20260623

[As usual, three weeks lag here, if you aren’t reading this on my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/blazeward). If you’d like your news fresher, and the monthly Anti-Stodgy/Redneck Chef newsletter, all I ask is a buck to help keep the lights on around here.]

Those of you reading this in three weeks, this is your sign from the heavens to gimme $1 a month on the patreon side of things(https://www.patreon.com/blazeward), so your news is a little more fresh.

Tomorrow, bright and (fucking) early, we’ll be headed out. Another epic road trip, this time to the Twin Cities. My birthday is Friday (57?!?) , plus my BIL and SIL celebrating 25 year anniversary with a mariachi band saturday, and several other birthdays all falling around this weekend. Most of the clan will be gathering, and we decided to make the trip. Flying or train were both about twice the cost of driving, plus I love a good road trip. Will wave at you from SD as we zoom by. Some of you already know and we’ve made arrangements for this weekend, but if you suddenly went boop, email me or text between now and Saturday and I can get you details. We’re only going to be in town until Monday morning, then driving home. But I haven’t gotten to see the grand-niblings since 2019, and some of them are taller than me now.

Gonna be awesome.

Writing: finished the sixth Mick story. Having fun turning that into a novel of darkness and mental health. Working on Derlyth 4 slowly. Harri 3. And close to finishing Corsac Fox 8, so probably another week there. (A week after I get back. Taking the writing phone but not the computer, and I won’t write much between now and July after today.)

Saw Mama Deer and her two zoomies several times this last week. She’s bedding them down on the hillside below the septic field or over the ridge behind the barn, but brings them out. We all had breakfast together Sunday, as she was feeding them while the Fabulous Publisher Babe™ and I fixed bacon and eggs. Squirrel and chipmunk babies are running around being dorks without adult supervision, so that’s been entertaining. Feeders have been emptied daily, and the gang is going to leave a 1-star yelp review when we’re gone for a week, but they do have the potential to eat other things. Even if the goofball Stellar Jays have learned from the Flickers how to eat from a suet feeder. (Always funny, because they don’t normally, so I’m introducing new evolutionary pressures around here. Heh.)

Past that, training continues apace. I’m probably in better shape today than I have been since I left Los Angeles in 1995, if that tells you anything. Test still likely sometime around the end of the year, if all goes well. I’m over 30k on a series of essays and articles currently (temporarily) entitled ‘My Blackbelt Journey.’ Sometime next year, I’ll sit down and organize it more into a descriptive text as a workbook to help training, by covering my interpretation of all the things that the curriculum contains.

Last night, learned (rough) the first half of a new kata. Seunchin (sp?). Core curriculum is Sanchin, Seisan, and Sanseru. To that, after black belt he adds Tencho, Seunchin, and Suparempe, plus one sai and one bo kata for one of three secondary fields of study (kata, weapons, and/or grappling). I also know Saifa and Gekisai-dai-ich, but those are just for knowledge and never going to be on any test, as far as I know.

And swinging heavy weights, plus carrying them. As I said, the goal is better shape at sixty than thirty, because I’d like to still be doing this at ninety. Got the genes for it. All four grandparents were in their seventies when they died, and all smoked, drank, and ate crap. Mom made it to eighty. Dad is still full of piss and vinegar at eighty-six. I can do this. And that’s thirty more years of writing, so the heirs will inherit one hell of a catalog, and hopefully it makes a difference in their lives, both for money and showing them that they can be successful artists, because that side of the family are all into art.

Past that, on the road this time tomorrow. See you in the Twin Cities. Or not.

shade and sweet water,

b

West of the Mountains, WA

—————————-

Thank you so much for being my patron and for funding these essays!

If you’re reading the free version (which is published three weeks after the Patreon version), please consider joining the ones who do pay at https://www.patreon.com/blazeward. It’s only a buck and helps keeps the lights on around here.

[As usual, three weeks lag here, if you aren’t reading this on my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/blazeward). If you’d like your news fresher, and the monthly Anti-Stodgy/Redneck Chef newsletter, all I ask is a buck to help keep the lights on around here.]

running a little late today, but that’s getting sidetracked first thing and the reminder just popped up. Usually, I see the 8am email go out, but I have a new phone and still getting things sorted out. Like alarms and reminders.

