So now … there’s a short story I want to write this week, and then I will attack the book again in the re-write. I’m actually looking forward to that since I figured some things out on the first pass I want to bring forward a bit. And I still like the story. The ending could make more sense, but the spine of the thing is intact. It was a lot of fun to come up with since it’s just a fun adventure story, sort of a cross between a Planetary Romance, and a Space Opera (and yes, there is a fine distinction there). NOT hard sci-fi by any means.

I celebrated by doing several loads of laundry, during the course of which I went out to the garage to switch loads and stepped on a pretty big piece of glass from something the cat had knocked off a shelf and lacerated my foot badly enough that it required stitches, not to mention a tetanus shot. Yes, I am the one person alive who can injure themselves doing laundry. But it’s fine now. Still hurts like a mofo, but the doctor said I hadn’t hit the artery or severed a tendon, which I had not even realized were possibilities. Note to self: wear shoes in the garage because when you are carrying a huge basket you tend not to look down at the floor.

And while I’m glad this draft is finished, I don’t want to get too happy because there’s a lot of work left to do, and it would be easy to lose track of it here. But this is the draft actual beta readers will see (recruiting now!), so that in itself will be motivating. I think I might dole it out chapter by chapter to see if the whole serial-cliffhangery structure is actually working.

So, one draft down, probably many more to come. But it’s there, the story. Let’s hope it can start to make sense somewhere outside of my own head.

Both of them had a lot of adds from dating websites. Not just a few, A LOT. Like three of them every commercial break. Match.com seems to love Food Network. With Syfy , it’s mostly from eHarmony, probably hoping the geeks will approach the Hari Seldon-like mathematical formula, and Chemistry.com, which has, as its main selling point, that they will accept you when eHarmony won’t. Insert your own joke here, but I’m still waiting to see a spot from loweredexpectations.com (MadTv fans will get that one. The rest of you can move on).

What does this mean? Are both of these groups, as a whole, in NEED of these services? Does no one else see the opportunity here?

Let’s get the foodies and the geeks together. They have a lot in common anyway. Both have an obsession with things normal peopple would call ephemera and like to play with toys (trust me, my action figure collection had nothing on my wife’s obscure, it might peel a potato, it might make James Bond tell you where the chip is, kitchen tools). Both worlds have their own celebrities that aren’t recognized by the rest of the world. Best of all, their skills are complementary. Most geeks are awful cooks (molecular gastronomists not withstanding), and most foodies could reeeaaallly use help with their computers.

I propose we combine Comicon with Taste of San Diego, and let nature take care of itself. Think of the awesome snacks we can have at the D&D parties of the future.

Don't ask me what the lolcats are about all of a sudden. Just cuz, I guess.

Some things I am happy about as a new year begins

I sold a story last year, Jadeflower, coming out in the Destination Future anthology from Hadley-Rille books. I am really happy with this one, still. It’s not just that I still like the story, but I had a great experience working with editor Z.S. Adani, who took the thing in its raw form and really helped me form it into something I’m proud of. It was my first heavy editing experience, and she set the bar a little high for me. She made suggestions (all of them excellent), but let me be the one to decide how best to implement them, and I appreciate all her hard work and, let’s be honest here, her hand-holding.

I won Nano (yes, I already wrote about this)m and found a great group of online writer friends through both the Nano sight, The Night of Writing Dangerously, and Twitter. I feel much more connected to that world now, which can only help me fine-tune my skills. The Night of Writing dangerously also taught me how much the people in my life care about me and really do want me to succeed. I’ve always been a little embarrassed about my aspirations, not being the kid of person who talked a big game and never made it happen. This year I realized I could be all about the work, but still share my goals with others, and it was a good feeling. Maybe I just needed to get over myself a little bit (I know!)

And the Calculus of Hope is almost, almost done. Hope to have the first draft in the can by Jan. 16th so I can start attacking it with a scalpel and some spackle.

I got myself to the point where I am ready to get my tech certifications and start seriously looking for a job, and at the same time have a little bit of an opportunity to do some freelance tech support here in my area for actual money. Had my first real “service call”, solved the problem, and got paid, which felt really weird.

And probably the most important thing has been realizing what an awesome woman I am married to. Seriously, any right-thinking person would have gotten tired of my act a long time ago and totally booted me out the door. This might not do much to recommend her reasoning skills, but I’m happy about that anyway. Coming off a mixed episode at the end of last year, she very literally probably saved my life. She doesn’t get a lot of credit for the things she does, supporting my ass being just one of them. She was totally the reason % had success at Nano, not only being my fundraising director for NOWD, but making sure I had the time and space to do the actual work. To be honest, I wasn’t even going to participate in NOWD, but she could tell I wanted to and insisted that it happen, making a lot of sacrifices over the course of that very long month to insure that it WOULD happen. She’s a person of strong will, and I tease her about being a type A, but without her, I would probably just bounce off one wall after another before offing myself in some bizarre, accidental face plant. She should totally list spazz-wrangling as one of her skills on her resume. Lost in my own head most of the time, I don’t do a very good job noticing these things, let alone expressing my appreciation, but for some reason she still loves me, and I really, really love her even though I don’t express that in any way that approaches adequacy. Changing that is my only New Year’s resolution.

