I taught a lesson about Fruit today--that was the title of the talk which was the subject of the discussion. I thought it went swimmingly--but no one got pushed in the pool. I've always thought that was an odd term, "swimmingly" I mean. Some people--moi, for example--find swimming very difficult and exhausting. I presume it's because I'm not doing it correctly. I should say the lesson went splendidly with gobs of appropriate and insightful participation, and no lack of flotation devices.

As for the usual formalities--or informalities as I'm rather informal on this site--the writing continued on schedule. Things have taken a bad turn for most of the heroes--or perhaps the proper description would be that the difficulties have continued--as multiple foes have pummeled, jounced, bumped, jolted, and jerked them about. My best estimate is that we're halfway to the summit. Things will get better, and then worse, and finally the last act in this part of the drama will splash across the remaining pages in vivid color, framed in black and blue.

***
For those interested in my skirmish game, I adapted a scenario, which I had created for another game, for play with my rules using some Lord of The Rings miniatures. I had rules for, but had not yet tested them, using armor and shields. This scenario tested those rules. The setup has six soldiers of Rohan with shields and medium armor defending a ruined building against an attack by nine Uruk-Hai who have shields but no armor for the sake of this test. The warriors have three archers; the Uruks ate their own archers the day before.

1. 

Frebored the bowman tries to acts first, but not before a Uruk steals an advance. Frebored shoots twice in rapid succession, his arrows stabbing into the dirt. The other warriors shrug it off as a case of early battle jitters. A second bowman, Thordred, fires and kills the Uruk who had advanced. The others are out of his range. The last bowman, Zared, only gets off a single shot, a near miss which worries the Uruk leader so much that he wets himself and speed away from the battle as fast as his crud-covered legs can carry him. Worst leader ever. One of his Uruks takes the hint and follows the leader off the field. The rest of the orcs curse to themselves about the problem of nepotism in leadership appointments, but otherwise ignore the two cowards. (This event resulted in a rules tweak for near-miss-moral-checks to make such a result even more unlikely).

The Uruk right flank moves in under light and inaccurate archer fire. The Uruk left flank, consisting of only one warrior now (having lost one to an arrow and another who fled with the fraidy-cat leader), also trots toward the objective, and experiences an intimate encounter with one of Thordred's arrows. The orc dies on the spot. The two remaining Uruks in the center rush forward. Frebored, atop the wall, fires a shaft which whispers wounding to the leg of one of the advancing Uruks in the center.

.

The Uruks have lost four warriors: two killed, and two fled from the field.

2. 

Rohan's archers continue to hold the orcs at bay. Frebored, over his earlier jitters, sends one Uruk scurrying back to lay low in the grass, and wounds another who retreats a short way with howls of pain. Zared got his good luck charm tangled in his bowstring and couldn't get off a shot.

Fallen number 4 Uruk regains his feet while dodging arrows. Number 3 Uruk charges into contact with the archer Thordred, and Uruk 6 encounters the spearman Hubert* at the crumbling wall. Wounded Uruk 2 rushes the Rohan leader Vilmo at the door or the ruin. Dured throws himself into the action to help Thordred with Uruk 3. Frebored, the archer up on the wall pierces Uruk 4 with a pointed message. The orcs have closed with the warriors of Rohan. The white-skins will feel their wrath.

3.

Dured of Rohan offers to introduce his sword to Uruk 3 in an effort to help Thordred (see bottom left of the picture immediately above). The Uruk is no mean opponent and the two are forced to disengage. Dured leaps back in to attack again. Neither combatant can get an advantage and they remain locked in combat. Dured smells the fetid breath and malodorous sweat of the his grim and dirty foe. Thordred shouts a challenge and also springs upon Uruk 3. Meanwhile, Uruk 4 slips in his own blood, falling to the ground. Uruk 4 scrambles back to his feet while Frebored's poorly aimed arrows fail to hinder him.

