If there's a particular subject of interest, click one of the tags below and you'll get a list of relevant, irrelevant, and sometimes irreverent postings.






Want updates about the latest E.E. Knight releases? I send out broadcast emails through the social networking forum Knightreaders. I hate spam as much as the next guy, so I don't plan on doing much broadcast emailing.

There is also an E.E. Knight fan site on Facebook.

I think I complained some time ago that both our dishwasher and our oven (circa 1979 in a lovely shade of almond) picked the same week to poop out on us.

Since then, there's been some fun wrinkles to the story.

We decided to replace. I like to cook and bake now and then, and I wanted a nice stove with a powerful gas burner and convection. Plus, with the Sprog, we decided a bigger refrigerator was in order. We tried to buy from a nationwide chain, headquartered here in Illinois, that rhymes, appropriately enough, with "tears." They used to own a very high skyscraper here. I made one of my very first purchases "on my own" as a kid at Tears, and I've been a pretty good customer ever since. I like their tools especially, the line that rhymes with "Draftsmen."

Tears took my money very quickly, confirmed, and told me that I'd get a phone call the day before delivery setting up the time. Never got that call. When I called to find out what was up, I was told that they couldn't get the dishwasher we wanted except for a floor model in Maryland or something, so they canceled the order. The whole order. Salesman didn't even try to save it.

Which begat a mini-saga on its own. The canceling department is quite distinct from, and apparently never talks to, the "giving the customers back their money" department, and I had to make several calls, repeating the entire story from the very beginning. Tiresome business.



I did get my money back, many days later.

And lo, the experience with Tears begat an Quest for Appliances elsewhere. I decided to abandon the retailer I'd loyally purchased from over my youth and adulthood and go to a salt-of-the-earth local business. You know, one staffed by Jimmy Stewart and Donna Read and cheerful old besotted Mr. O'Hara from Gone With The Wind tying string around his finger, putting my money into Joe's house, so he could put his money into Fred's...

So I went to a place that rhymes with Rage, family-owned since 1946. They had a very nice selection for a smallish storefront, obviously the store had grown over the years and had all these corners and nooks and crannies, reminded me of the sporting goods store I used to shop in Stillwater where I got my first ice skates. They made me a good deal on a gas range (probably a better one that I'd selected at Tears) dishwasher, and larger refrigerator. Had to wait on the stove, as it would take "about a week."

You have to admire a salesman who'll lie to a customer like that, right in front of his wife and infant son. Smiled the whole time.

Well, my parents were over anyway and we were eating out a lot with them so after they'd left (two weeks from purchase date) I called. Turned out they couldn't get my range, but I could get an even better one if I picked something off the floor, that way it could be delivered right away. Gave me a great price on it too to make up for my difficulty, they were a couple hundred bucks below anything I could find online.

Delivery was all set for Saturday, and old salt-of-the-earth didn't show. Or call. Or answer their telephone.

I went over there Sunday over regular store hours and saw this:


The Rage phone puts you in this infinite loop of not getting to voicemail and then not getting to customer service. For those who want to play along at home, the number is 708-366-4200.

So I'm wondering if and when I'll see the four thousand dollars of my money they gladly took. I'm hoping Chase covers situations like this in all the fine print.

So, dear audience, what do you think? Does God want Chats and I cooking in the condo courtyard over charcoal and boiling the Sprog's bottles in an iron cauldron until we go blind from the lye? Is there a higher power at work?

If any of you know a Chicago-area appliance salesman who'd like to sell us a stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher, we'd love to hear from them. At this point, we're really easy to please. If you just take our money and put something in our house that allows me to cook, we'll be customers for life. If it's owned by someone resembling American Folk Hero Henry F. Potter (or even Nathan Arizona), who kicks ass when the exploited rabble in his establishment don't hop to it properly when serving customers, all the better.

The Sprog is eight weeks old! I can't believe it. It's going by so fast, I feel like he'll be asking for the car keys next week.






( Possibly lethal levels of cute behind cut... )

A few of the faithful showed up for last night's reading/signing, so I wasn't speaking to a bunch of empty chairs. For that I am truly grateful.

Also, several of them brought presents for me and/or the Sprog, proving it pays to have a blog.

