, actually. I am always a bit amazed that when someone wants to pay me money for the things I write.

Though it was a tough day, with a household member being terribly sick, we all got through it. The snow outside was just enough to make everything pretty again, covering up the dirty muck. I have brownies in the oven and coffee at hand. I'm recording the BCS Championship game, and plan to start watching it in an hour or so. For the record, I will be cheering for the Oregon Ducks.

We have survived SNOWPOCALYPSE 2010! Which is more than I can say for the tired old Metrodome.

Hopkins, MN got 20.5 inches of snow. I suspect I won't see my patio again until April. I did manage go clear a path to the walk, and the home owners association has cleared the walks down to the streets. The car is safe in the garage, though careswen almost got stranded at her office yesterday. She rode the bus into the office to see her clients, thinking (rightfully) that it was safer than driving in the ever-worsening conditions, but then things got so bad Metro Transit stopped running the buses. And the Mall of America closed. This morning I made sure the vents and exhaust for my heater were cleared, and brushed the snow off the gas meter so it doesn't freeze. I do not plan on venturing out again today.

Received a pair of 8X10 prints of the cover art for Should We Drown in Feathered Sleep that I can use at my readings next year. I am also supposed to receive postcards to hand out and put on freebie tables. The Reverend Selena approves mightily of the envelope from Harlequin, and periodically perches on it.

I have reach a scene in my rewrite of Dead Brew that, I realized this morning, I am actively avoiding. I had glossed over a difficult phone conversation between Sharisha and her father, but I realized I need to write this out. I need this scene to show the difficult relationship between them, because Sharisha's difficult relationship with her family is a key element of this book. Sometimes it actually is okay to tell and not bother showing (sacrilege, I know, but sometimes exposition is your friend). This is not one of those moments. So I need to change this 900 word scene to something more, and I am dreading it, because I know writing this scene will force me to consider my own sometimes difficult relationship with my late father.

Oh well. The snow is really pretty in the bright sunshine today.

*sigh*

Time to put on my big boy pants and write this scene.

I thought this was going to be a contemporary rural fantasy, but it is shaping up to be magical realism.

I know the shape and form of this story now, can see it in my head, can feel what it should be, but am starting to fear that what it should be and what it will be shall end up two entirely different things due to my skill level. It is a vexing thing.

I added to a couple of the scene I had previously written, expanding on them, changing some language. I also wrote a scene that connects a pair of the other scenes and started two new scenes, though I am reasonably sure where they will fall in the scheme of things.

I have done very little today except work on this story, practice bass guitar, and pet the cat, which seems to me a pretty fine sort of day indeed. Outside, it is cloudy and cool. I can smell the grill of someone in the townhouse complex, making me want to grill out as well, though I haven't taken anything from the freezer that could be grilled. Inside, the Tigers and Rays are playing baseball on my television. Though I have given my allegiance to the Twins (in the American League, anyway), my family is a group of long-time Tigers fans, so I still follow them. Tomorrow, our gaming group is making a field trip out to the Minnesota Renaissance Festival. I own a really nice, really expensive doublet which I can only wear in certain situations, so yes I will probably wear it tomorrow.

I have some thoughts about my convention season this year, especially as it pertains to my disability. I suspect there will be more on this come Monday or Tuesday. For now, I need to start the dishwasher, prepare for dinner, get ready for careswen to return from class, and then maybe write more on the loon story.

I went bowling Friday night with a bunch of friends. My hand still hurts, but I had a great time. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy bowling.

Saturday careswen and I went on a date day, including lunch, ice cream, and a trip to paint-your-plate. We shall have a new teapot soon.

Today I'm trying to write like the wind, while The Reverend lurks above my head, sleeping the sleep of a cat. Tonight we plan on watching our latest netflix delivery, The Fountain.

Untitled Weird West Steampunk Novella


Back to work.

Congratulations to the New York Giants on one of the biggest upsets in Super Bowl history.

I woke up this morning to find I'd been nominated in three different categories in the Preditors and Editors Reader's Choice Awards. The nominations are in SF/F Short Story ("Nor to the Strong" in Ray Gun Revival), Horror Short Story ("Secret" in From the Asylum), and Author.

Huh.

The nasty ick has moved from my nose to my throat and lungs. Yeah.

I wrote my first 500 words of the new year last night.

On a positive note, I woke up hungry for the first time in since the day we flew home. I've been eating because I know I need to, but I've had no appetite until today. I'll take that as a positive sign.

The plan today is to watch the OU/West Virginia game I recorded last night, then settle in and work on rewrites, punctuated by occasional naps.

And now, a meme:

Man, Vancouver is just mauling the Wild tonight.

There's been a first car meme going around. Here is mine:



This is a 1973 Mercury Monterey. Mine was a faded gold color. It was big old tank of a car that could take out small trees (or mailboxes) and came equipped with the 429 interceptor engine. The speedometer went up to 140mph, and after I replaced the points, I discovered it would indeed go that fast. I once lost control of it on a gravel road (yes, I was going too fast. Like 65mph or something dumb like that), skidded off the road and smashed into the ditch. It knocked me out for a second, and when I came to, my windshield was covered in Oklahoma red-dirt. My first thought was that I'd died and they'd just dumped me into a grave, car and all, because I was obviously too stupid for a real funeral. The only damage was a slightly crumpled quarter-panel. It was a helluva car, and I have fond memories of it.

The short story collection is coming along. I'm going to pick the final stories in the next day or two and start putting the pages together. It's been a lot of work, and there's still plenty of work to go, but I'm having fun doing the prep work.

I'm listening to the World Series on the radio. I love baseball on the radio far more than on TV.

I use to listen to the Houston Astros, Texas Rangers, and Detroit Tigers on the radio all the time as a kid. One of the announcers for the World Series, Joe Morgan, was still a young 2nd baseman with the Astros back in those days.

I realized one of the big problems I've had this year as writer is that I'm not finishing anything. I finished the first draft Last Car to Annwn Station back in January. I finished a short poem in March. I finally finished a short story this month.

What I do have to show for this year is two different novels both at about 35,000 words and four short stories about half-finished. I need to focus.

My goal for the remainder of the year is to finish those short stories and get Last Car into submittable condition. It looks like I'm going to be unemployed in December, so if all else fails, I will use that month to knuckle down and finish my projects.

I also figured out that three different short story concepts I have in my folder could be rolled into one interesting story. If I can just find time to write it.

Man, Beckett is killin' the Rockies!

1. Carolina was just too fast on the ice for Edmonton to handle, at least tonight.

2. One of the drawbacks to having 16 pieces out on submission is that sometimes the rejections roll in fast and furious and you start to feel a little battered.

Kind of like the Edmonton Oilers.