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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.

The always-entertaining nick_kaufmann is exposing a new writer's scam here with an appalling follow-up here.

Perhaps there is more money to be made in bilking starry-eyed amateurs than in publishing interesting stories. But that doesn't mean the practice shouldn't be fought.

Men married to smart women live longer:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/health/article6872519.ece

Edward Woodward is dead at 79.

A classy Brit actor who spent most of his screen time in supporting actor roles, he's probably most famous for Breaker Morant, which, with Judgement At Nuremberg, vies for the title of greatest military courtroom drama ever.

I first saw him in the Callan series in the 70s (which you really had to hunt for on PBS over here), a story of a veteran Cold War agent. It was very film noir meets John le Carré, but I liked Callan. He had a moral code, yet you totally believed his moments (and they did just last a fatal second or two) of cold ruthlessness. It was also hyper-realistic in its depictions of violence, not in a porny "Saw" manner but rather in what it does to people both in the moment and long after.

They adapted Callan (rather less than more) for American TV in the 80s. The series was called The Equalizer and I watched it religiously, but while it kept some of the cold grimness Robert McCall was a bit of a cross between Robin Hood and Sherlock Holmes and they downplayed the violent burn-out aspects that made Callan so fascinating.

Still, it was pretty dark for 80s TV.

He was in some of my favorite movies, including The Champions, The Final Option (aka Who Dares Wins in the UK) and, of course, the great original version of The Wicker Man.

I did briefly chat with him once. In Marshall Fields Oak Brook, of all places. He gave me a signed photograph, gentleman that he was. I still have it here in my library.

It was a typical Windycon in every respect but one. I've never seen so many theme-related costumes. The Steampunk crowd showed up wearing their colors ("steampunk is the Goths discovering brown") in force.

Saw many LJ friends, favorite vendors, and the Writers Workshop was another success. Had a nice break when we were invited for high tea with a few other aeronauts, courtesy of Lord (disputed) "Boom Boom" McCallister and associates.

( pics )

Mental Floss has a compilation of videos of dogs welcoming their deployed soldiers home.

http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/40324

If you can make it through three without tears pouring out of both eyes, you're a tougher nut than I.

In thanks, to those lying silently at Arlington and all over the world, row on row.

I received some gentle criticism for my first round of manuscript reviews at the OCWW. I was told that some thought my commentary overly harsh, and that I should do more to accentuate the positive I saw in the manuscript.

That's no way to get better, but okay.

For the record, I opened with positive commentary on the piece, and closed with positive commentary, and as I read I noted lines I really liked. I also praised the writer's courage for even submitting in the first place. Okay, eighty percent or more of the commentary was stuff that I thought needed changing or tweaking, but that's the nature of a critique. I certainly wasn't cutting or sarcastic. I don't even say whether I think it's publishable or not. I've never been in the business of cutting checks to writers and my professional experience is limited to sf/horror/fantasy.

I'd never tell anyone to give it up. Where someone is as a writer today might be just a baseline for improvements over the years. While naturally gifted writers exist, just as gifted musicians and gifted woodworkers and gifted gardeners exist, like all those other skills you can learn how to do it better in a bunch of different ways and create talent where none was evident and then hone that talent further. I'm the result of about thirty years of haphazard effort, irregular learning, trial, and error that can only be neatly expressed with exponents.

Nobody at the pro level puts much time into positive reinforcement. If I'm really lucky, when talking over a manuscript or reading editorial notes I'll get a "ha!" or two, or in rare instances "that's vintage E.E. Knight right there" but that's it. You take knocks in this business over your work. Most of us care deeply about it. I know that hurt. I don't just know it, I've slept with it. We've had weekends away together. When my ego deflates like a cheap tire, I can usually pump it back up in a day or two. The next contract is all the praise I ask for (though I happily accept it in any form, 24/7).

I know it can feel like a beatdown. I've been through several myself as an amateur. You'll learn, both from what the pro says and your own emotional progress in separating Self from Work. So if you get a chance to be critiqued by a pro, do it. Take a piece of leather to bite down on if you have to, but do it.

The Sprog turns six months on Friday. Which means he'll be starting solids.