So anyway, hotter than snot these last few days. Like almost 90 in town yesterday, but I’d worn my kilt to prepare. And gotten up early to work out with Sensei, down on the river doing kata then back at his home dojo, before he cooked everyone breakfast and we played Shadowdark at his kitchen table instead of the book store. Just ‘cause.

I’m lacking adult supervision for a few days, with the Fabulous Publisher Babe™ out of town visiting her niece. Then, next week, another epic road trip, this time to Twin Cities for a major joint celebration. My 57^th birthday. BIL and SIL celebrating 25^th anniversary and they throw in their birthdays. Another friend turning 60. And the whole clan coming into town so I get to see folks for the first time since 2019 (last Xmas before Covid, and we’ve all gotten a little feral since then.

And I saw Mama Deer with two little zoomies bipping across the back yard this morning right under my writing window, so I’ve been smiling. Always enjoy when we get more deer. They live on property (I have 6 acres, mostly trees) so they have space. And Mama bedded them down on the hillside, so I’m staying away from that part of the property today. Expect to see her curled up for some Me-Time this evening, after she feeds them later. That’s normal with them. And got the big septic field with a lot of lines of sight and escape, so they feel comfortable.

And, as you know, they are utterly terrified of us. Utterly. More than once, they’ve looked up and kinda shrugged at me walking by. At least I won’t get mugged by them, unlike the rabbits.

And chipmunks, as you know, make lousy ninjas.

Writing: Corsac Fox 8 is past 50k, target 80. Rolling nicely along. Also working on more Mick Fitzpatrick, as I just finished story #5 and am starting to shape a novel with them. Also working on Derlyth 4 this morning. Only about a quarter done there, but that’s rolling slow because of his vocabulary and voice.

Am also on hold for the last whenever because they have an annoying system that pops up every ten seconds to tell me that I can have them call me back and then they start the exact same hillbilly guitar solo again. Heard fifteen seconds or so of it for half an hour. Annoying as fuck.

Which just makes me less and less likely to be nice to whoever I get on the other side, because while this is a store I like, they can make the sorts of decisions that make me shop anywhere else. Modern capitalism forgets that part. Or rather, they think that I have to accept their enshitification.

I do not. Am also grumpy at those fuckers. And building up to a good savage verbal mauling, because their enshitification has annoyed the fuck out of me before I had to call them to complain about something.

Hope your Tuesday is less aggravating than mine has been, but hey, I got trees, breeze, and zoomie fawns running around, so it ain’t all bad.

Also, just realized that I missed the reminder about Anti-Stodgy Newsletter, because new phone. Working on that next.

shade and sweet water,

b

West of the Mountains, WA

—————————-

Thank you so much for being my patron and for funding these essays!

If you’re reading the free version (which is published three weeks after the Patreon version), please consider joining the ones who do pay at https://www.patreon.com/blazeward. It’s only a buck and helps keeps the lights on around here.

[As usual, three weeks lag here, if you aren’t reading this on my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/blazeward). If you’d like your news fresher, and the monthly Anti-Stodgy/Redneck Chef newsletter, all I ask is a buck to help keep the lights on around here.]

June-uary. Utter freaking monsooneration all night, loud enough on the roof to wake me us several times. Would have slept in, but for that idiot woodpecker tapping three times then departing.

At least the woodpeckers and flickers have learned to be more polite this year. Instead of attacking the chimney pipe, I have one dork who lands up there and tags it exactly once, then waits. If I open a door and I thump the gutters, he’s off. If I don’t about five minutes later he does it again.

Because, honestly, they are a little bored and want to play. And smarter than most folks appreciate. Trainable. Like the hummingbirds who know which windows to hover outside of when they have complaints to management about the feeder. (Mine and hers, both)

Then there is “The Littlest Ninja.” (BTW, chipmunks make lousy ninjas, but don’t tell them. They seem to be having fun.)