So, happy New Year, everyone. As I said before, the bar is low, but I really do expect better days ahead.

But Lego-land was fun, if a lot less lego-y than I had expected. It’s not like I expected the rides to actually be made out of legos, but still. There were some cool things there, and the kids had a lot of fun. My favorite thing was the place where you could build lego vehicles and then race them against each other on this cool sloping racetrack. I immediately started making plans to build one and install it in the living room, but this was voted down, so I contented myself with the lesson that winning at lego car racing is all about weight and balance. Maybe the ramp will go in the backyard, but then you have wind resistance to deal with.

ok, so maybe it’s not just the kids that are into legos. I am getting to make a corner where we can take all the legos and put them in the middle of a big table so we can keep them there all the time, because as you all know, it’s frustrating to get started on a big lego project and have to move it, because the sections always come apart and by the time you’re done getting it back together, you’ve lost a couple of crucial pieces and maybe even the entire design plan anyway. so …. win!

We’d planned to hit the SD Zoo as well, but on New Year’s eve, the drewnami got really sick (all over the rental car too) so we took it easy and just went to the beach. And once he was done being sick, it hit my poor wife at the exact worst possible moment. We can wholeheartedly recommend the kindness and helpfulness of Southwest Airlines flight attendants.

So that was how the West Coast branch of the Grayson family spent New Year’s. And I feel sorry for my poor wife and son who had to endure it, even as I kind of don’t even mind. It’s a longstanding family tradition for there be at least one hospital visit per holiday. We stayed out of the hospital this time, but I already had New Year’s covered from an incident ten years ago. My son helpfully launched himself over a barbecue grill last year (freak not, it was off) on Groundhog’s day.

And during all this, while standing in a stealth long-ass line at the Bionicle roller coaster, a story I’ve been knocking around inside my head sort of woke up and told me what it was and how to write it. And it was then I realized that if I’d only had my phone with me (it was in the backpack) I would have been able to jot it all down right there. Turns out Kate is right, I SHOULD have my cell phone on me at all times. Who knew?

So happy New Year to you all. 2009 sucked. There were like, one or two good things that happened, but the rest of 2009 can go do unnatural things to itself. 2010 — the bar’s pretty low, so no pressure, m’kay?

The other wonderfulness was the Night of Writing Dangerously, held at the Julia Morgan ballroom in San Francisco on Nov. 22nd. This was an amazing night. Gorgeous setting, incredible company, and a massive community spirit that actually spurred most of us on to produce a LOT of work. I wrote 5300 words just that night.

This whole experience has made me a bit wistful, as I remember my own younger years, both as a teenager and a young adult. I was writing. I loved it. My parents were supportive (even buying me my first subscription to Writer’s Digest, which left me with no rainbow-tainted illusions about how hard this was going to be). But I felt pretty much alone all the time. I didn’t fit in, I hated my hometown, I felt like a total freak 24/7. I know this feels like this to everyone, but I can only imagine how comforted I would have been if I’d been able to reach out across geographic regions and find out I wasn’t the only person in the world like this. Being in a room with hundred of people just like me, with the same weird compulsion … it was awesome, and just a little scary.

All of that creative energy, imagination, and, yes, delusion in one room … it’s either the best thing that could ever happen, or extremely dangerous to the world. And the fact that it was all to benefit a program that reaches out to kids like I was … it was a pretty moving thought.

I also managed not to get mugged and knifed while walking through downtown San Francisco back to my hotel while carting a laptop, so I’m counting that one as a win as well.

So, I would like to take this time to thank Valerie and John, Lisa and Rodney, Kim and Jake, Lisa, unfocusedme, Larissa, Lisa (a different Lisa), Alex, and, of course, my Mom and Dad, the people who sponsored me for this event. It meant a lot on a lot of different levels.

The novel still isn’t finished, but it’s within spitting distance. And so far I still like it. It’s surprising me in all the right ways, and I feel the narrative is still pretty strong and hasn’t gone pear-shaped. Yet.

So, onward? I guess? Yes … onward.

His kindergarten teacher was wonderful. She was whip-smart and had this really effective mix of warmth and firmness.

Enter first grade. Full stop. He basically has not been able to do anything right the entire year. My wife and I have tried to be really supportive of the school, and his teacher has tried to work on being more positive with him, but it’s getting a little ridiculous.

Case in point: He has math work he does at home and in class. Maybe this is the way they’re teaching it now, but with almost every math problem they have to draw a little picture. 5 apples + 3 apples = 8 apples (someone should probably check my math there just to be sure). They’re supposed to draw and color the apples as well as write out the “number sentence” (an aside: why are we not teaching kids the actual math terms and using fuzzy stuff like this?) Well, Drew looks at this and immediately says 5 + 3 = 8, and writes out the number sentence. He grasps the concept. Why does he need to take an extra five minutes and draw the apples? It just frustrates him.