Copyedits for Dragon Rule just hit. I don't have time for much more than a quick thanks. Two of the audience were college bound in the near future (David and Melanie) and I wanted to especially wish them luck. You're on the cusp of some very fine years -- just take your studies seriously (once you settle down after the riot of finding yourself freshman year, that is).

Sorry to go all Polonius on you.

Borders in Oak Brook did their usual terrific job supporting the event.

I just dropped my parents off at Midway. They had a wonderful time with their grandson. All is well in my life.

Winter Duty is on-shelf today. My folks are still in Oak Park, so I'm not doing too much running around to bookstores today (that'll be later this week). I do have an event at the Oak Brook Borders tonight at 7PM. I imagine it will be sparsely attended, so if anyone wants to show up to round out the crowd. . .

Looking back on these last five years and some ten months, I feel very fortunate. Thirteen novels. Six foreign languages. Audio. Even if I didn't have all that, I'd still count myself successful in that I'm still being published.

Of course it wasn't just me. Paul Witcover, my old editor at the defunct iPublish imprint, introduced me to a great agent. Fred Saberhagen, may he rest in peace, read me and offered a blurb. Some online webmags decided to feature me with interviews and whatnot. Other published authors lent me advice and emotional support on the pay-it-forward ethic that runs so strong among skiffy writers. I had editors who gave me a good start and a publisher that supported me with some successful marketing efforts. Award committees gave me their blessing -- along with a little plaque. I made the transition to hardcover with the VE series. While I still haven't rung any sales bells that have them popping corks at Penguin, most of them that ship get sold.

But there's something else. Otherwise they could do it for everybody. I think a writing career launch is a little like a cutting-out expedition from one of the fighting sail Hornblower books. The prowling frigate is looking to take the fat merchantman out from under the shore batteries, but it has to wait for just the right combination of wind, moon, and tide. Maybe it was a sharp cover look, or just long-enough lull in new post-apocalyptic fiction, or a title that hit the ear as a fresh melody against the rest of the stuff that was out in the fall of 2003. Anyway, I won an audience. Not big, but they are devoted. Roc can count on a certain number of sales when a new E.E. Knight title hits, and that ensures future work for me (and diapers for the Sprog). But a writing career is built on shifting sands, much like the tidal bars that merchantman hides behind. A career can wash away as easily -- or as laboriously -- as it's formed.

Though when you come right down to it, a tomorrow isn't promised to any of us.

All the more reason to enjoy today. So I'm looking forward to visiting my local store--hopefully at 10AM on the dot as they unlock the doors. Perhaps not as heart-poundingly breathless as when I first saw Way of the Wolf on the shelves, but it's still a floating-on-air sensation to see all that work bound up behind a dust jacket.

God I love this trade.

Chats, you may not want to click through. Very, very creepy babies.

http://www.retrocomedy.com/2009/07/15-creepiest-vintage-ads-of-all-time.html

(And for God's sake, keep the cap on the Lysol)

Very nice con. Though honestly, I spent the whole thing missing the Sprog.

Finally got to meet kendokamel face to face and she was delightful. Also spent more time with Robin Wood than I expected, which was cool because I went all fanboy on her over her Tarot deck (it is one of my favorites). Robin, kendokamel and gaming buddy bthepilot and I all had some food and drinks.

My parents enjoyed their first --and probably only-- con very much, but by the third day they were pretty shagged out, so we drove home in daylight. I bought my mom the nicest InConJunction shirt I could find as a memento, plus some Alien/Aliens patches for it (mom is a big Ripley fan).

I hope I made a new friend at the con: Eric from both the Planet of the Apes panels I was on (the con theme was time travel). He's in interesting guy in my age range who (unlike some people I could name, not necessarily at this con) only speaks when he has something informative to say about the subject at hand.

Returning home to my spouse and son was great.

Got a curt little email in my inbox this morning from the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America informing me that my membership has now lapsed, and to contact them as soon as possible.

Except, it hasn't. I renewed via PayPal a couple weeks ago and supplied them with all the necessary info as part of the transaction.

While I do enjoy the phenomenal, cosmic power of being able to issue Nebula recs, nobody I recommend ever seems to make even the preliminary ballot. Then I've hardly ever read all the novels on the final ballot, so I don't vote, being unable to make an informed choice. So my participation in the organization is minimal.