Vilmo lunges at Uruk 2 in the doorway, but the orc outmaneuvers him and switches places with Vilmo, throwing Vilmo out of the doorway, but placing Uruk 2 in contact with both Vilmo and Zared. Uruk 4 engages Hubert across the broken wall and receives a painful injection from Hubert's spear as his reward. Dured, driven mad by the stink of Uruk 3, shoves his sword into the Uruk's gut. The orc slips to the ground, still panting fetid breaths but unable to rise. Uruks 4 and 6 are so grieved at the loss of their comrade, and without a leader to strengthen their resolve, they run from the field in search of immediate grief counseling. Uruk 5 had fallen back to see what his comrades would do. When Uruk 4 left the field, 5 discovered a sudden interest in seeking alternative career possibilities, leaving only Uruk 2 to continue the battle. Uruk 2 has been wounded, and has fought his way into the ruin, only to be abandoned by his comrades. In combat with two warriors, he turns his fury on Zared, shoving him away. The Uruk is free to fight Vilmo without interference. He clashes with the axe-wielding Vilmo and they bounce away from each other. 

4. 

Zared wants to finish the matter with a bowshot but that good luck charm about his neck has once more become caught in his bowstring.

Uruk 2, disgusted by Zared's dangling good luck charm, charges into the bowman.

5. 

Uruk 2 goes for the throat of  Zared, but the warrior shoves him back--that charm is working! Vilmo sees an opportunity and moves toward the Uruk with his axe swinging.

6. 

Vilmo knocks the orc away without causing him any damage.

7. 

Vilmo shouts for Dured to help trap the Uruk. Dured moves in to block the Uruk's movement. Hubert brings his spear to bear as Dured kicks the feet from beneath the Uruk. Hubert drives his spear through the Uruk's ribcage, pinning him to the ground. The Uruk cannot continue the fight. Rohan is victorious.

-The red blobs on the bases are wound markers.

*If Hubert sounds like a name for a French character, that's because it is. I transferred some other characters to this scenario and didn't spend much time changing names.

Why I Hate Nick Cole

Hate is a strong word. Strong words are unequivocal. They leave no doubt about one's intent and meaning. I don't mean to convey a sense of apathy, or simply an inability to appreciate. Without hyperbole or exaggeration, my hatred for Nick Cole boils like a seething cauldron heated by the fires of the earth's core (that is, according to one source, about 10,800 degrees Fahrenheit, 6000 Celsius -- which is about the same as the surface of the sun -- other sources put it at about 9,800 F or 5,400 C). I will allow the magma of my malice, the lava of my loathing, to erupt here in a great burst of bile and enmity.

Before I get to the spurting spite and erupting execration, allow me to digress. The writing this week went wonderfully. I exceeded the daily goals and added another bonus set on Saturday. Although there was a bunch of dialog, various episodes of biting, fighting, and struggling against the unstoppable forces of nature kept it lively. A couple characters made surprising developments which will undoubtedly play into the exciting finale. If you haven't read the first two books in the series, Threading the Rude Eye and Power to Hurt, you should get them now. Links are in the column at the left.

And now, back to the promised splenetic outburst.
It all began when I picked up The Red King by Nick Cole.

I posted this same picture last week, and carelessly sprinkled about a few words of mild praise. I was wrong. Even then, at less than halfway through this novel, I had an inkling.

The thing is, I picked up this book for free without realizing the zombie apocalypse nature of the story. I have absolutely no interest in the genre. I don't read that despicable stuff. That's not who I am, and I look down with disdain (utter disdain) upon those who read that genre which I consider to be the lowest, most untouchable, vile, unclean of all fantasy/sci fi genres (that's probably an exaggeration, but I'm rolling here). So that may give you some idea of the reason for my rancor toward Mr. Cole.

After I discovered the nature of the book, I read it anyway--Don't judge me. I had my reasons. I expected to read a few pages or a couple chapters before putting it aside in disgust with a snide sneer (that's redundant but I like the alliteration and that's a subtle theme in this post) of authorial superiority. I had planned to refer to the book in passing, simply mentioning that I had read it but that the genre was not something I could appreciate--neither praising nor condemning Mr. Cole.