To cake or not to cake, that is the question. Not for him, for us.

We went in Williams Sonoma over the weekend on a mission for baby food prep stuff and on a whim I picked up a new tin of tea, Harney & Sons "Paris" blend.

I've never been big on flavored tea. I like a haymaker of a tea taste, otherwise I'd be drinking chocolate or Italian soda or whatever if I wanted X flavor. I tend to load up on lemon and sugar anyway so I need something hearty to take the abuse. But this one was a very pleasant surprise. The tea is still there, though gentle. They've used a black that's very smooth and round in the mouth (maybe a Ceylon?). Strongest note is vanilla with some fruit from the Bergamot, but more subtle and less oily than an Earl Grey. The box said citrus but I wasn't tasting it, then again my taste buds are parboiled, wine-marinated, garlic-fried, over-spiced, and occasionally smoked.

This would be a great tea for people who don't like bitter teas or a delightful surprise for your friend who always sticks with a nice safe Lipton (I'm not knocking Lipton, mind, they make a superb tea and I ask for it in restaurants when I'm not sure of the other brands they have). When my tin of sachets runs out I'll be buying it in bulk.

I miss the days of Dennis Green's post-game microphone meltdowns.

Started my "Writing the Genre Novel" class at the Off-Campus Writer's Workshop up in Winnetka. They have a great group up there in John Hughes country, though it looks like they draw from all over Chicago. Close to 40 people attended.

I'm a bit sore-throated and shagged at the moment. I'm not used to talking for two hours (and those of you who know me know that while I don't mind doing presentations, it's not my comfort zone). I'll be doing this two more Thursdays but I'm looking forward to it. From what I've seen of the group's prose so far, they have some talented writers. They're also a friendly bunch. Next one will be easier.

That's always the way it is with me and teaching. The first couple classes are rough going, then once I get to know the students I'm a lot more comfortable.

Well, we didn't go out trick or treating, the little guy is just too young, but we did walk in Oak Park's annual Halloween Parade for the first time. It's a nice event for the real little kids, and their parents. We walked up Oak Park Avenue to one of the shopping districts and the kids got to go in and out getting candy.




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Like there'd be a doubt about how I'd dress him up. . .

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I received my WindyCon schedule. It's just Saturday stuff (I'm looking forward to wearing my Steampunk costume, it's inspired, even if I do say so myself). Sunday I'm doing the traditional Windycon Writers Workshop, but that's a private thing.

( Cut, for obvious reasons )

Everyone has guilty pleasures, and one of mine is Cameron's Titanic.

I'm a bit of a Titanic buff, going back to an elementary school reading of Lord's A Night To Remember (thank you, forgotten Washington Elementary Librarian for recommending it to me when I asked for books about disasters like the Hindenburg). Cameron throws in lots of little hat tips to Titanic historians.

On the rare occasions we watch it, I cry; Chats rolls her eyes. Which sounds weird, but should be no surprise to those of you who know us personally. But heck, I'd watch Kate Winslet pick her teeth with a Cosmo subscription card for two hours. Or at least I would, until she morphed into just another emaciated Hollywood blonde. But even I, sucker that I am, can appreciate the ad copy for the upcoming Rifftrax of Titanic:

On the cold, starry night of April 14, 1912, in the iceberg-infested waters of the frigid North Atlantic, a shocking and utterly disturbing event occurred. We’re referring, of course, to the sullying of a beautiful 1912 Renault limousine by Jack Dawson and Rose Bukater.

Yes, the film Titanic is less about the epic tragedy of the same name, and more about one of the most unlikely, unbelievable, and shortest on-screen romances of all time. She’s a gal from the upper echelons of society. He’s a guy from steerage. The ship’s crew would never let him roam the upper-class decks to meet her, let alone caress her lovingly at the front of the ship. And yet it happens, and we are the worse for it…

The original 5 hour version screened in test markets was a resounding failure. In that cut, Rose makes some room on the floating door, and Jack survives to marry her. Then we are treated to an over-hour-long epilogue in which they live together for many years in squalor and complete poverty, Jack scribbling cartoons for low-end skin magazines while wearing a grease-stained wife-beater, and Rose yelling at Jack that he should get a real job, lamenting the loss of her fortunes, and thinking she would have been better off at the bottom of the Atlantic after all.