Last Saturday, the Fabulous Publisher Babe™ was vending books at the Kent Nerd Walk and had the pavilion outside overnight, along with a bag holding the sides and top. When I went to load the truck, the littlest ninja was sitting inside the bag, just hanging out like he wanted to go with. Utterly terrified of us, too, because he jumped out and ran about five feet to climb up on top of a shovel and watch me load the pickup. And stayed there as I went back and forth.

Might be the same dork that comes over to my house occasionally, climbing up on the back porch and standing on hind legs to be able to look in the slider and see what’s going on.

Seriously. Dorks. But most of the critters around here have that same level of utterly terrified. Helps that I keep two big watering troughs in the yard for deer and elk. And have bricks in one so birds can land and drink safely.

June, so lots of critters around, as everything is green. Bird feeders are being emptied at least daily, maybe twice, depending, as there are little ones needing food too. Should start seeing fawns shortly, as I have two does that live on the property and they had three last year. Little zoomies running around when they get comfortable.

On the writing side, I took the weekend off and didn’t write. Edited some, instead. There will be three new character collections coming in the fall. Eva and Nik, Brother Jon. Laima Ghur. All right around 55k and ready to go. Even have covers, but need to do print wrap covers.

These are over and above the novels coming out, as Matt suggested that we treat the fall like a presidential election year. Those are the autumns where folks stop reading fiction, instead largely focused on the news instead. Summer is always something of a down time, as folks might go to the beach and read, but are usually busy doing things and not reading. Then in September, summer is over and sales recover.

Except in presidential years. Planning ahead and battening down the hatches a bit this summer and fall, just in case. And putting out some extra stuff to maybe score a few bucks here and there.

Corsac Fox 8 continues apace. Right around 35k at the moment, on the way to a target of around 80k, like the rest of them. Also working on Derlyth 4 in the background, so that I can drop a large swath of urban fantasy sometime next year, as well as maybe several thrillers.

I’m generally about a year ahead in my writing. Or more. Try to keep a long gap, so that I can write at my pace and not have to be rushed to finish something. Would like to nail down Scattered Tribes 4 & 5 this summer/fall, so I can drop them next fall/winter and maybe go on to the spin-off series that was actually the original idea, before I realized how much world-building was needed there.

Hope you folks enjoyed The Gardener. As noted, got more Mick coming. More darkness, but I might lean into longer pieces now, similar to how Ollie (Shadow of the Ancients) started as several shorts and turned into novels. Same as Scattered Tribes 1 that many of you read here.

Mostly puttering. It’s Tuesday and I can. Hope yours is a little drier.

shade and sweet water,

b

West of the Mountains, WA

—————————-

Thank you so much for being my patron and for funding these essays!

If you’re reading the free version (which is published three weeks after the Patreon version), please consider joining the ones who do pay at https://www.patreon.com/blazeward. It’s only a buck and helps keeps the lights on around here.

[As usual, three weeks lag here, if you aren’t reading this on my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/blazeward). If you’d like your news fresher, and the monthly Anti-Stodgy/Redneck Chef newsletter, all I ask is a buck to help keep the lights on around here.]

Tuesday. Coffee warming in the microwave. Need caffeine. Idiot woodpecker wanted to share the word about his dread lord Woody at 545 this morning. Joys of living in the brush.

Brighter side, just had a tiny bunny hop past my window a minute ago. Haven’t had buns around here in a while (coyotes and hawks).

Summer has begun. This weekend, accompanying the Fabulous Publisher Babe™ to one of her in-person sales events in Kent (Nerd Fest) to help her sell books and generally hang out. I’m getting better about peopling, but lemme tell you, I’ve gotten a little feral these days.

Hard time for creative artists. Average people have fallen in love with how easy AI makes it to create art and books, without ever asking where those machines learned. The folks responsible stole everything and didn’t pay a cent for the copyright infringement. Imagine me walking into your house and emptying the refrigerator, then leaving. That’s that AI is to writers and artists.