Unfortunately, Mr. Cole's gravelly yet smooth narrative voice--like dark chocolate syrup over a crushed bed of mixed nuts with a mere hint of sea salt--sucked me into the story. His descriptions flow very near to the point at which my interest threatens to wain, but he stops just short, creating an almost perfect setting rich in color, texture, and atmosphere. I get the sense that Mr. Cole might be describing places right outside his front door, just down the road, or couple blocks over from his home or the shops which he frequents.

Cole creates characters. These aren't ambulating cliches in clothing descriptions. The characters lug around their own strengths and weaknesses, promising continuing development. They beckon the reader to follow their adventure. That adventure could be called dull at times--if a roller coaster ride through a shooting gallery across a mine field beneath attack choppers can be called dull.

In all of the excitement, amidst all of the running, shooting, killing, whacking, drinking, smoking, hiding, meetings and conversations between enemies and allies, Cole creates gritty, realistic characters and takes them on white-knuckled rides through extreme hazard and exhilarating jeopardy without resorting to insulting the reader with profanity and filth. That feat alone sets Cole apart from, and well above, the majority.

It's not often that I find an author whose work I would rather read than my own. If Cole's other books are as good as this one, he falls into that very limited category. There you have the source of my hatred--absolute, naked jealousy. How can I expect to write as well as Nick Cole? He took me on a journey that I resisted, and compelled me to enjoy it in spite of how determined I had been to loathe the experience. Curse you, Nick Cole.

I do have another reason to hate Nick Cole. I know it's early in the new year, but I have little hope of reading another book this year which constrains me to forego other activities, or which induces me to sneak in a few pages during breaks between court cases like this one did. I'm already getting the tremors because I need another drink of Cole's literary liquor. Curse you, Nick Cole.

The Red King by Mr. Cole is a magnificent tour de force. I don't know if I can resist purchasing the next book in the series. Curse you, Nick Cole.

An Interview with David Butler,

author of the Witchy War series, and much more

Please tell me a little about your current work in progress.

I am currently writing Serpent Daughter, which is the fourth book in the Witchy War, and commences its second trilogy. Sarah Elytharias Penn fights a two-front war even as her body is wrecked and dying due to her overuse of magic. Her brother Nathaniel and sister Margaret try to reconcile with their estranged uncle, and the giants of the north arise from their ancient quiet to bring their founding myths to life.

Where did you get the idea for this book or series?

The Witchy War is a fairy tale about my own three children, wrapped inside American folklore and organized as an epic fantasy. It’s also in part inspired by the Thirty Years War, and by the classic work of historical anthropology, Albion’s Seed.

Do you write in more than one genre?

Yes. I also have a middle grade series published with Knopf (The Kidnap Plot and sequels), and YA dystopian novels (Crecheling and sequels), The Cunning Man, which is occult detective, or, as I prefer to think of it, the urban fantasy of the old, weird America, City of the Saints, which is steampunk, and the forthcoming novels In the Palace of Shadow and Joy (which is sword and planet adventure, or a pseudofantasy noir tale) and The Wilding Probate (which is a thriller).

Tell me about something that you believe makes your writing unique or worthy of attention.

I incorporate actual songs, with genuine melodies and chord structures, into nearly all of my books. My fantasy writing tends to build on genuine real-world folk magic, or real-world anthropological thinking about magic—I think that so-called ‘hard magic’ is a betrayal of the fantasy genre, nonsense on stilts, and a spent force. I love indirect world-building by the inclusion of artifacts and in-world documents rather than by exposition.

Is there anything about your personal history or personality that manifests strongly in your writing?

I suspect there are many, many things. Lawyers and bankers and entrepreneurs are maybe unusually prominent in my writing, as they have been prominent in my various careers. My interest in languages shines through, especially in an epic like the Witchy War, in which numerous real-world languages poke through, not to mention some imaginary language. I’ve got a mystical bent, and I tend to believe that mortality is a constant experience of taking action despite uncertainty and unreliable information, and I think that all manifests in my stories.

What else would be helpful for readers to know about you?

To paraphrase something Greil Marcus wrote of Bob Dylan, you can’t understand my serious writing unless you realize that it always contains at least a little bit of humor, and you can’t understand my jokes unless you realize that they’re always dead serious.

