It doesn't matter what your political affiliation is. If there isn't at least one thing in your party's platform that makes you really nervous, you've probably stopped thinking, and are instead drinking the conveniently provided mystery fruit punch.
My friend Steve, who used to do this sort of thing for the Army, used to talk about the gold standard of technical translation: Subject matter expert One, who was a native speaker of language A and was fluent in language B, did the initial translation from A to B. SME Two, who was a native speaker of B and was fluent in A, then did clean up. The two sat at adjacent desks, and could confer in the case of confusion. This produced fast, accurate translations.
So I've been reading a book called, "Viking", which is a memoir of the 1893 voyage across the Atlantic in a replica of the Gokstad Ship. The author was a Norwegian sailor, and the translator was a native English speaker who was fluent in Norwegian but NOT a sailor. The author was dead before the translation was attempted, so no cross correction was possible. The result is sometimes amusing and occasionally really frustrating. It's still pretty wonderful, anyway...
When you're trying to change the world, you need to remember that anyone who is willing to meet you half way is your ally, not your enemy. You also need to remember that said alliance is fragile, and that it can be easily broken by asking for too much, too soon.
So the primary edit of "Fiddler's Rose" is done. I changed, added, or deleted maybe 150 words, and I converted about 600 word pairs to contractions. The jokes are still funny, and the emotional bits still make me cry. I'm happy with it. On to formatting.
Is there anything more important to you than your singularity? Given the phrase, "I am myself," is there any word or phrase with which you can replace the word, "myself" which will make it more personally true?
I was just asking Dementia the other night how long she has had the ukulele. It would seem to be a bit more than four years. She still plays every day.
Dredged from 2014:
Dementia has tried to learn to play the guitar a few times over the years, but like many of us, lacks the necessary manual dexterity. Recently she has acquired a baritone ukulele, essentially a half-sized guitar with only the four highest pitched strings. She has been practicing it diligently, and making good progress. Last night as I was brushing my teeth she played through a long and melodic series of chords smoothly. When I had finished, I complimented her, and asked her what the song was.
"I don't really know the melody well enough to hear it," she said. "It's 'Sloop John B.'"
I smiled. "Strum the first chord." She did, I listended, found the note, and started to sing. She was working off a words and chords chart, and had no trouble following through the verse and chorus. When we had finished, I said, "That... WORKED." I smiled broadly.
"Yeah," she said with an equally broad smile. "That did."
One takes one's triumphs where one finds them...
Fall is the good-looking shill who distracts you while Winter sneaks up behind you with a knife.
Bob Buehler posted:
Have too much to do? Pause, think, & pray. Work from your center, not from the things that press on you. You'll be amazed with the result.
But my center doesn't want to do anything. On reflection, the only motivator that really works in my life is fear of my own self-loathing.
Well, the self-loathing thing is an epiphany this morning, but I have been saying that I am the worst boss I have ever had since the "full-time writer" thing started in March.
On a scale of one to ten, how crazy do you have to be to row most of ten miles on a day when the sun has gone away, just so that you can say that you ordered a McDonald's ice cream cone from a canoe? (After 10 miles on the Chain O' Lakes
Two months ago, my dentist told me that I probably had a cracked molar, and that the tooth was probably unsalvageable. I had no symptoms, so I let it be. Today, I decided that, while it was far from a problem, it was clear something was wrong, and followed up on the original referral. At 11:00 AM I called the oral surgeon, they said they had an opening at 1:00 PM (90 minutes away), and by 2:00 the crack had been confirmed and the tooth pulled. The novacaine is pretty much worn off, and I am moving into the "please kill me now" portion of the program. It's going to be a long night.
Ad copy, since Kindle books don't have back covers:
"Fiddler's Rose" is a love story, and an epic quest. It centers on Rose, a young sorceress who desperately needs to recover a magical dagger that is under 2000 fathoms of ocean and 500 miles from the nearest dry land. To complicate things, she is in love with a ghost, and is turning into a dragon.
"Fiddler's Rose" is also a conversation; it is told almost entirely in dialog, and as such, contains almost no "on the page" action of any kind. But love does not need to be graphic to engage your heart, and evil does not need to be explicit to engage your nightmares.
"Fiddler's Rose" by P.D. Haynie
Alternatively, "and evil does not need to be explicit to invade your dreams."
And while I'm doing this kind of thing, I know better than to actually use the following, but it appeals to me anyway:
When Rose Stonecrow was 16 years old, she picked up a sailor in a bar, became pregnant, had an abortion, and had herself magically sterilized. And THEN she met the unicorn...
We are in a leaky lifeboat in the North Atlantic, and everyone is too busy arguing about who sleeps on which side of the boat to begin bailing.