I'm rather tempted to tell them to shove. It's bad enough that they didn't process my renewal, getting a "contact us at once" email, with nothing but a "Hello" in the salutation, chaps my ass and I chafe easily.

Well, I'm sure you're all waiting with bated breath to find out just how awful Hobgoblins 2 was.

It was a meh. A little slicker than the first. Fewer scenes of cars being parked, sadly.

A bit puzzling though. There was Kevin and Kyle and Daphne and Amy plus Nick, and of course Mr. McCreedy, but even though the roles were same people/different actors all the backstory had vanished and they were meeting Mr. McCreedy and the hobgoblins for the first time.

No Club Scum, either. Just a strange psych hospital and plenty of continuity errors.

But the whole having this group of characters meet a menace that looks the same with slightly different powers left me cold. God, it would be like Luke, Leia, Han and Chewie a few yeas later taking on a slightly different Death Star, one that could only be defeated by flying to a different location to disable something and . . .

Well, maybe not the greatest example to prove my point.

I still say Kelley Palmer is the definite Daphne, though. I don't care if Emma Fargin' Thompson or Meryl Streep do the role next; it's hers, forever.

We were at Whole Foods (only our cats can afford to eat their groceries, we can't) and I was in the tea aisle thinking how dreadfully feminine all the packaging was. Soothing scenes of cozy corners and gardens full of irises and art of women curled up on throw pillows or hammocks. While all of the above is great, I believe there really needs to be a tea label for guys -- some utter fear-no-grapeshot-or-assegai badasses drank tea, you know. Old map parchment labels with rugged-looking stenciling:


Guns of Sevastopol
Iron Duke
Boston Tea Party (Actually, this is a real flavor from Mark T. Wendell teas.)
Special Air Service "Who Dares Wins" Blend
Northwest Frontier
Mad Dogs and Englishmen Midday Sun Tea
Mounties Always Get Their Tea
African Range Rover Engine Block Boil-up
Miyamoto Musashi Green Tea
Stalingrad Chai
Boxer Rebellion
Finest Hour
Lord Nelson's Overnight Hamilton Refreshment

you get the idea.

I mean, guys have Lifeboat tea and a Yorkshire blend with a picture of cricketers and that's about it. Sad state of the tea art, if you ask me.

As the countdown for the release date of Winter Duty really gets going, I'll post some fresh fan art now and then. The ever-intriguing "Nags" is at it again...
( Read more... )

If I ever get popular enough to do a "Vampire Earth Sourcebook" this kid's gonna make some money.

The reviewer is an admitted fan of the series, but it's still nice to get opinions of those predisposed to like your work:

http://www.bscreview.com/2009/06/book-review-winter-duty-by-ee-knight/

I went to see Logan's Run in the theaters just because it starred her. Much to my pubescent surprise, I found Jenny Agutter way hotter. Maybe it was the stainless steel choker. (She's still working on both sides of the Atlantic, I'm happy to see.)

Anyway, Farrah's looks and poster were iconic, even if her acting wasn't. I'm sad; a piece of my teenage years is gone.

I just learned that Paul Youll, who does the art for the dragon books, is up for a Chesley award (it's for fantasy and sf cover art) for the work he did for Elizabeth Bear's Hell and Earth.

Way to go Paul! He's a great guy and I'm glad he was nominated.

Had a very nice first Father's Day. Chats's dad came down from Wisconsin. The Sprog looked rather dapper in an outfit he's already almost outgrown, so I'm glad we got some pictures.

Our appliances, sensing that there's a new baby in the house, chose this moment to strike. As of eighteen hundred hours last night, we no longer have a functioning oven (though the gas burners still work) and lately the dishwasher sprays water about with all the intensity of a brief spring drizzle in Nogales. Not enough fluid to even melt the soap crystals all the way. And the vacuum tripped a circuit breaker, but it was only because we were careless enough to run a window AC while cleaning This Old Condo.

God knows what the refrigerator is planning.

...I'm not sure what would.

Hobgoblins 2 is coming out on direct-to-DVD Tuesday.

Yes, Rick Sloane found actors willing to wear coral shorts and gold spandex. Evidently this picks up shortly after the first one left off (with a younger cast), with Mr. McCreedy in a mental institution for blowing up the old studio. Shades of Terminator 2 I suppose, though I doubt the old fart will be doing chin-ups on his bed.

