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It’s 2019. Let’s Compromise.

Be Upset By This, I Dare You!

Let’s Compromise. Seriously. That’s treated as if it were a dirty word, or has been in recent years at least. But it isn’t a dirty word at all. It’s how a democracy functions. Here’s a hard truth for many: You are never going to get everything you want. In fact, you are going to have to give up some of what you want so that other people get something of what they want so that they’ll be okay with you getting some of what you want. That’s a compromise, and that’s how democracy works. Think of it as a rough consensus, if that helps.

Other groups aren’t responsible for everything that’s wrong. MAGA didn’t cause the problem. Neither did Libtards, or Republicans, or Democrats, or Trumpists, or Socialists. Not even those idiot neighbors down the street are responsible for the problems in your world. You may be a part of your own problems, but, you know what? You’re not responsible for the trouble, either. Sometimes, things just don’t go your way. That’s life. The way to solve the problems is to talk with the Libtards, MAGA, Democrats, Socialists Conservatives, crazy neighbors, and whomever is involved to work out a way that you can each get a piece of what you want out of the situation. But, take note, it will never be “those people” going away and never bothering you again. Whomever they are, they’re here, and you need to deal with that. Nothing can change what is. Not earnest belief, not carrying torches, nothing at all. You and your group are going to have to work with them and their groups until you come to some sort of rough consensus, you know, a compromise, where each of your groups, and each of their groups, gets something of what it wants, but where nobody gets everything that they want, and where nobody is completely happy with the result, but everybody is willing to live with the result. And so we move on.

I know this is not fair. Nothing in life is fair. What this is, though, is the way human beings get along with other human beings. By talking with each other, and listening to each other. It’s 2019! Maybe it’s time we gave it a try.


This tree was in our yard in Centennial Colorado for Christmas 2001.

That’s one down. Luckily for me, one we don’t celebrate. But some of my cousins do, and some of my friends do (and yes, I could name them, but not here, okay?) And a few more to come. The biggie, the Federal Holiday, is Christmas, of course. Never mind that the Feast of Christ (or Christ’s Mass) was originally in the Spring. As a writer of lies (look up the word “fiction”) it is important to know the truth. So, to me, it doesn’t matter what we call the winter solstice holiday. My pagan ancestors called it Jule, or Yule, and the celebration isn’t all that different today. Less official first-time sex for the kiddies, of course, but mostly it’s very similar. The song Deck the Halls is an old pre-Christian Yule song. Not a Christmas song, but popular anyway.

The truth is, Christmas is a war on Yule, and Saturnalia. The non-Christians didn’t declare the war. The Christians did. Somehow they believed that calling the holiday by a Christian name (can’t get closer than “Christmas” after all) would cause people to forget the old holidays. Just like some latter-day people believed that outlawing alcohol would stop people from drinking. Same with outlawing Marijuana, which has not become more readily available since it’s been legal, just easier to get due to not having to sneak around. The marijuana people, alcohol people, and Christians all suffered from the same delusion: that human nature is subject to legislation. Oh, my, there’s fodder for a whole mess of novels in that attitude, isn’t there? I may even have read a book or two that touched on that theme. Let me think . . .

Oh, thinking is too much trouble, obviously. But you see my point: you can call a solstice celebration anything you want, but it ends up being a celebration of the fact that it ain’t gonna get any darker this year, and the sun is gonna come back after all! That’s why we light fires, string lights all over our houses, drink, eat, and party in defiance of the darkness that has just been vanquished. I don’t know about you, but I like it. And, if you want to call it Christmas, what do I care? It’s a good thing, any way you look at it.

And if it takes me until Valentine’s Day to lose the extra weight? Bah, Humbug on it! Gimmie some more cookies!

My Turn at the RWA National Conference

It Was Requested of Me to Pose Here. I Declined

I reposted Barbara Oneal’s take on the conference in Denver. Please read it. You can just go to the immediate previous post from this page, or click here. Just close the page when you’re done, if you choose that option.  This was not my first RWA conference, and I’ll get to some reasons why I recommend one below. First, though, I also noticed the almost obsessive attention to diversity in the organization. I have to say, it is about time. Lest you think that a man at that conference was unwelcome, I assure you that such was not the case. My career was as respected as anyone’s. I was a peer, and treated as such. I got to talk frankly with more African Americans than perhaps I ever have before, and that was excellent. I wish those who see “others” everywhere could do something similar, because, in the end, there are no “others.” We’re all stuck with each other.

Yeah, at times that sucks, but it’s true. Humans are the worst species on the planet, except all of the others, and that’s a fact. You think that beavers ever have second thoughts about their destructive ways? 

