I'm not sure anyone feels politically represented by either a jackass or an elephant, or whatever the hell the mascot for the Independent party is. At first I was thinking maybe everyone's mascot could simply be this lady.

Then I realized, hey, we live in an almost democracy! Let's put it to the people. My agency was gracious enough to back the goofy idea, and a website was born:

politicalcritter.org

Submit soon. Submit often. By the presidential election this November, we'll select the top critters and actually send them to the respective national parties, most likely to the tune of much national party guffawing.

Also, if you like this, tell people. The more, the better.

As tiny as tiny can be.

Right here.

In fact, I'm pretty sure you'd have to do a search of the site to find me. And how I made it onto an author tag cloud in Portuguese, I'll never know.

Other reviews of my story, "Lucy," are out in various locations. None of them particularly glowing, but I am honestly fascinated to see the reactions:

The Fix Review

Suite 101 Review

My absolute favorite so far is over at Not Free SF Reader, who has distilled the story down to its essence:
Ratdog girlbot space scream.

I just don't seem to blog much. I'm not into public sharing as much as maybe I should be, and any time I do get the itch to spout to an online microcosm, I do so via my agency's blog, Notchweiner.com. That, and it seems like the only thing I'm willing to share on here is publishing news, which makes me feel like this is nothing more than one of the world's least effective press release outlets. Ever.

Anyway, if you're reading this, I hope all is well. My story "Lucy" just hit the shelves this month in the August issue of Asimov's Science Fiction. Very exciting to see it finally in print.

See what I mean about the p.r.?

Have a great summer/year.

I believe the phrase I'm looking for is "holy crap." Or similar.

Cimarron Review has nominated my short story Purgatories for a Pushcart Prize, and I couldn't be happier. It was one of those stories you have in your head for years, even before you really start working on it. And honestly, it was one of the first stories I wrote that I consciously decided: ok, no one dies at the end. I consider that a moment of maturation as a writer...no more stock tragic endings!

Anybody else have that kind of defining ah-ha moment as a writer? I'd love to hear 'em.

I'm just so glad Cimarron Review gave this story a shot, given that it is, at its core, a science fiction story. Thank you, thank you, Cimarron Review.

Onward, genre soldiers.

The 2X2 meme, courtesy of Captain Jason Pettus. I'm assuming that if I'm getting this, everyone else on the internet (or cybernet, as I like calling it) has already done it. Twice. So I won't be forwarding it on. The meme ends here. You're welcome!

Two names you go by:
Chris.
Divine Sherpa of the Midwest.

Two things you are wearing right now:
A hoodie that was made for someone ten years younger than myself.
Too much hair.

Two things you would want (or have) in a relationship:
Respect.
Laughter.

Two of your favorite things to do:
Let's see, the "your mom" joke is just way too played out at this point, isn't it? I'll just say travel and write, mainly because I'm not sure how to say "enjoy time with my loving wife and son" in a way that even comes close to capturing the real, uncheesy joy of that. Wait. Traveling and writing is kinda cheesy sounding too, isn't it? Crap. Finding new music that doesn't suck? Prodding a laugh out of someone, no matter if I like or even hate them? Um, eating?

Pass!

Two things you want very badly at the moment:
A city.
Two additional hours of free time. Daily.

Two pets you had/have:
Red and Dottie Mae, an enormous pair of brother and sister cats.

Two people who will answer these questions, or first to send it back:
No one, since I'm the last human on the cyberhighway to answer them.

Two things you did last night:
Kicked a ball around the backyard with my son.
"Your mom" is still out, isn't it?
Damnit.

Two things you ate yesterday:
Palak Paneer.
Frosted Mini Wheats.

Two people you have last talked to:
You know who you are, you bastards.

Two things you're doing tomorrow:
Working.
And then not working.

Two longest car rides:
Springfield, MO to Albuquerque, NM. 13 hours straight.
Springfield, MO to Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, LA and back, over about a week.

Two favorite holidays:
National Astronomy Day! Bring the kids!
Thanksgiving.

Two favorite drinks:
The next one.
And the next one.

Asimov's Science Fiction has graciously accepted Lucy, a short story that originally appeared on the Science Creative Quarterly site a few years ago. Since then, the story has been revised and revised some more and even updated with a few factual tidbits courtesy of the Cassini probe currently doing a little gravity dance around Saturn and its moons (yes, it's THAT kind of story).

