Welcome back to O Human Star, and thank you for your patience as I took some time to work on Kickstarter stuff. So here are a few points of order:
I’ve uploaded a few new pieces of fan art to the Extras page – and remember that you can link me to art at any time and I’ll try to remember to add it! I love all the art you’ve sent me.
Finally, I encourage you to check out this poster I designed last month, which I’ve put up for sale on InPRNT with artist proceedings going to the Sylvia Rivera Law Project. SRLP provides important resources for trans people of color and/or low income, so please consider them as one of your holiday charities this year.
That’s all for now. Let’s resume twice-weekly updates!
I’ve been doing lots of comics all over the internet. Check ’em out:
Dave Kellett’s DRIVE
- Rare Earths: Page One
- Rare Earths: Page Two
- Rare Earths: Page Three
- Rare Earths: Page Four
- Rare Earths: Page Five
- Rare Earths: Page Six NEW!
- Rare Earths: Page Seven NEW!
- Rare Earths: Page Eight NEW!
I hope you enjoy all these comics!
SPECIAL HOLIDAY SALE EVENT THINGAROONIE
Every* order I get in the online store this week, from Right Now At Monday Update O’Clock to the Monday update seven days from now, will get a free character magnet included! Just thrown right in there. You can’t choose your magnet — it’ll be random — but, hey, free character magnet! Buy a book? Free magnet! Buy a buttload of books? Free magnet! Buy magnets? STILL A FREE ADDITIONAL MAGNET.
*does not include buying the links to Joyce and Walky! comics, because i can’t throw a magnet into an email
Yesterday in my heart: Will I always be this broked.
Yesterday in my Soul: Oh sweetheart what to do but keep getting through? What to do?
Decided to ignore everything but my Soul. Put my sneakers on, get the hell out of my house. Go for a long long walk. Tourists travel from all over the world to see the beautiful sights that are just down the road from me.
As soon as I got outside my front door (didn't lock it, couldn't find my key, got nothing to steal anyway) .. I came across this bunch of stuff in boxes in the landing that one of my neighbours Gary put there. LAUGHED when I saw this random pamphlet on top.
EVERYBODY LOVES A WINNER YOU GUYS! Therefore everybody hates a loser? Conundrum.
Started walking. And walking .. and walking. No running, cannot commit to that right now but jeez I walked. Listened to Sia over and over again in my headphones which for some reason made me CRY. Sick of goddamn crying so I started flicking through my playlist. EVERY time a song came on it remained me of a person or a memory or a sad hard thing. Walking down near the multitude of tourists by then and did not care how I appeared as I said out loud to each rejected song .. "NUH." "NO." "FUCK THIS ONE." Every song that came on was annoying! You know how sometimes you need a whole new bunch of songs?
Hitting the Three Sisters (not literally, couldn't reach) .. I was judging the people and their selfie sticks, full backpacks equipped with practical things like mosquito repellant, bottles of water. I just had a hat, headphones and sneakers and hadn't even locked my front door. There was only one option at that point - Eminem. And I felt it all rising up, the energy of the anger and the force of the words hitting headphones like punches and I felt BETTER you know why?
It feels much, much, better to feel angry than hurt.
My angry anger all these years has masked all the things I do not want to feel. Anger is easy. Feeling your pain sad loneliness lies regret - THAT shit is hard. Over six months on the straight and narrow and boyo boy am I feeling and I do not like it. So thanks Slim, for helping me stomp my sneakers to the goddamn lookout and admire the wonderful breathtaking view right near my house. Obviously I took a photo (angrily) because these days how do we know where we've been or what we've done without taking a photo? Prefer it back in the olden days when we just experienced our experiences and committed them to memory.
Yeah so that's pretty I mean I've even got some tree in the pic to frame it nicely and how cool are cloud shadows. As I snapped this Whatever I Am was blasting my ears so loud the two French guys next to me visibly startled and my head was so mean - go spray your mozzie spray and leave me be you guys. Walked back on the trail past two young Asian girls - one of them was wearing silver sandals with high heels I mean come on. Really? Who does that.