Thanks to millennia of stupid thinking, the sort of activism seen everywhere in America these days is necessary. Too bad that’s true, but it’s true. There are those who take it farther than necessary, for sure. (Wendy, the new take on Peter Pan, seems unnecessary. When I read the book, Wendy already seemed to be a strong female lead, but maybe that’s just me. And, anyway, if it sells, who am I to say it nay?) But maybe taking it beyond the end point is the only way to get to the end point. That point, for me, is simply when I can quit worrying about being diverse and simply write stories about people. I may not live that long, but I do believe that the current political climate is hurrying us toward that day.

Whew! Now, on to the conference.

My wife has been a member of RWA for decades. And for decades she has been telling me how useful RWA conferences are. Finally, at a conference in New York three years ago, I found out that she is correct. Here is a sample page of a few hours of programming in Denver last Friday:

See what I mean? There are practical workshops (my favorites) on topics like how to price your books, how to use Scrivener, Research help, as well as book signings (by the actual authors, of course) and a chance to meet one-on-one with various publishers, editors, agents, and so on. At that luncheon, seating is mostly open, meaning that you may well end up having lunch with a famous author (it’s happened) or an editor (ditto) or an agent you’ve been wanting to meet (also ditto.) This goes on for four days. The price includes two luncheons, the first being on Thursday, when the awards for best as yet unpublished books are given out. Not surprisingly, being nominated for one of those awards (called the Golden Heart) is an excellent way to exit that unpublished status.

Or, of course, you can publish your own darned book, which is what a lot of the workshops aimed at helping one do. As the previous post says, publishing is a lot different these days. Bomb in the traditional market and you’re a pariah. Bomb today, and oh, heck, try another one. Maybe they’ll appreciate the first one after you’ve wowed them with the second. (This also happens.)

I have written one, count it, one Young Adult romance novel. Heck it has everything: romance, violence, threats of violence, a couple of people who we don’t know die, all sorts of good stuff, and, most important of all, the ending is so happy that it’ll bring tears to your eyes. Watch for it, because you will see it for sale. I’ve written all sorts of other stuff. Chapter books, mostly, which never include romance per se, but which do have happy endings, if not the HEA (Happily Ever After) required of the romance genre. Which is to say, you would (I assume you’re a writer) find this conference useful even if romance writing isn’t really your thing. Sure, romance characters may be a tad overdrawn. Huh. Is Hamlet a tad overdrawn? Is MacBeth? Why, yes, yes they are. You can learn a lot about drawing good characters by simply overdrawing a few.

So, next years conference is in New York City. I probably won’t attend, because, frankly, New York in July is uncomfortable, much as I love that city. But you could go. To learn more about RWA, just click here. Trust me, you could do worse! (A tinge of New York Yiddish humor there.)

The Lisbon Oceanarium

From the Temporary Exhibit "Forests Underwater by Takashi Amano." Photo by Tami Cowden
From the Temporary Exhibit “Forests Underwater by Takashi Amano.” Photo by Tami Cowden

Takashi Amano specialized in creating underwater living art. This is a huge aquarium, planted very carefully with tropical aquatic plants and stocked with tropical fish. Some of the same fish we have (in smaller quantities) in our livingroom aquarium, in fact. It is a very peaceful and calming exhibition, very unlike the normal life of a big city.

Down one level from the temporary exhibit is a pretty cool aquarium. (No whales, I promise.) People visiting can get pretty wide-eyed with delight. To wit:

Photo by Tami Cowden
Photo by Tami Cowden

We have basset hounds, which are pretty cute animals. But we found some other animals in the Oceanarium that are even cuter. I refer, of course, to Sea Otters. You can see thousands of these guys cavorting near Monterrey, California, if you don’t want to come all the way to Lisbon.

Terminal Cuteness - Photo by Tami Cowden
Terminal Cuteness – Photo by Tami Cowden

I wanted to post a video, but my video editing software is on a different computer and difficult to access. Lunch was fine, about what you’d expect, including dessert. We spent several hours at the Ocenarium before we had to recover our car and drive to the rental agency. This brings up an interesting aspect of navigating in a foreign place. It is absolutely essential that at least one phone, with one maps app, be properly charged at all times. Our car’s power outlet didn’t work, so this involved some definite fuss and bother. Luckily, we had an excellent turbo charger that is portable. You charge it; it charges your devices. I highly recommend such an item if you plan to travel. For me, the best thing about being back home is that I no longer have to pay attention to that. My car charger works, and I have my choice of chargers in the house. Whew!

The rental agency woman had offered to take us to the airport, but as we discovered that it was only about six Euros to Uber it, we declined her generous offer. We did give her the bottle of champagne that we got for free at the hotel in Espinho. Maybe she paid our tolls for us, I can’t say, but if she did, thank her for me if you see her. She works at Ausocar Lisbon.