I'm really excited to get something into Asimov's. Not only do they pay, but I really am a sci fi dork at heart. I've been reading sci fi since I was a tween, and to get a story into the grand poobah of the genre is like climbing Everest. If Everest were made entirely out of Edgar Rice Burroughs paperbacks and glow-in-the-dark sky charts.

I love that the tag from last week has officially now gone cat.

My one-year-old son has been flirting with walking for several weeks now, cruising around any stationary object, holding on less and less tightly, taking a tentative step or two before plopping down onto the diaper. Today, my wife called to say he took ten steps across an open room at the local library's story time. Not only that, but he also became Mr. Social, making the rounds to all the other kids and hollering out "Whassaat?" repeatedly, his standard line that we think means "What's that?"

So now I guess he's officially walking, if sporadically, which is wonderful beyond words. It also means we can look forward to what's inevitably next: falling. And this is exactly the dark mental path that leads parents to this level of insanity:



For my money, I think they'd be better off going for a tiny mouthguard. I mean, he's just getting used to the idea of having teeth. Seems a shame to bash them out on the sidewalk so soon.

I've been tagged by a good friend and will, for the first time, actually attempt to play along with said tag. Here are the laws laid down.

Each player starts with eight random facts/habits or embarrassing things about themselves. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.

So here goes.

8) You know that stamped-in label that runs around the drain over most older garbage disposals? The one that says "In-Sink-Erator"? I was well into my 30s before I realized that was a pun.

7) I've pooped on top of a volcano. And wiped with grass (not recommended).

6) I don't like Radiohead. Never have. Though I do enjoy other people singing Radiohead songs (Black Star).

5) I guarantee I've read fewer books than you. Unless you count all the Piers Anthony and Edgar Rice Burroughs I devoured as a pre-teen. Then I win.

4) I have a tattoo. It's not on my ass. It is in Chinese. And it means "Rock." Or possibly "shin licker."

3) I removed the original 3 factoid because, upon further reflection, I felt it was trying too damn hard. And that should you more insight into who I am than anything else here.

2) I'm a pleaser. I'll contort my beliefs into a salty, salty pretzel of denial in order to not have to disagree with you.

1) I think America's Funniest Home Videos is one of the best things on TV. I'll choose it over just about anything else on, horrible voice-over jokes and all.

I'm tagging:

Jody Reale
Matt Bell
Susan Henderson
Chloe
Dave Clapper
The Saunders Army

and what the hell

Miranda July's secretary, whom I'll count as two people.

There.

See if you can decode the following acronym-heavy statement:

The SFWA has been accused of abusing the DMCA in order to remove infringing work on Scribd, including CC-licensed work.

The non-turbodork translation is this: The Science Fiction Writers of America association is catching loads of crap for using the Digital Millennium Copyright Act to force the website Scribd to remove any pieces containing references to Isaac Asimov or Robert Siverburg, with the assumption that those pieces were unauthorized online reproductions of those authors' works.

However, as any sci fi author worth their autographed copy of Bio of a Space Tyrant: Vol. 2 Mercenary will tell you, problems arose in the form of unchecked automation. Any reference to Asimov or Silverbug got your work pulled, even if was legitimate, original work that just happened to mention either author, including Creative Commons-licensed work like that of one very pissed off Cory Doctorow.

I'm fascinated by the constantly shifting balance between copyright and exposure. Some writer friends are firm believers in throwing everything online for all to see in order to spread the gospel. Some are adamantly pay-to-play. Personally, I'm more in the latter camp, but not for the pseudo-financial reasons. It's more about barriers to entry for me. If I can write something compelling enough to convince an editor (not an infallible being, I understand) to print my work in their limited space, that they believe this story "good enough" to convince their readers to put some effort (i.e., money) into reading it, I feel like I've accomplished something. I could publish every word I've ever written online right now (ok, later tonight), but I'd feel a hollow kind of joy in that.

I do truly believe that the writing is the thing, the story is the accomplishment; publication and readership are simply the reactions. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't get real pride from having others read this thing I love so much and hearing them say, "That doesn't suck."