Excluding your own work, what underrated author or book would you recommend that more people read? Why?

My favorite living writers are Tim Powers, for his secret histories, with their madcap fantasy reimaginings of real-life figures, and Neal Stephenson, for his ambition tackling of serious, big ideas. I also highly recommend a number of current indie writers, including space opera adventure writer L.J. Hachmeister and pulp novelist David J. West. I love people with idiosyncratic visions, and I should throw in one more, in that vein: Steven Peck writes cerebral, grotesque semi-fantasies deeply rooted in his native small-town eastern Utah, such as The Scholar of Moab and Gilda Trillim: Shepherdess of Rats.

Which of your books do you most highly recommend? Why?

I expect different readers will prefer different books of mine, depending on their age, genre preferences, and other factors. I myself have no favorites. I’m happy for people to buy and like them all.

Which break, event, decision, or fortuitous circumstance has helped you or your writing career the most?

Getting published by Toni Wesskopf. 

What question do you wish you would get asked more often?

Q. “Dave, is that a Dukes of Hazzard reference?”

A. “Yes.”

Do you have a catch-phrase or quote that you like? What is it? And why do you choose it?

I recently bought the posthumous Leonard Cohen album. Like all posthumous albums, it’s a mixed bag that should probably only be bought by completists and real fans, but it opens with a great couplet:

I was always working steady, I never called it art

I got my shit together, meeting Christ and reading Marx

I like that refusal to specialize, and the demurral to the artist’s claim to be a chosen or blessed person. The game belongs to those who do the work.

Is there anything you wish you had known about the writing and publishing business before you got into it? If so, what?

I wish I had really clearly understood that, as a writer, I'm the CEO and shareholder. Agents and editors are joint venture partners, but if you as a writer treat them like your bosses, you will not get what you want out of your writing career.

Can you tell me something you have discovered to be extremely important about the writing/publishing business?

There's way more luck involved than any successful writer or publisher really wants to admit. After luck, persistence is the most important thing. Skill's not even third, it's somewhere farther down the line.

What advice would you give to writers who are struggling to get book sales?

Keep going. Damn straight, it's hard. No one can defeat you but you.

Is there anything you miss about leaving the law/banking business?

Well, I'm still involved in some of that. In fact, in 2020 I'm starting a new consulting business in the field. One thing I enjoy about my work as a lawyer / trainer / consultant is that there are times when I know I've made a difference for someone, whether that means I helped a startup raise capital, or I taught someone to understand their financial statements, or I helped close a big acquisition -- those things have real-world effects that are often immediate.

I see that you do a tremendous amount of traveling, do you feel that's necessary to help your book sales, or do you do it for other reasons?

I do it for my day job(s); I travel to train, and meet clients, etc. But given that I must travel, I make good use of that time -- as of this writing, I believe I've visited 43.9% of Barnes & Noble stores in existence, to sign stock and give a book to a staff member. In that same travel, I also arrange more formal signing events, and I have lunch with readers, and I go to conventions. If you want your book to be read, you must sell somehow, and it's efficient to use synergies with your day job and other activities to do so.

Do you know if anyone has ever compared your writing to that of Orson Scott Card? And what would you say to anyone attempting to make such a comparison?

That comparison has been made, and there are at least two aspects in which it's an apt comparison (maybe more than two). First, his Seventh Son and sequels are an important inspiration for the Witchy War series, both in terms of being set in a frontier America kind of setting, but also in terms of the kind of fantasy world-building they contain. The Witchy War is not conventional alternate history, instead it's a kind of funhouse mirror reimagining of North America, and that's true of Seventh Son, also. And secondly, Card more or less openly brought Mormon history and themes into speculative fiction, in Seventh Son, but also in his Homecoming Saga. Without those predecessors, it's tough to imagine that I could have gotten, for instance, The Cunning Man (which is a fantasy novel set in 1935 about a Mormon wizard battling the demons of the Great Depression) published.