Mike, Kevin and Bill hop aboard to bring you their most Titanic riff yet!

Oh, and may we add: Rose, Rose! Jack, Jack! Rose, this way! Jack, this way! Jack! Jack! Rose! Rose! Jack!!!

Looking forward to this one. Though we both wish they'd gotten Mary Jo Pehl, or at least Bridget, involved in the riffing.

I'm unhappy at missing World Fantasy this year. But there's a baby, the need to work on various projects, and we had a lot of expenses this year (new-used car, appliances, the Sprog's room).

It just wasn't in the cards, I'm afraid.

Next year, Columbus! It's even a drivable distance.

Picked up a book down in French Lick in a gewgaw shop devoted to turn of the century memorabilia. It's a Don'ts for Husbands book from 1913. While the technology and the references inside are dated, the advice itself was still very good, I thought. Just proves how true wisdom is timeless.



Here's a sampling of a few I found pithy and useful:

Don't take it out on your poor wife every time you have a headache or a cold. It isn't her fault, and she has enough to do in nursing you, without having to put up with ill-humor into the bargain.

Don't be too grave and solemn. Raise a bit of fun in the home now and then.

Don't look at things solely from a man's point of view. Put yourself in your wife's place and see how you would like some of the things she has to put up with.

Don't hang about the house all day if your occupation does not take you abroad. Spend regular hours in your study or "den," or go out and play golf; but don't inflict your company on your wife during every minute of every day. She is fond of you, but she wants to be free sometimes. And she has business to do, if you haven't.

Don't shelter her from every wind that blows. You will kill her soul that way, if you save her body.

Don't belittle your wife before visitors. You may think it a joke to speak of her little foibles, but she will not easily forgive you.

Don't think that because you can't afford to buy an expensive present, it is best to take no notice at all. The smallest gift will be appreciated if prompted by love.

Don't ever tell your wife a lie about anything. There should be entire confidence between you. If she once finds you out in a lie, she will not believe you when you do speak the truth.

Don't "talk down" to your wife. She has as much intelligence as your colleague at the office; she lacks only opportunity. Talk to her (explaining when necessary) of anything you would talk of to a man, and you will be surprised to find how she expands.

Don't think that it is no longer necessary to show your love for your wife, as she "ought to know it by this time." A woman likes to be kissed and caressed and to receive little lover-like attentions from her husband even when she is a grandmother.

Don't call your wife a coward because she is afraid of a spider. Probably in a case of real danger she would prove to be quite as brave as you.

Don't try to keep bad news from your wife. She will guess that something is wrong, and will worry far more than if you tell her straight out.

Don't try to be a Sultan. This is the West; and you can't shut your wife away from other men. Don't insult her by trying to.

Don't let all the economizing be on your wife's side. Perhaps you could do with a little less tobacco, or fewer cigars or cigarettes, or fewer taxis, if you tried.

Don't spend the best years of your life in thinking of nothing but money-getting. Enjoy your life to the full with your wife and children, and relegate money-getting to its proper place--necessarily an important one, but not the only thing to be thought of.

Anyway, much of it can be summed up with the Golden Rule, or plucking beams from one's own eye rather than criticizing motes in hers. Respect, togetherness in work and play, a certain amount of independence in business and social lives at times, and a joint front with the children. Solid stuff, even if a few of the expressions are dated.

Just got back from French Lick, IN (once served by as many as four trains daily from Chicago, almost to the doorstep of the hotels) where we went a-spaing. It's our first trip as a family. The Sprog was pretty good in the car, but got fussy after a couple hours so there were frequent stops for nursing and such. His gramma Nancy (my mother) is up for a visit and came along so we had an in-family babysitter while Chats and I were on the Road To Wellville.

I'll try and post a few pics of the kid and gilded age luxury in the next day or two, but here's some to get you started.

( usual file size and lethal cute warnings )

And yes, this resort is going to work its way into the Vampire Earth books. It's just too good to ignore with action going on in the Ohio river area. Plus it makes this trip (ahem!) research.