Known several folks who have seen their sales tank bad enough that they’ve had to go back to work. I live in fear of it, but that doesn’t pay the bills. If you use AI, understand that I consider you among the lowest forms of thief. You should stop. Or walk away from being around me. Either or. I’ve walked away from folks who were excited to tell me how they used AI to “write” their book and publish it. Last person, I’ve stayed in touch with since 1987. Won’t be talking to him again. Possibly ever.

I write. That involved thinking words up and putting them down, then selling them to people. How much effort did you put in?

Yeah, grumpy.

Past the quarter mark on Corsac Fox 8. Writing this one kinda into darkness, by setting up a scenario, populating it with some interesting characters and ideas, then letting them take me places instead of having a plot. All I know at this point is length. And got lots of story to fill to get there,

Also started the fifth Mick story. You’re getting #1 tonight, some of you. The Warrior In The Garden. Been slowly worldbuilding this out as I go, and have some interestingly dark places to take Mick, because Corsac Fox tends to be lighter and I just finished the Urban Fantasy about a thief and his Marxist Awakened Goat sidekick. Not exactly sober and serious literature, as you can guess.

Not a lot of news past that. Summer has started and that’s a mental and emotional transition for most US-ians. Since I don’t have kids in school or dayjob, it tends to blur, save that I’m mowing a lot right now until the dry season arrives in a month.

Y’all have fun and remember to read Thrill Ride Magazine (Assassins and Vigilantes just dropped) and Boundary Shock Quarterly (Space Westerns coming July 1). Keeps me off the streets, ya know.

shade and sweet water,

b

West of the Mountains, WA

—————————-

Thank you so much for being my patron and for funding these essays!

If you’re reading the free version (which is published three weeks after the Patreon version), please consider joining the ones who do pay at https://www.patreon.com/blazeward. It’s only a buck and helps keeps the lights on around here.

[As usual, three weeks lag here, if you aren’t reading this on my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/blazeward). If you’d like your news fresher, and the monthly Anti-Stodgy/Redneck Chef newsletter, all I ask is a buck to help keep the lights on around here.]

More Karate news, just ‘cause. Planted a makawara over the weekend. “Planted.”

Five gallon bucket. Upright 2×6. 60# bag of instant concrete. Assemble and add water. Let cure for a week.

Plant.

Training the fists involves punching things. Set in the ground, even a 100# anchor will give, and it is padded, so you practice without injury. Still raining and settling, so I won’t strike it for a few days, but it is there. Part of the black belt test, along with Hojo Undo (training with certain equipment. Hammers to swing. Jars to carry. Maces to crunch. Etc.)

But this is a lifetime sort of thing.

Writing: Finished the first Emmett McCall book. Urban Fantasy about a cat burglar and his partner, who happens to be a Marxist Goat. Yes, you heard me. First of a starting trilogy, right at 40k. Lots of fun and twists from what I usually write, but that was where writer-brain wanted to go.

After that, I sat down with Corsac Fox 6 & 7 and reread both. Then started 8, tentatively titled Sailing Into Darkness. What I promised at the end of 7, so making up new cultures and species as we explore Imperial Sector Thirty-Two, coreward from both 14 and 21.

Just started, so 7k in, but having fun. Got four Mick stories so far and sat down last night to actually start exploring where to take the longer arc. Gonna go dark, but that’s not a surprise.

I tend to bounce between emotional and genre extremes, as you have noted if you pay attention to these. Big, chewy space opera to little stories. Light to dark and back. Huge casts and small things.

Keeps me from writing the same story over and over again, which can happen to some writers if they aren’t forever stretching their minds. The ruts become channels of least resistance.

Ick.

Things like Marxist Goats. Or Zhyrgal Sulaymanov, all grown up now and doing things with Uly and Dan. Or Mick, dealing with his own skeletons while trying to uncover Andi’s. And why they both have ghosts. Got some ideas. Gonna be fun. Gonna be rude. Gonna be me.

Not a lot past that. Transition emotionally from Spring to Summer, but not a lot changes around here. Had a couple of strangers show up to the Writers Lunch.

Pardon. Couple of dork Robins running around below my window. Young adult male and possibly juvenile female following him around. Big brother little sister. Got lots of robins and I turned over an ant nest the other day to make a salad bar for them. HAPPY robins.