Visit Mr. Butler's Amazon Page

My friend from last week's post told me that he finished Smoke. He talked as if he enjoyed it very much. Like many of those who tell me that they have read it, he's looking for a sequel. That book was written as a stand alone. At some point I will write another book in that 1948 setting featuring some of the same characters. It is my favorite of the books I've written (so far). I simply haven't felt moved to write a sequel. When I started writing Smoke, I only had the opening scene, and a confidence that the story would develop. I wrote that scene and then waited for more ideas to coalesce. I figured out the ending and then had to figure out how to get to it. Along the way, I changed the ending, added characters and had the best time ever writing the story which connected that opening scene with Noah and Monica to the exciting conclusion. That book took me a couple years to complete from the time I began writing the first scene until I posted it to Amazon--of course, I was writing two other books at the same time.

Enough boring reminiscing of the ghost of writing past. (Which makes me think of this). The current project is progressing nicely. I hit my word count goal every day this week and pounded out more on Saturday. Chapter seven is half finished. Chapter six turned out to be longer than I had expected. I've known the ending from the beginning since I started, but some of the pieces in the middle remained nebulous; those are getting clearer all the time. There's been no shortage of action, but I had to do some lengthy dialog for some necessary character development and background. I'm about to crank up the action knob several clicks.

***

I've started reading this book by Nick Cole:

I saw that it was free and picked it up without realizing that it's a zombie apocalypse book. I started reading anyway. I quite like the author's style and technique so far. I'm only 20% in (ten chapters read). I'll post a review when I've finished the book. This is another author that I would like to interview.

Speaking of author interviews, the world famous writer, traveler, and B&N frequenter DJ Butler has responded to my interview request. I expect to post the interview as soon as he responds to my annoying follow-up questions--and his response arrived before I completed this blog post--give me a day or two and the interview will appear.

As for reading, I read two other books--one book and a short story, actually.

As far as I know, this is the first book I've read by Farmer. I want to read some of his other works. This was a short story, or novella, with a Twilight Zone vibe. It was one of those stories where a more astute reader would have caught the coming ending more quickly than did I. It's not a very cheery read.

This book from the golden age of science fiction features a billionaire-scientist-inventor-soldier as the protagonist. The story begins with the discovery of an alien scout ship that speeds through the solar system using its superior technology to have its way with the human settlements and ships after the manner of a hot knife carving butter before heading homeward to assemble an invasion fleet. The protagonist must use the clues left by the alien to counter and overcome the alien technology. It's a battle for the solar system and the existence of the human race.

***

In conclusion, because it's tough to get enough Mark Twain quotes, here's this from Huckleberry Finn:
"Jim said bees wouldn't sting idiots; but I didn't believe that, because I had tried them lots of times myself, and they wouldn't sting me."

Best news of the day: Someone obtained a paperback copy of my detective novel Smoke and stopped me to tell me that they were enjoying it. Links to my books, including Smoke, are at the left hand side of this blog. Check them out for yourself.

That leads me to this painting by Thomas Badger. I have no idea what it's supposed to depict, but I think it represents writers tracking down a reader to insist that he post a review.

Speaking of reviews. I did finish

I picked it up with my prime membership for less than a song, free, in fact--which is precisely what it was worth to me. I have seen this book, or at least a book of Ellison's short stories with this name on the cover ever since I first started reading science fiction as a kid. The title alone struck me with all the sweetness of a shot of kerosene in a dirty glass with a needle in it. I always avoided it, even as a free library book. So why would I chose to read it now? I recently saw a documentary, or at least part of one, about Harlan Ellison. His life story was interesting, to severely understate the matter. In one clip he called Dan Simmons the best writer in the room. The show also indicated that those two writers had an extreme disagreement when they met, but the documentary didn't explain the nature of that disagreement. So the documentary prompted my curiosity, and I was also familiar with the Star Trek episode "City on the Edge of Forever" which Ellison wrote. Although that is a great episode, it's not my favorite. It is, however, much better than any of the stories in this book. Ellison is was (he passed away in 2018) obviously talented. He put words together in a way that piques my interest...and then consistently makes me sorry that I became interested. In these stories, he frequently launched a series of word punches with the apparent intent to pummel the reader into submission to  his innate superiority, to compel the reader into accepting the unbelievable story because he demanded it. It's a forced hallucinogenic trip by proxy, an overdose of LSD nihilism. I thought some of the stories had great potential and would have provided the settings for great novels. Instead, they all raced to the same rat hole of despair. I did enjoy a few of the stories until the endings. The endings were always predictable, saturnine, lugubrious, and grim. Of course, my opinion is vastly overshadowed by the hordes of Ellison fans. The guy can write. I'll have to try some of his other works to see if these stories merely represent one side of a great writer.