We arrived at the airport with a lot of time to spare, which was good as it took a while to check in and find our gate. Here’s the thing about Lisbon Airport: you Exit Through the Gift Shop! I mean that literally. The path to the gates winds through the largest duty-free shop in existence (or so it seems.) It took about ten minutes to fully clear the place. Many people stopped to buy things, too, so I guess it’s a good idea from a strictly commercial point of view. We, of course, were less than thrilled, but what the heck, we got there in the end. Hungry. Tired. Disgruntled. (Can one be ‘gruntled?’) And, in the end, what matter? We ate from a small restaurant not far from the gate, and were content enough. Once aboard the plane, as soon as I could, I went to sleep. Not the best sleep in the world, you say? It was good enough. We got to our Dublin hotel at about 02:30. By 03:00 or so I was asleep again, in a bed.

Just one more story. Tami joined what Aer Lingus calls the “Aer Club” when she booked our flights. It is free. It doesn’t get you much, but one thing it does get you is priority check-in. We must have passed a hundred other passengers on our way to the “Aer Club” counter. Heck, we were through the gift shop before the last of them checked in. Keep that in mind, should you ever fly Aer Lingus.

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Old Books, Bus Rides, and Off We Go

A Watercolor in a Cabinet in the Irish National Museum - photo by Tami Cowden
A Watercolor in a Cabinet in the Irish National Museum – photo by Tami Cowden

I confess that I lied in my previous post. We visited the National Museum in Dublin on Thursday, at least that’s when it was according to the timestamps on a string of photos. This particular painting is displayed for two hours per week. It is a watercolor which they don’t want to deteriorate. As we walked into the gallery, a museum employee came out and said that the cabinet was open. We got lucky! I do not know what the painting depicts, or who painted it, but it is a nice composition with good colors, so I’m glad they’re taking care of it. It was on the way to this museum that we saw the Prime Minister’s official office building, in fact. The cheeseburger place came after. After that, my previous post is accurate. We walked around for a bit, then went to the hotel and slept the sleep of the very tired.

The Long Room in Trinity College Library, Dublin
The Long Room in Trinity College Library, Dublin

Next morning we had a Full Irish breakfast at our quaint hotel. In the basement. It was very good. A Full Irish consists of an egg up, beans, bacon (cured meat, think ham, a black pudding, a white pudding, I believe a few potato bits, juices and coffee or tea. Other than the puddings, you could call it a Full English breakfast. We packed up for our flight to Lisbon in the evening, left our bags in care of the hotel, and eagerly shot out the door headed for Trinity College.

This was a mistake. I had read, specifically, “Skip the Book of Kells,” but somehow that advice left me on this morning. The Book of Kells is the oldest book in Ireland, and as it is an original, one of the oldest extant manuscripts anywhere. The text is the first four Christian gospels in Latin. Ad veniat regnam tuum indeed. The museum display isn’t entirely uninteresting, and seeing an actual book that old is something, but it doesn’t last all that long. Upstairs is the “Long Room” of the Trinity Library, where they store a bunch of old books. You can see the old books to either side in the photo above. That’s what we did, see the old books. You can’t check them out, or even touch them. Makes me wonder what they heck the library is for.

Sort of Looks Like Saint Patrick's Cathedral, but I Don't Think It Is. - photo by Tami Cowden
Sort of Looks Like Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, but I Don’t Think It Is. – photo by Tami Cowden

We hopped on, and off, and on again, a hop on-hop off bus service, which worked pretty well. We toured the city and saw a number of famous and otherwise sights. We did not take the tour of the Guinness facilities. Don’t get me wrong, the Guinness Stout brewed there is one of the finest brews ever brewed. I just didn’t care, and still don’t, how they do it. (It’s true, by the way, that the Guinness Stout is better in Dublin. A lot better.)

I Do Not Know Who This is of, But Tami took this p icture, and it's a good shot.
I Do Not Know Who This is of, But Tami took this picture, and it’s a good shot.






















What we have here, besides the unknown gentleman’s statue, is a bit of the Guinness Storehouse, the world’s second largest Obelisk, behind the Washington Monument, and the West Gate to Trinity College.

We could have done more that day, but we had to get to the airport to catch our plane to Lisbon. Interestingly, on the way in, I could have sworn that the hotel was twice as far away from the airport as it seemed to be on the way back out. Long Hauling? No rideshare allowed in Dublin. I report, you decide. Whatever, after discovering that our checked bags had been forgotten by the Aer Lingus system, we waited in a line at the front of which was a young gentleman who apparently was confused by the computer equipment. Giving up all hope of getting dinner at an airport restaurant, we nonetheless made our flight (a lot like United, if that helps describe it) and bought food on the plane. The food was not at all bad, either. By the time we got to our hotel, it was after ten (I mean 22:00) and we didn’t do much but check out Portuguese TV and go to bed. The hotel was the VIP Executive Marques Aparthotel, an actual hotel with electronic keys, elevators, and a parking garage. More about that next time. For now, it’s time to say “adeus.”