Back to story. And stuff.

Hope you survived the holiday mostly intact and not too badly hung over. Heavy drizzle here, so staying inside with coffee.

shade and sweet water,

b

West of the Mountains, WA

—————————-

Thank you so much for being my patron and for funding these essays!

If you’re reading the free version (which is published three weeks after the Patreon version), please consider joining the ones who do pay at https://www.patreon.com/blazeward. It’s only a buck and helps keeps the lights on around here.

[As usual, three weeks lag here, if you aren’t reading this on my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/blazeward). If you’d like your news fresher, and the monthly Anti-Stodgy/Redneck Chef newsletter, all I ask is a buck to help keep the lights on around here.]

Following on from last week, Mick has a lot of opinions. Have four of these done in a week. Longer than a chapter, shorter than a story, I’m calling them serialized vignettes for now. And making up the world-building on the fly, even as I maintain the Urban Fantasy story I’m about halfway through. Weird emotional mix, but apparently what writer-brain needed after finishing Kincaide. Little over ten thousand words across four of them.

And dojo last night was an interesting and novel experience.

I broke a rock.

In karate, some folks break boards to show off hands that should be registered as deadly weapons. Whatever. Sensei knows the technique for breaking rocks. In his case, either with the knife edge of the palm (outer edge by the pinkie) or the fist. He did both last night.

And he has had three of us training our hands by striking door frames and other things that don’t move. After a month, he sat us down with rocks and explained the technique. It isn’t a trick, but there is physics involved.

More importantly, it was about understanding that you could break rocks. Could hit something that hard and not hurt yourself, because most training in a dojo runs soft and careful, save for occasional moments where you warn your training partner ahead of time that you are going to step up EXACTLY ONCE then bring it back down. That lets both of you see what feels like.

So, I broke a rock. Kinda kewl. Will break other rocks at some point. Right now, the black belt test has started, and will run until December. A good teacher makes sure that the student learns it, learns it well, learns it right, and grows. Some teachers have to make things all about themselves, making the student look back during the test, and really making themselves look bad instead.

Here, I will be dialing things in and demonstrating proficiency, competence, confidence, and whatever knowledge. When he thinks I have it all, he’ll stand me up in front of the room and we’ll do the big test, but that’s an hour at most. Do the kata. Do the drills. Dance with a training partner.

Then I will have achieved a level that says I am ready to actually start learning. Because that’s all a black belt indicates.

Story: Emmett McCall is at 25k. Feels like 45k, in something of a weird 2-Act piece, but that’s fine. New everything here. Urban Fantasy with an Awakened Goat who is a Hegelian Trotskyite with an oversized keyboard, because on the internet, nobody knows you are a goat.

Mick, as noted, 10k. Have a couple of other stories out there in open states to go after as I finish things up, but I’m a full year and change ahead of myself writing, so I can dabble and wander from time to time.

And let writer-brain get a little hinky.

—–

seriously?

Stupid hummingbird hovering in front of me, about two meters away outside the window.

Normally, that’s complaints about the feeder, so I need to go check.

Pixie T-Rexs, man…

More soon.

shade and sweet water,

b

West of the Mountains, WA

—————————-

Thank you so much for being my patron and for funding these essays!

If you’re reading the free version (which is published three weeks after the Patreon version), please consider joining the ones who do pay at https://www.patreon.com/blazeward. It’s only a buck and helps keeps the lights on around here.

20260512

[As usual, three weeks lag here, if you aren’t reading this on my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/blazeward). If you’d like your news fresher, and the monthly Anti-Stodgy/Redneck Chef newsletter, all I ask is a buck to help keep the lights on around here.]

Occasionally, shit gets weird. And I mean by my standards. Coloring FAR outside the lines y’all folks are used to.

I am, however, both a professionally trained philosopher and a professional writer, so I have learned to roll with it.

Yesterday, the usual Monday morning DND game got canceled when the GM got held over at the fire station. (Usually, he gets off shift at 6am, but obviously someone called off sick and he was there until noon.) Had that message when I crawled out of bed at 7, but decided to keep my Monday as close to normal as possible anyway.

