This past weekend, I went to the ribbon cutting ceremony of a new boba tea shop. The area in which I live is not particularly well known for its boba places, so this was quite exciting as someone who loves the stuff. Prior to this place opening in Troy about thirty minutes from me, the closest place was an hour away in Dayton. I can’t express how nice it is to not have to drive all the way to Dayton just for a drink.
Their opening was highly anticipated, especially because they opened up right in the center square of downtown, which is pretty much the best location a business owner in Troy could hope for. So I made it a point to go to their ribbon cutting ceremony, and it was quite nice!
As you can see, everyone wanted to catch the special theatrical moment on camera. I know I did, as I have only ever seen ribbon cutting with giant scissors in movies and TV. Where do you even buy scissors like that?
The whole town’s committee and mayor was there, congratulating the owners and workers on their opening.
After they cut the ribbon, everyone lined up, and the line went all the way out to the parking lot! It was huge (and I was pretty damn close the end), but the wait was totally worth it.
Also, the windows out front had the cutest displays!
(One of the plushies (the odd one out) is a Squishmallow named Jakarria, and I have her, too.)
Once I got inside the actual building, I was instructed to pick a Ping Pong ball out of a box. If the ball had a number on it, you won a prize! There was a one hundred dollar gift card to the shop, several Oh! Boba cups, a bunch of super cute glass strawberry cups, as well as some adorable boba pins. I got a pin, but the little girl in front of me managed to get the one hundred dollar gift card! She was so excited.
I ordered a tiger milk tea with tapioca pearl boba, and my friend got strawberry milk tea with blueberry popping boba.
For their opening weekend they were having a special flavor, birthday cake, which I was going to try but decided against at the last minute. They said they will be bringing it back next year for their anniversary, though, so maybe I’ll try it then.
Besides the tea, I also got their Biscoff Crunch bubble waffle!
It comes with Biscoff cookies, whipped cream, sprinkles, and Biscoff crumbles. It was so tasty! Kind of complicated to eat, though. Especially because it overflows out of the cup. But it was yummy, so it’s okay.
The milk tea and the waffle were both six dollars each. If you’re not a big fan of milk tea or waffles but still want to check the place out, they have sparkling drinks, too! I tried out their After the Rain one, which was blue curacao flavor. It was so refreshing!
They even have some sugar free options.
All in all, this place totally rocks, and I will definitely be frequenting it. I highly recommend checking it out if you’re in the area. They’re open everyday of the week from 11am to 8pm, which is super convenient. I’m really happy this place exists, and I can’t wait to continue supporting it.
Do you like milk tea? Would you try a bubble waffle? Let me know in the comments, and have a great day!
The technology in question: A small drone, which Krissy’s work has given her so that she can cut down on the number of roofs she has to climb on in her role as a claims adjuster. She need to get some practice with it, but it’s an overly blustery day, so she decided to fire it up inside the house. Smudge was, shall we say, less than thrilled about the buzzy, beepy thing that had invaded his home during his naptime. Fortunately the interruption was brief and Smudge was able to return to his Very Important Nap. Life at the Scalzi Compound: Never boring, even when nap-filled.
Did you know (and its attendant corollary, do you care) that you can take the AI Drummer tracks in Logic Pro X, transmute them into common MIDI, put entirely different sounds on them, and then load them up with effects and filters until they’re entirely unrecognizable? Which, uhhhh, is what I did here, for a track that would not entirely be out of place at a club, although whether an actual DJ would play it is another matter entirely. Once again, I don’t claim to be a good musician, just one who is keeping himself amused as he learns new things about his music software. Also, I named this track “Bleep Bleep” because it leans rather heavily into bleepery. If you listen to it, you’ll know what I mean.
Incidentally, you should know it’s perfectly fine if my bleepage (and other musical stylings) interests you not at all. It’s amateur stuff! It’s not gonna be classic. And if nothing else you’ll be in good company; my Spotify artist stats tell me that in seven years of having music up on the service (the new music from this summer plus my Music For Headphones album, which I put on the service in 2015) my stuff has garnered a grand total of about 4500 streams. Which, fair! This is not even a side gig; it’s the hobbiest of hobbies. I’m having fun with it, but that’s not the same as saying what I’m making is going to grab anyone other than me.
It’s fine if it doesn’t; for this, I’m my own best audience, and when I listen to the stuff I’m making, I’m mostly hearing all the things I need to improve upon. All of this is practice. For what? Making slightly better composed and produced music in the future, I suppose. Which will still probably not be listened to by anyone but me and a few other folks, Which, again: totally fine. Love your hobbies, even if you’re not good at them. Being good at them isn’t necessarily the goal. Being engaged with them and getting joy from them is.
(Also, that art is what came out of Midjourney after I put in the prompt “John Scalzi with a French hat and baguette.” It’s not a particularly good likeness, either of me or of a baguette. AI art still has some work to do.)
I made cookies! And if you couldn’t guess from the title, they were oatmeal cookies. With chocolate chips. And espresso powder. And other stuff, but for some reason only those ingredients are included in the title.
Anyways, as I’ve mentioned before, Half Baked Harvest is one of my favorite food bloggers, so I was excited to try this cookie recipe, despite not being a huge fan of oatmeal cookies.
I actually had all the ingredients for these cookies on hand:
So my first mistake can be found in this ingredients photo. There’s maple syrup in the photo, but there is no maple syrup in the cookies. There is maple syrup in the optional vanilla glaze you can make to go with the cookies, but I forgot to make the glaze entirely so at no point did I use the maple syrup pictured here. So just pretend like it’s not there, okay? Great.
