You’d think that with a business trip, two vacations, a couple holidays, and a local fan convention, someone could find plenty of inspiration over three months. Maybe they could even find some reflective moments to finish edits, get queries out, write a few shorts, a blog post or three, get a chapter or two added to the WIP, or… you know, any of that. This summer, however, had other plans. I did manage a good amount of editing, wrote a little, and wrote (and deleted) a few query letters.
The trips were fun though! See the attached picture (one of many) of Pride in NYC. For some reason the flag at the far end of the World Trade Center mall hit us all a little deep. We’d been to Stonewall that day, had our hotel blocked off to allow President Biden’s motorcade to get by when he dedicated the new Stonewall visitor’s center there, and just generally had a great time with rainbows galore on the subway and everywhere between. Lots of reflection and family connections made, but no writing in a cramped hotel room with the whole family. Not sure why I thought that might happen…
So went the summer of ’24. The latest fun was the now infamous CrowdStrike incident of 7/19/2024, which left many who call IT their day jobs also working it as a night and weekend job until everything was cleaned up. Best laid plans…
Wait, Summer isn’t over!, you might say. Well, down here in Valley of the Sun, it hits 40C around late April and doesn’t stop until Halloween. The weather, therefore, is no indicator of season. Schools let out in mid May, and my kiddo’s first day of next school year is August 1, so Summer break season is coming to an end. That seems like the best measure I can put my finger on.
Next up on the agenda for the whirlwind Summer ’24 tour is WorldCon Glasgow aka Glascon. It’ll be my first WorldCon, and it’s already been a fun ride to watch everything about it unfold. From the controversies following the 2023 Chengdu WorldCon and Hugo awards, to the latest spilled tea with attempted ballot stuffing, plus a particular upset old-guard author who apparently just didn’t want to fill out a form? It’s been interesting to watch.
That doesn’t mean I’m not thrilled to go and experience it all. I’ve never been to Scotland, so this will be a lot of fun. Plenty of new faces to meet. Many friends I’ve only met in Zoom and writing retreats. A fricken Hugo Awards ceremony! There’s plenty to be excited and terrified about. Right now the plan is to socialize, take it all in, and go with the flow of the event. Maybe I’ll make a few connections. Whatever happens it’ll be fun.
Here’s one thing I did manage to write this summer. A few weeks back, there was no summer camp or other childcare options on the agenda, and I had the grand idea of taking the young one on a writing day to my regular Friday group. It didn’t quite work out the way I planned, much like the rest of the season. My writing buddies all were stuck doing other things, and the only place I could entice the youngster to go was the public library. Normally that’d be great! Unfortunately, that was the hottest week on record this year, and every desk, table, and chair in the library was occupied by someone with better reason to get out of the heat than we did.
Seriously, support your libraries, they literally save lives. (see what I did there?)
I ended up on a bench outside the teen zone while kiddo perused the YA stacks. Then out of the blue, she came over with this story seed, so I wrote this little scene on my phone and called it successful writing day. Enjoy!
“Species and Age”
“Wuh?”
“I said, species and age.” As three meter tall insectoids go, the one behind the bar didn’t seem to be bothered. The speaker at their neck translated the clicks. Their midlegs set on the counter, crossed while their front two polished a glass for what looked like the tenth time from the spotless shine of everything there.
“Uh…”
They chittered and one giant complex eye reflected my face back at me while the other remained dull. “Look kid, I don’t get paid enough to know every species and their legal drinking age, but you can be sure my head will be on a platter if I serve you something too poisonous. So what are you, and how many spins you been around?”
“Ok I guess. I’m human, and” I did the math, “one millionth of one spin, I think. Give or take.”
The mantid put down its glass and reached down to pull an enormous book out from under the counter. Their chits got increasingly quick, but the speaker just grumbled something incomprehensible. “Human, you say? From Sol system.”
“That’s us.” I tried to look chipper. Really I just wanted water, but if this place served that many species I was interested to know what it said about us and what kind of concoctions it thought were safe for humans.
“Yeah, all right. What’ll it be?”
I was starting to wonder about this translator. Did they really sound like that in their native language or was it using some kind of stereotype bartender program?
“What’s good? Any specials?”
They punched a couple numbers from the book into an interface and took a second look before focusing both eyes on me.
“Says here water, ethanol, a few long chain distillates and trace elements for something called flavor. Any of that sound good?”
“Water will be fine, thanks.”
They nodded and filled a sparklingly clean glass.