So, the next night, the homework comes home for corrections which are all, basically, DRAW THE PICTURE. This is stupid. He does not need to draw the picture. He needs to move on to other things so he does not get bored.

I know elementary school math programs now are all about this kind of stuff, making it more “arty,” and supposedly “fun.” But for kids who get it, its just frustrating, and reinforces the whole, “Can’t do anything right.” thing. My daughter’s fifth grade math text was all about little pictures and tricks and listing and she could do all of that but didn’t have a grasp of the fundementals, so we switched to Saxon, a math program with no frills, all fundamentals.

At the beginning of this year we wanted to be so supportive of our son’s teacher that we unwittingly sent him the message that we were not on his side, we were on hers. Well, fuck that! I’m on his side, and he needs to know that. And if my kids teacher starts to think I’m a little bit of an asshole because I’m going to the mat on this stuff, well, fine. Kids need what they need and he needs something different. I’m not asking the school to provide that something different, just to get out of my way.

And don’t even get me started on the yard duties who let the boys be teased and tormented by the girls but don’t hesitate to bust a boy who steps out of line, because anyone who’s ever worked around kids knows that totally happens.

Anyway, i’ve been thinking a lot about this kid lately after the months of sturm and drang regarding the other. It’s the opposite problem, really, but just as important mostly because he is really smart and if he gets frustrated and decides to devote his powers to evil in revenge for his unhappy primary school experience we are all screwed.

So, please, please, please, please sponsor me. And you are encouraged to come to the event in costume. The theme is Noir. I promise to go in costume and have embarrassing pictures taken. And yes, all right, posted.

Here’s the link to my fundraising sight. All donations are tax deductible.

My cousin telling me, “Hey, my kids have seen that!”

The CPS worker totally ignoring my subsequent report.

The fact that I feel like I am trying to get the swine flu, but somewhere along my body is refusing to commit to it, and I’m just left with this annoying chest rasp/cough/headache combo that doesn’t even get me any sympathy and doesn’t even give me a workable excuse to take a nap.

Tom DeLay on Dancing with the Stars. The horror, the horror.

The “I want to sex you up,” dance number on Glee.

The fact that I have two dance-related traumas on this list now.

Festival Season in Northern California (actually, it’s ALWAYS festival Season in Northern California).

Tiberius trying to catch up with Caligula in the girth department.

The Predicate Adjective/Predicate Noun worksheet in my daughter’s Language Arts packet. It’s fifth grade, people! I don’t even need to know that crap. And I had to teach it to myself to teach it to 7th graders lo those many years ago.

Having to teach myself, once again, the difference between a predicate adjective/predicate noun.

Having already forgotten the difference between a predicate adjective/predicate noun.

Kanye West making me feel sorry for the Taylor-Swift-Bot.

That is all for now, but we’re headed to another festival, which is always a source of new material.

It has been beat out of me by years of child-rearing, teaching, and my own disorganization, but I really, really like things clean and am greatly affected by places that are not clean. Like, everywhere I go these days.

It’s my basic problem: I desperately need things around me tidy and organized for my own mental health, but am unable to create or maintain this for myself. I really, really need a filthy assistant or 12 (read transmetropolitan if you don’t get that ref) but, of course, the writing isn’t even paying for itself at this point let alone allowing me to hire a staff.

and no, efforts to train my children have been spectacularly non-effective. And don’t even get me started on the cats.

I did not realize that I “came by it honest,” as we say in the midwest, until my last visit to visit my grandparents in Florida. Apparently, there’s a Naked Jungle sized ant problem down there and my grandmother is a little paranoid about it. She has always kept a spotless house, but as I was helping her clean up from dinner one evening, I realized that she was doing something weird. She was taking the trash — milk carton, juice container, chicken wrapping– and rinsing it off in the sink with scalding hot water.

My wife and my parents were like, “woow … that’s … hard core. and weird.”

I thought it was the coolest thing ever. And it should be noted, she has NO ants in her house.

I’ve thought about that a lot, especially as we’ve also had ant problems, mostly because my children think the proper disposal method for a half-eaten cookie is to grind it into the carpet until the crumbs have gone through the carpet and into the pad so Dad won’t see it right away. And I think about my grandma washing her trash and I want to go wash my own trash.

The ants are back. I hate the ants. Obsessively washing dishes and picking up the trash isn’t helping. I believe it is time to institute the ant protocols.

I’m wondering if I can just use Dawn or if I need to go full-out and use something with bleach?

That said, it’s kind of the end of a process of, as I said, staking out some territory for myself in the world and in my own head, and feeling like I’ve earned the right to call the universe on its bullshit.

And to call myself on my own bullshit, which, yeah, there’s a lot of.

But … done now. Will not comment further, will not engage in debate, will just let it stand as it is and get on with the business of living my own damn life and letting everyone else get on with theirs. The rest of this will probably get worked out in fiction, as all things do, for me, really.

But it’s also made me want to do something I felt weird about before, and that’s to can the intitials and start writing things under my own name.

So, no more pen name (since it was my own initials, it wasn’t exactly a pseudonym anyway). From now on, I publish as Chad Grayson.

Hey, I’m a certified crazy. I’m allowed.