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Happy Holidays!

A Part of the 2008 Version of the Magical Forest, by Opportunity Village

Opportunity Village is an organization in Las Vegas, Nevada that provides opportunities for people who normally would not be able to find a job. With training and experience, many of their clients are able to graduate into the “real” job market. They open the Magical Forest every year for the holiday season. Get there early to avoid the big crowds. Ride the train! (That snow is fake, by the way.)

It’s no secret that one of the obligatory things a series author has to do is to produce at least one holiday-themed entry. It’s usually Christmas, but it could be any holiday. Independence Day? Check. Valentine’s Day? You’re kidding, right? Check. New Year’s Day? Check. Even Ground Hog Day? Duh! (Liked the movie.) In the spirit of giving you something else to daydream about while your next big plot development is cooking in the back of your mind, consider how you might adapt your current cast of characters to your favorite holiday? What does a Librarian do on Halloween? Will a Chief ever relax enough to enjoy Labor Day?

Seriously, the holidays present special problems for writers, merely by existing. In my case, I had to finish up a bathroom remodel, and this is the first thing I’ve written in a couple of weeks. And it’s not even fiction! Maybe the way to go is similar to what I do about eating sweets over the holidays: I don’t try to avoid it. I keep it down to as mild a roar as possible, which isn’t always that mild a roar as I dearly love sweets. I also don’t worry too much about production over this period. If it’s something that just has to come out, it will, whether I will it or not. Otherwise, I keep notes and other things to ensure that I can pick up right where I left off, whether it’s the holidays or not. This seems to work out for me, provided that I’m not too fat to fit behind my desk at the end of it all. 🙂



A Man And His Mouse/October 2017
A Man And His Mouse/October 2017

Spent last weekend at Disney’s California Resort. I admit that I took the photo above, but I thought it funny enough to post, even though, technically, it isn’t very good. Not only did Walt have a mouse, but he also had a tower growing out of his head! What a guy, huh? In truth, I’ve always liked Walt Disney, the man on TV selling culture to kids. Know why jeans frequently have holes in them, and look worn and old, even $80 new from the store? Spin and Marty, that’s why. Feel free to look it up. The city dude’s new jeans got dragged through the horse yard, kicked around, washed a jillion times, and ended up looking like, well, like those eighty-buck ripped pants you see today.

Walt, of course, is remembered by the general public as an animator, and of course, as the founder of Disneyland, which has grown into a worldwide entertainment juggernaut. But, of course, over the years, he didn’t draw a lot of the stuff with his name on it (I mean back when he was alive.) He was also, perhaps primarily, a storyteller. Steamboat Willie, the first Mickey Mouse cartoon, tells a story. It’s a simple one, and a silly one (he called his toons “Silly Symphonies,) but it’s still a complete story. He adapted many stories, too, of course, especially from the brothers Grimm, but he always made them his own. As a little kid, I couldn’t read the Grimm version of Snow White — it’s horrible. But, I loved Walt Disney’s story. Disney knew how to tell it so everybody would love it, and that’s what he did every day of his adult life.

And his theme park was designed to be a story, or maybe five stories, all with stories within them, as well. Main Street was based on a small-town middle America that was long gone by 1955, and patterned after the main street of the Kansas town where he grew up.* The other “lands,” (Walt loved things German) including Fantasyland, Adventureland, Frontierland, and Tommorowland, all tell stories about swashbuckling fun, life on the edge of civilization, fairy tale worlds, and what was then the future, beckoning bright just around the bend. You can immerse yourself in the stories told at Disneyland, as we did when we “paddled” a canoe around an artificial island in an artificial lake. (They are real canoes, but there are professionals who actually paddle the things.) You can experience the lifestyle of the Pirates of the Caribbean. There was a working Monorail before Seattle built one for their World’s Fair, and it’s still available in a much updated version. There  used to be a People Mover, of which I know at least one was sold, to the City of Detroit. Walt liked the future, and worked to bring it about, so his Tomorrowland stories were more Star Trek in style and intent than they were Star Wars. Today, of course, Tomorrowland is all about Star Wars, but I’m talking 1955 here, folks. (I know, there was no Trek either. I’m referring to the fact that Star Wars is a fantasy telling an invented mythology, whereas Star Trek is a hopeful vision of a real future. I like them both.)

You can learn a lot about story by visiting Disneyland. Many of the rides have encapsulated stories within their experience, and they are too short to have any extraneous modifiers, bub! If you’re a writer, I’m giving you, free of charge, a five-star excuse to go to a Disney park: you can learn a great deal about telling a story there. Don’t say I never did anything for you!

*You can learn more about Walt Disney’s life from this article on Wikipedia.