Went down and got breakfast as usual.

Went over for coffee and sat to write for an hour. As usual. Essay for an upcoming anthology where I got to guest-edit.

The usual would be to hit the bookstore when it opened and game. Instead, I had brought stuff with me to work on the tabletop game I’m designing, spreading my shit out all over the table and making notes here and there on a lot of papers.

Game is coming together nicely. Couple of playtests that revealed problems with the economic system. Changes yesterday made things flow faster (I think) and easier. Probably recruit a group and run a test at some point. Need to collect tokens and shit, but that’s easy enough.

But on the drive south, I had a nagging pain in my kidneys that turned out to be a new character poking me to get my attention.

You folks know me. I like playing (and writing) against type, because after 45 years of DND, I have played all the basic configurations of characters at least three times.

Same in the writing. Normal characters are boring, which is why so many writers invent Chosen Ones™ to have destiny thrust upon them with all of the Tolkien/Rowling bullshit thrown into the gumbo.

</Yawn>

But there was a meme I saved years ago about playing against type. Or casting against type. It was for Star Trek: Next Gen era. (Gotta be specific because the amount of time from Captain James T. Kirk (TOS, 2266 CE) to Captain Nahla Ake (Academy, 3195 CE) is only slightly shorter than the period between today and when William the Conqueror died in 1086.)

The Meme talked about playing against type. A Betazed Weapons Officer who was hungry to kick ass. A Klingon counselor who understood that mental health was just as much an honorable battle as anything in an arena. That sort of thing.

Driving, that little voice quoted the old saying, “It is better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war.” He’s not Klingon, but they would adopt the guy. Broken. Recovering from naval service (and I know a lot of veterans that came out broken and more than a little crazy) by working in his garden. Embodying the warrior in a garden ethos.

Then somebody shows up to ruin his day. And recruit him back to active duty, helping someone else that needs it. Someone who has been there, and can understand. Someone who has a personal connection that will make things both easier and harder.

Putting it into a space adventure setting, because that’s me. It could just as easily be private detective fiction or anything else, because it will be a story about relationships and recovery. Burnout that doesn’t kill you. It merely makes you shift to doing the job on paper and nothing more.

We’ve all worked there. You want to make a difference and make things better. Eventually, most institutions grind you down and you are just there for the paycheck. HR is not your friend. They work for the bosses as boot lickers protecting the corporation from being culpable for how they treat employees.

Eventually, you are just treading water and don’t give a fuck.

We’ve all worked there.

That’s the sign you need a new job. A new employer. A new career. A new industry.

Something.

I was lucky enough to skip across several industries in my computer days, from property management to paratransit to health to legal claims settlement.

Every corporation reaches a certain mass and metastasizes into a beast that consumes lives and spits out profit.

And you can’t quit the navy. Not really. You can serve out your time and get honorably discharged if you want benefits later. Or lose your mind and get tossed into the corner like a broken doll. Known a few folks who danced that line. And were broken civilians.

So I wrote a story yesterday. Out of the blue. New universe, new setting, new everything. Literally writing story, then switching files to record details as they emerged from the subconscious. It’s short. You’ll probably get it June 1. Might be more of them, because Mick has opinions and will give us a really different take on the classical (semi-)military space adventure.

You have been warned.

🙂

shade and sweet water,

b

West of the Mountains, WA

—————————-

Thank you so much for being my patron and for funding these essays!

If you’re reading the free version (which is published three weeks after the Patreon version), please consider joining the ones who do pay at https://www.patreon.com/blazeward. It’s only a buck and helps keeps the lights on around here.

[As usual, three weeks lag here, if you aren’t reading this on my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/blazeward). If you’d like your news fresher, and the monthly Anti-Stodgy/Redneck Chef newsletter, all I ask is a buck to help keep the lights on around here.]

It’s misting almost heavy enough to be called drizzle.

I moved to Seattle for the rain, so this puts a smile on my face. Especially after my weekend.