And then .. then, back at Echo Point to start my incline home I happened to swat a fly just as the cutest little boy walked past and he mistook my swat for wave. And he waved back, his face broke in a huge beautiful smile. So I waved back to his wave back because my first wave wasn't a real wave it was a swat but this time, after seeing his shining face, I meant my wave.
Wave at kids, Eden. Stop being an arsehole. My whole mindset changed. We judge other people to make ourselves feel better, probably because we're judging ourselves the most.
Walked less stompy up the big hill thinking about things. Not being able to make other people change, act differently, or even love us - no matter how hard we try! No matter even that. Acceptance why you so painful. (It's painful because it's so hard to do.)
Ok so THEN I saw a Wanked Campervan looming in garish hues before me up the hill and I just thought oh no no no please do not be an awful one. People know how I feel about these vans, how I've vandalised them, how revolting the slogans usually are: "Blowjobs - the only way to shut a woman up." "I can already imagine the gaffer tape around your mouth." "Inside every little princess is a slut wanting to try it just once." "Make the world a better place, shoot a gay."
Yeah. Oh dear lord if this van was a truly horribly offensive van I knew I'd most likely grab a stick and hammer it until dents appeared because I just wasn't in the mood. And I can't do that I'll get in trouble, big trouble. It was just this slogan. Stupid, lame slogan. But one day .. one day these vans will begone. I've chosen this particular battle to keep fighting, even though others say "What's the point? Stop putting energy into it, they're harmless." No they're not.
We don't choose our wars we choose to keep fighting, whatever the fight might be. And we can't win them all hey maybe losing is winning anyway. Or maybe sometimes there's no winners.
Anyway so here's a sweaty unfiltered face .. people these days take sweaty selfies to prove they've done exercise?
By the time I got home after a two-hour stomp feelings walk I FELT BETTER. Hey I don't want to alarm anybody but there's a LOT to be said for walking, yoga, pilates, all that shit. Moving our bodies and getting out there in the world to change our mindsets and achy hips and belittling brains, broken hearts, and sad Souls.
I'm going to keep this shit up because I told myself I'm going to keep this shit up. Apparently the human body should be made to sweat at least twice a day so I need discipline, chutzpah, determination and just not think, not listen to head, get out there do whatever work needs to be done.
Nobody can do that for us. It's not their job.
It's hard, to stop dwelling and living in the past. Our past is just a story. So the end of this particular story is that I had a shower and stretched out on my living room floor where I live, nobody had broken into my house there's nothing to steal when I'm not there. When I am there? There's a host, a plethora of things to steal from inside us, thing is, nobody gets to do that without our consent. Therefore I rescind the invitation to all vampires from my house.
Zipped up my backbone, put myself back together again, chucked a few pretty flowers and even prettier weeds in there for good measure. DECIDED to just live hope and love and gentleness. I've done it before. I can do it again and so can goddamn you. Yesterday? Yesterday is gone.
It's gone. Feet forward. Move forward. Write forward - craft forward cook forward forgive forward work forward hell even fuck forward - ANYTHING. Because it's time to forget yesterday. Yesterday has already forgotten us.
... yeah, I wish I had kept a journal, because my memories of that time are so sparse. And the photos are all prints, so they don't just come up when I'm scrolling through my phone.
I remember that the second Christmas, my brother-in-law sent the kidlet some electronic toy, and the kidlet touched it, and it sprang to life with a musical chord and a cartoonish voice saying, "Hi, there!", and the kidlet very firmly pushed it away and said, "Too noising."
I remember being up until the middle of the night putting the damned kitchen set together -- it was a gift from my parents, and I had assumed that it arrived all assembled (poor innocent that I was), so it hadn't occurred to me to open it up in advance. But I remember that kitchen set so fondly, and all the imaginary meals cooked on it, and all the conversations with "Mrs. Moldiwarp" had on the attached phone.