***

I'm suddenly reminded that I was thinking about actors that I would cast in roles for the characters in Threading the Rude Eye, and Power to Hurt. I think Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson would make a great Atu. I'm torn between a young Anna Friel and Zoe Boyle for the role of Cat. Jeremy Irons or Pierce Brosnan would be interesting choices to play Jonathan. Actually, I might like Irons for the role of Old Will. Antonio needs a young John Rhys-Davies type. A late 30ish Jeff Bridges might work for Charles, but I'm not sure about that one, as Charles keeps a lower profile than I've seen in a Bridges character. I wonder about the Alex and Lucette characters. I would play with the idea of a young Tom Cruise for Alex and a young Heather Lind for Lucette. I'm sure there are other good choices of actors who are the right age now, but they're not coming to mind. I may consider more roles, and reconsider these roles another time. It's not as if the series will be made into a movie in the near future.

Yesterday I divested the curtilage of Christmas cheer and yuletide delight. In other words, I de-lighted the exterior of the grounds with a sortie to take down some enemy combatants the Christmas lights. Wife and daughter flew close air support. Wife gathered each strand as I defused it, one by one. Daughter a seek and destroy rescue mission on the strands around the deck.

For Christmas itself, we had sickness in a plain brown wrapper. Law Student and his lovely family came Christmas Eve. The little Manette girl already had something, and shared with our couch some of the things she had eaten earlier. Law Student felt as if he wanted to engage in similar sharing but avoided such ostentatious displays. Nevertheless, the Ice Queen and Thor declined to bring the Corsican Brothers to such an environment. The next day, after the joyous morn, with breakfast for some, Law Student et al abandoned us to our own sad company--like process servers who had fulfilled their commission.

That evening, the Ice Queen and Thor did bring the Corsican Brothers for a nice dinner starring an old, dead, piece of pig -- which was quite tasty. Wife cooked it in the crock pot so I had the holiday off from the usual (and time consuming) application of heat and smoke to raw meat products. We contended with one another via a couple new games. The Jumanji Jungle game and Monopoly for Millennials. Thor prevailed in Jumani, while daughter got us all in an early headlock in Monopoly and eventually forced us all into submission for the win.

By way of entertainment, I treated myself to a re-watch of The Incredibles 2 on Netflix. The overblown trumpet blast attacks are the best. I'm sure I mentioned that the first time I talked about the movie. Yes, I did--at least a little. I'm happy to report much fun in the re-watch.

Today I substituted for the teacher in Sunday School as we discussed the last half of the book of Revelation. I thought it went a lot like this:

Except maybe the train didn't get quite so far on to the bridge before it all collapsed. Nevertheless, there was a point during the lesson when I grasped a great truth--that made it all worth it for me.

***

With the new year approaching like a wrecking ball, it's time for resolutions. For me, I know that I will go back to writing a minimum word count on weekdays. I've simply been writing without worrying about how much I write. I'm going to want to complete books 3 and 4 next year in the Tomahawk and Dragon Fire series -- and books 1 and 2 are only 99 cents each until the 31st. I'm currently on chapter 6 of Book 3.

Of course, there is more to self improvement than augmenting the word count. While I was looking for a Christmas picture to add after the first paragraph, I came across the picture below from a quiz I had taken a couple years ago.

I'm not sure if I should resolve to go from moderate to high, or from moderate to mild.

Are there Christmas songs you hate? -- My answer is at the end.