Saturday night about 5pm, the alarm on the septic systems went off. Loud buzzing that took me a bit to sort out. Then outside and find the shutoff for the siren.

Then inside and onto the internet, researching why septic alarms go off. Lots of reasons, some benign, like the tank got too much water suddenly and couldn’t pump fast enough. Others involve failures of components.

Did what I could, waited until Sunday to see if a couple of them worked. Nothing.

Called my septic folks and left a vmail.

They open at 730 on weekdays. She called me at 740. Was actually headed to breakfast, so turned around and called her when I got home. She walked me through various checks, then determined that the pump might have died.

Lemme tell you, yuck.

Head back south, waiting for the estimate.

Fabulous Publisher Babe™ calls me a couple of hours later because the tanks are making strange noises.

At some point, as part of the phone call, I had left the pump on manual. After a delay long enough for me to get gone, it had run. And pumped the secondary tank DRY. Didn’t know that at the time.

Got the estimate, which included $1800 to pump that tank empty, plus $2200 for a new pump.

Yuck.

Cut my day off and headed to Home Depot and rented a pump, all set to save myself a shitton of cash. Got home with it and that’s when I realized the pump was working. Called the Septic folks and she walked me through a full visual inspection, taking notes for her guys. Still needs something, but not an expensive pump replacement, so I turn around and take the pump back, having had it for an hour and a half, with most of that being driving.

Guys arrived here at 735 this morning. Local, but damned local, if they set out at 730.

Quick inspection, since they have most of the notes already. Float had died, so they put in a new one and I’ll get a much smaller bill sometime after they write it up. Plus a formal inspection at some point this summer. Dunno about pumping the main tank. Gotta do that every once in a while as it fills with sludge.

The guys were gone by 805. Not on site thirty minutes to replace a float and go.

There is a reason I love my septic company. Cheerful and stone pros.

But yesterday took a lot of spoons out of me and today the rains are putting them slowly back.

I did finish Kincaide 3 over the weekend. 185k. Rougher than most, but that’s taking four months, so I am certain I have details wrong in places and need to fix. Putting it aside for a bit and will deal with it later.

May is probably short fiction month. Need more Zach and Redlance stories. Writing Beckett 9 now. Brain had a good start on Derlyth 4, which is novel. Charlotte 2 and 3. Couple of others.

No idea what the next of several possible major projects I’ll go after. If you have a need, give a yell and maybe inspire me. Or at least lean me.

Slow day. Possibly slow month. Unlikely to crack writing ten novel projects this year, and that’s fine. Maybe a bunch of novellas instead. Last Stand 13 is coming in July. Need to write more of those. And other things.

Right now, I just need rain.

shade and sweet water,

b

West of the Mountains, WA

—————————-

Thank you so much for being my patron and for funding these essays!

If you’re reading the free version (which is published three weeks after the Patreon version), please consider joining the ones who do pay at https://www.patreon.com/blazeward. It’s only a buck and helps keeps the lights on around here.

[As usual, three weeks lag here, if you aren’t reading this on my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/blazeward). If you’d like your news fresher, and the monthly Anti-Stodgy/Redneck Chef newsletter, all I ask is a buck to help keep the lights on around here.]

Tuesday. Coffee on deck. Lots of coffee.

Had a bear Sunday night. (actually about 1am Monday morning, but, you know.) Trying to get into the compost bin and bashing it with a paw. Black bears around here. Either just woken up and hungry, or just kicked out on his own and looking for territory. And I’m surrounded by green immediately and rednecks beyond that, so they don’t stay.

But him, bashing on the drum. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Jump up, run to the other end of the house and smack on a window right over his head. Blur hauling ass for the far end of the yard as I get round to the door and turn on the outside light. Give him a ten count before opening the door to yell.

Get them every year. Either into the trash cans, the compost rollers, or my wife’s bird feeders. Got lucky here, because the rollers are 30” tubes and you have to slide the hatch sideways. Everything black, slider green. Always wondered if bears are color-blind green not to see that. Only ever had one actually open it.