Mom remembers the kidlet climbing up to the back of the big chair (the one I'm sitting in now) with the Little Golden Book of Christmas Carols, singing some random words, climbing down, and saying, "Sing Si' Night book self!"
An older friend of mine used to tell me, "The hours are long but the years are short," and that is so true.
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Site performance may continue to be rocky on and off for the next few days until we get everything tuned the way it needs to be tuned -- thank you for your patience!
This blog cogently summarizes the damaging ableist assumptions in the latest J K Rowling movie. She sees the death of a disabled character treated without any true concern.
I could’ve swung either way? But now I’m definitely spending
the next 4 years converting your daughters to lesbianism;
I’m gonna eat all your guns. Swallow them lock stock and barrel
and spit bullet casings onto the dinner table;
I’ll give birth to an army of mixed-race babies.
With fathers from every continent and genders to outnumber the stars,
my legion of multiracial babies will be intersectional as fuck
and your swastikas will not be enough to save you,
( because real talk, you didn't stop the future from coming. )
Think some awful thoughts and say some awful words and don't think no more about reforming. Take up the wickedness of liberation, and if you can think of anything worse, do that, too. As long as you're in, and in for good, you might as well go the whole hog.
A short commercial interlude
Just so you know why I've been quiet lately, it's because this book-shaped object is now on its way to the copy editor for publication in late June/early July next year (assuming we survive that long.)
The UK edition is going to be published by Orbit, as usual, and that's their cover on the left (or above, depending on your browser). But in the United States, the series is now moving to Tor.com Publishing; so there's a whole new cover design coming. (To be clear: earlier books will remain with Ace, but "The Delirium Brief" and subsequent novels will come from Tor.)
However, that's not my next book! This is:
It's coming out in late Jannuary ... and I'm going to have a lot more to say about Empire Games very soon! (In the meantime here are the UK Kindle edition and the US Kindle edition. NB: if you pre-ordered the UK hardcover, you probably want to cancel that order and try again. Tor UK made a late decision to switch the book to trade paperback, so existing pre-orders for the now non-existent UK hardback have probably vanished into limbo: on the bright side, their trade paperback edition should match the Merchant Princes omnibuses in size. The US hardcover is still A Thing.)
And now you know why I've been kind of quiet for the past few months. It's not just the insanely depressing news environment for 2016 (about which I'll have something else to say, when I've finally digested the indigestible implications); I've been gearing up to produce two books a year for the next few years, I've had to rewrite half a Laundry novel (because Brexit ruined the original plot of The Delirium Brief), and as I move to new publishing arrangements I'm busy working on my Next Big Thing, a space opera titled Ghost Engine which is only tenuously related to anything I've written before (hint: Palimpsest, only for intergalactic expansion over the next million years).
I have mixed feelings. Every now and then I catch myself looking longingly at a toy catalog or a coloring book. Little kids actually like toys and play with them. Teenagers give you a sympathetic glance full of shared nostalgia, but really all they want is money.
On the other hand, when your kid is a high school senior:
- Yes, there are still kids' performances to go to this time of year, but they're well-done and genuinely entertaining.
- If something needs assembly, you can hand it to the kid and say, "Here. Your eyes are better than mine."
- You don't have that period right after a gift-giving holiday when your living room is so full of brightly colored plastic that you can't walk across it.
- Teenagers know their limits, so you don't have to be the one doing all the tantrum-prevention duty.
I got particularly lucky because the kidlet's new favorite thing to do on Christmas morning is cook a huge breakfast.
So I'd have to say that on the whole the balance is with the older kid.
On the other hand, my best friend, who got her spawning done much younger than I did, has been rewarded with a brand-new grandchild, and that's looking like it might be the best option of all.
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( The questions thus far are under here. )