There are a lot of Christmas songs. Most of them are great. Nevertheless, many are the opposite of great. Most Christmas songs are eggnog and cookies, candy canes and Christmas trees, angels and hallelujas. Others are gray, gritty snow and cold sores; frozen pipes and an ice-ball in the face. I just watched Christmas with the Tabernacle Choir featuring Kristin Chenoweth. It was very nice. I could have listened for another hour. I also heard some great music at the service this morning. I remember other music I had heard in previous weeks. Some of the choirs, small groups, and solos I've heard have not been so great. I suppose that mix of talent and quality of performance is a good metaphor for life. Our efforts are sometimes excellent; at other times they don't live up to our hopes. I have to admire those who perform and fall short of excellence. They are out trying. Maybe they'll get better with time and experience. Some will never get better; they'll never reach excellence, yet they continue to strive. (I hope they're striving, and not merely showing up for performances to inflict pain on my eardrums). They're the souls in the arena.

In my own arena, I continue to write, churning out books that few will ever read. Maybe they will make a difference for someone who does read them. If someone smiles, laughs, catches of vision of the world in one of my stories that lets them escape the daily grind for a time and forget their troubles, think about some deeper meaning, or simply enjoy a story, I'll count that as a success. However, as satisfying as that is, I would not resist a boatload of royalty payments sailing my way. Unfortunately, if no one reads and thinks to leave a review, I'll never know how much they enjoyed my work--and that boatload of royalty payments will never dock in my bank account.

***

One reason I didn't get much writing done this week was because of daughters. It was a 3 daughter week. I had to go visit a couple of my daughters and sons-in-law for a few days and couldn't do any writing. It was a small price to pay for the trip. One daughter and son-in-law graduated from college and set sail for Arkansas the very next day. They've arrived in that land of opportunity. They're worried that they won't fit in because they're not cousins. (My sincerest apologies to the people of Arkansas for that joke. It was uncalled for and cannot even redeemed by being original. It's an old joke. I would like to promise that I won't make such jokes in the future--but I know myself too well for that). While one daughter and son-in-law were graduating and embarking for the wonder state, another daughter and son-in-law continued the struggle, looking forward to the day when they too can don the black moo-moo and mortar board hat, and step up to the launchpad and rocket to a new place with promising careers. The other daughter involved came with us. She got to spend quality time (which is code for shopping and playing games) with the sister with whom she shared a room and everything else for so many years. Now she's alone at home with grumpy, old mature parents who possess all the excitement of a discarded work boot--or so it seems from her perspective. What that really means is that she benefits from parents who have already successfully raised several other children to adulthood. What incredible wisdom, knowledge, and experience they must possess! Could she possibly be any luckier? I'm sure her answer would vary from mine.

We had a great time with all three daughters and both sons-in-law. The latter are fine gentlemen who are great matches for the two daughters. While the last daughter is only 16, she did have an unexpected encounter with a male individual during the trip. The graduation ceremonies concluded so late that most of the restaurants in town were closed. That left fast food as our only option. We adjourned to a Swedish diner famous for the image of the red-haired girl with the swooping braids. At one point, a young man of college age stopped at our table and asked if we were here for the graduation. Then he looked at the 16 year-old and said, "You're the cutest girl I've seen. I've been all over campus and never seen a girl as cute as you." --or words pretty close to that. My daughter responded, as did we all, with awkward silence. He likewise replied with a witty, mute, awkward repartee before hurrying out the door. At least that daughter gained an interesting story from the trip.

For the record, I killed at Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. I was much better at those than at the shopping activities. The bonus was the 28 mm cowboy figures one son-in-law printed on his 3d printer for me. Naturally, there's a lot more to tell, but I'm amazed anyone has read this far, so I won't add anything else about the trip. I won't go on about the songs we listened to on the way home and the memories they brought to the surface, or the minor car issue, or the premature departure and the call back, or the moving movie we watched, or the old friends encountered, or the... There's too much to include here, other than that it was great.

***

As for my answer to the Christmas songs I hate. Yes, I do have some, but it's simply not in my nature to dwell on the negative. (Maybe someday I'll be able to make that statement and believe it to be true. For now, I'm still working on that attitude). I would still love to here your responses.