The original puppets are back. According to this interview, an actor foolishly asked if the were going to CGI in the puppets, so Sloane (Vice Academy) threw a rotting latex puppet at him and said "this is how they’re added to the film."

There must be something wrong with me, as I'm kinda looking forward to it. Though I do think redoing the garden tool fight is a bit much. Sloane strikes me as being deranged enough to come up with something equally strange that will allow Nick to humiliate Kevin. Bungee cord jujitsu perhaps, or kendo with two-by-fours ala a good bumfight.

( 20th Anniversary Cast Reunion behind cut )

Some serious smiling from the Sprog this morning. Before now they were brief, a second or two at most. Now he's just looking at me and smiling away...Hey, you're my daddy! There's mommy! See her, daddy? That's my mommy!

Wish there was more in the parenting books about how great this feels, and less stuff that causes to you lay wide awake at night fearing SIDS or flaws in the heart chambers.

I've been following the adventures of Flinx and his minidrag Pip from my early teens. I started reading about Flinx before I'd ever kissed a girl, and the final adventure, Flinx Transcendent, came about the time the Sprog was born. It's been quite a trek with one of my favorite continuing characters, created by the prolific Alan Dean Foster.

Foster may not be the kind of guy who attracts the Nebula or Hugo voters--I'm going to put in a Nebrec for Flinx Transcendent nonetheless--but I consider him on of the greats of SF/Fantasy and will happily defend that opinion. I'm almost always entertained and diverted by his novels. Sure, he's done a clunker or two, but haven't we all? I believe the only time his peers have recognized him is for his media fiction; he's been doing movie novelizations since Carpenter' Dark Star in 1974. I'd put his Commonwealth up there with any of the other great sf universes, and to be honest I'd rather live in the Commonwealth than the Dune or Foundation imagiverses.

For those of us first gen Star Wars geeks, we can't help but be grateful to Foster. He ghost-wrote the original novelization (who knew the controversy that would arise, at least among my little circle of buffs, from his little aside that Obi-Wan couldn't lie to Luke about the death of his father) and gave us Splinter of the Mind's Eye when there was nothing else out there.

One of the things Foster does well is the old gee-whiz, I'd like to do that! fun and adventurous side of sf. Whether it's bodysurfing on the back of one of the mantis-like Thranx or hunting a titanic Stavanzer using a medieval version of a WW2 human-guided torpedo, he usually works in sport or diversions that sound like cracking good times.

If he has a fault, it's deus ex machina endings where some ancient superweapon--the forgotten corners of the Commonwealth are littered with such things, thanks to the old Tar Aiym civilization and others-- lances a boil of Ultimate Galactic Evil, saving whole planets. But usually I've had so much fun getting there I don't mind, besides, that's what makes space opera.

I know Foster, slightly. He very kindly gave me some writing advice and encouragement before I was published. We've eaten pizza together and talked at the cons. Mostly about travel. That's his other passion. He treks to some of the more remote areas of the world getting a feel for the extreme environments he likes to put in his books. The guy's living a full, well-rounded, admirable life on all those royalties and media fiction contracts. I'd be happy to do half as well as he has.

What's next for him? Who knows, he's still got some years to go, I hope (born 1946), and is quite fit. I hope there'll be more Commonwealth novels. United Church Agent Kitten Kai-Sung and her web-footed partner Lieutenant Porsupah always struck me as having great possibilities (they were in Bloodhype, a novel usually put in the Flinx & Pip series even though Flinx is a secondary character).

If you've never tried him, dig up Icerigger. It was the first book of his I'd read and it's a good way to dip your toe into the Commonwealth. Out of print, sadly, but easy to find. It made me eager for more of his stuff. Or if fantasy is your bent, try Spellsinger, it's lively and humorous, the Marxist dragon Falameezar is one of my favorite dragons of all time.

Chats and I hit OP today and the Sprog had his first writing session with daddy at the Borders cafe. He was pretty good.

We've been putting him in disposables when we're on the road, so to speak, but we've had a lot of leak-through issues that we haven't had with cloth. I always thought cloth were less reliable in that regard.

Actually, this post is just an excuse to use the new "Baby Power" LJ icon I just created. That's the Sprog's fist, btw. Like it?