Writing: Good news: Kincaide is at 168k this morning before I start. Bad News: It’s gonna be longer than expected. Probably 200, so not done this week as expected.

Shit happens. Also have several other stories in motion on the phone. Harri 3. Derlyth 4. Plus short stuff I’ve been banging out regularly.

And you’ll have to wait until the Anti-Stodgy news to hear about my night last night. It was a little weird, but perfectly in line with my life these days. And none of it was my fault. Always good to clarify.

Probably need to go make more coffee. One cup isn’t even cutting the gunk in my head at the moment. But things are really a lot better these days than they were. Did a martial arts seminar these last two Friday nights down in Tacoma. Khmer art called Bokatar. The Sensei was really expert and a good teacher. Learned a couple of excellent nuggets, but you reach a point where there are only so many ways to move a human body, so it comes down to who focuses on what. His was a couple of shifts over from what I do these days. Lots of the underlying mechanics were the same, just in different sequence.

But you always have to keep learning, because as soon as you stop going uphill, you start going downhill. Eventually you end up in a recliner watching TV and turning to mush. Not for me.

Past that, more Kincaide. Done as soon as he lets me go, but likely at least another week of his craziness. Then on to SOMETHING else. Dunno what yet. This has been the heavy emotional lifting all year, and I’m not looking beyond it until it’s done.

But it’s coming.

Yay.

shade and sweet water,

b

West of the Mountains, WA

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Thank you so much for being my patron and for funding these essays!

If you’re reading the free version (which is published three weeks after the Patreon version), please consider joining the ones who do pay at https://www.patreon.com/blazeward. It’s only a buck and helps keeps the lights on around here.

[As usual, three weeks lag here, if you aren’t reading this on my Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/blazeward). If you’d like your news fresher, and the monthly Anti-Stodgy/Redneck Chef newsletter, all I ask is a buck to help keep the lights on around here.]

Tuesday. Late April. Kincaide is sitting at 1533k at this point, that slow grind because I want this to read slow so I have to take my time writing it.

Meanwhile, other projects flow in the background. Third Harri is started. Fourth Derylth (No, I have no idea why) popped up over the weekend and I’m a good chunk into it on the phone.

Humor generally better, but largely ignoring the interwebs today. Too many people in foul moods swinging live cats around. (Dead cats don’t lead with claws out.)

Too many other people asking why we can’t just get along, when there are some hurtful, malicious folks out there, pretending to be ignorant.

I always tell folks that they can push me backwards off the table, but lots of ijits don’t grasp that. Until it’s too late, anyway.

I will argue with you in good faith, if I think I can convince you and get you to change your mind. At some point however, recalcitrance sets in and mules digs hooves. Start swinging live cats. Or edges weapons.

I won’t stay around if I expect you to slam a [metaphorical, usually] knife into my kidneys when I’m not looking. And hurt dogs howl, so I listen to the words that come out of folks mouths when they get angry.

In vino, veritas works just as well for rage. Folks forget which set of lies they’ve been speaking and the truth comes out.

The truth always comes out.

But I won’t fight you at that point. Won’t raise my voice.

Will walk. Won’t look back.

Couple of folks out there won’t even notice I left, but they don’t know me at all. Just happened to be folks I previously found interesting, until I happened to be in the room when they went off on a rampage. Racist. Sexist. Homophobic. Don’t really care why you decided to show your whole ass to the internet.

Am paying attention. Don’t have time for your bullshit or your swinging blades.

Because you are supposed to be an adult. So either you aren’t, or this is what you think is acceptable behavior.

No. But thank you for playing. And best of luck at whatever. I’ll be off enjoying myself someplace that doesn’t involved children like you throwing tantrums.

The rest of you might draw lessons from my experiences. Might remember folks that you haven’t seen in a while and suspect that they found your behavior questionable.

How are you working to make yourself a better person?

shade and sweet water,

b

West of the Mountains, WA

—————————-

Thank you so much for being my patron and for funding these essays!

If you’re reading the free version (which is published three weeks after the Patreon version), please consider joining the ones who do pay at https://www.patreon.com/blazeward. It’s only a buck and helps keeps the lights on around here.