Moving on, the first thing I did was brown the butter. One thing I love about Half Baked Harvest’s recipes is that she always calls for browned butter. If you aren’t familiar, brown butter is just where you take regular butter and heat it up in a skillet to the point that the milk solids begin to brown.
As you can see here, once you melt the butter, the milk solids separate from the liquid. The white stuff is the part that browns. Eventually, you’ll end up with what I like to call liquid gold:
Here’s what it looks like right off the stove!
And here’s all the solid, browned goodness that makes browned butter so damn good:
So what’s the point of browning butter? Is it really necessary? Not really, you definitely don’t have to go through the extra effort, but it adds so much more depth and rich flavor to whatever you’re baking! I promise you can really taste the difference. The best butter brand I’ve found for browning is Kerrygold. It browns unlike any other butter. I highly recommend using that brand if you know you’re going to be browning butter for a recipe!
Anyways, I put all the browned butter in a mixing bowl, and added the brown sugar, eggs, vanilla extract, and espresso powder. One thing I found interesting about this recipe was how much espresso powder is in it. Every time I’ve seen espresso powder in a recipe, it’s usually only about a teaspoon, and usually it’s listed as optional. This recipe, however, called for 2-4 tablespoons of the stuff. The amount between 2 and 4 tablespoons feels like a lot to me, so I went with 3 just to keep it in the middle.
It made my batter DARK:
I thought surely the flour, oats, and baking soda would lighten it up, and it did a little:
For the final step, I added one 4oz bar of semi-sweet chocolate, and half a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips, both Ghirardelli brand.
Honestly, this dough was super easy and quick to throw together. It took longer to brown the butter than it did to measure out the ingredients and mix the dough together. There was nothing too difficult about this dough, no chilling, no whipping eggs for long periods of time. It was all in one bowl, and all super standard ingredients, and no stand mixer or even hand mixer required!
This dough is actually pretty wet for a cookie dough, so I wouldn’t recommend working with it with your bare hands. I used a cookie dough scooper and just scooped out some onto a baking sheet. (The recipe says to use parchment paper on my baking sheets, but I always use parchment paper anyways because my baking sheets are busty crusty dusty musty rusty.)
At this point in time, they looked a lot like no-bake cookies to me.
I threw them in the oven for eight minutes, rotated them, and let them go for another three minutes. And this is what I ended up with:
Just kidding! That’s what they’re supposed to look like (photo from Half Baked Harvest). This is what mine actually looked like:
Not quite twins, are they? And if they are twins, mine look like the evil twin the parents hide in the attic, like that Simpsons episode of Treehouse of Horror.
I’m not sure what went wrong here, so I looked to the comments on her recipe. Apparently tons of people had the same problem, and complained about them coming out way darker than hers. If I had to guess, I’d say the wild amount of espresso powder was the culprit. I was willing to bet it that the tablespoon measurement was actually a typo, but saw no mention of it being a typo from her in the comments, so maybe it isn’t. They are espresso cookies, after all.
Ugly or not, I still tried to get a glamour shot or two of them:
Enough about the looks, how about the taste?! Well, they’re pretty decent. I mean, they have chocolate in them so they can’t really be bad, but they’re not super stellar either. Though I am biased because of the oats, so if you actually like oatmeal cookies you’d probably enjoy these. Not the worst thing I’ve ever made, at the very least. I ended up with 24 of these bad boys, so if you want to make this, but don’t want so many to come from it, I’d recommend halving the recipe.
Do you like oatmeal cookies? Do you often brown your butter for baked goods? Would you give these cookies a try? Let me know in the comments and have a great day!
(Also, someone asked me in my last post what the M in AMS stands for. I think this is the second time I’ve been asked, actually! It’s Marie.)
Always have a backup plan. And if that doesn’t work, have another back up plan… and another after that. Let’s just say Plan A didn’t work out for the characters in William C. Tracy’s new novel, Of Mycelium and Men. Follow along in his Big Idea as he tells you of their Plan B, and Plan C.
WILLIAM C. TRACY:
The generational fleet planned to make landfall after eighty years, but eleven planets and four centuries later, they still had not found a home. Finally, they landed on Lida, but something already lives there, and it’s big.
Agetha and her husband have spent their whole lives in the fleet’s zero-G. Now all is turmoil as the fleet lands, discovering they are surrounded by a single fungal biomass spanning the entire planet. To build a new home, the fleet must confront a dangerous organism, and Agetha must decide if she can raise a family in this inhospitable landscape.
Jane Brighton holds tenuous command over the colony and its administrators. She and the other gene-modded leaders emerged from their four-hundred-year suspended animation to find a crew much different from the one that departed Old Earth. Jane must direct the colony’s fragile growth and defend it against being overrun by the fast-growing biomass.
But there is something none of the colonists know. The massive organism that spans the planet is not simply a fungal mass, nor even a chimerical combination of species that once roamed the planet. The biomass has desires and goals, and one is to know these strange beings carving out a home in its midst.
Dealing with age and cryosleep, or “Get off my starship!”
I’ve had parts of this book (and parts of what will be the second and third books) tumbling around in my brain for probably ten years, but I didn’t have a chance to write it until now. One of the biggest questions I wanted to dive into was how to deal with people who remembered Earth and helped set up a new colony, as opposed to the people on a generational ship whose families had lived through the intervening time—changing and growing.
To make things more conflict laden, I also decided to impose a fairly strict hierarchy, assigning those in cryosleep as a sort of temporal autocracy, arising from rests of hundreds of years to make proclamations for the masses. This would make them into legendary figures for the generational descendants of the original crew.
To crank it up another notch, the fleet found their original target was a lump of slag (oops), the second had no atmosphere (oh well), the third and fourth were no good, and so on until the fleet had traveled about five times as far as they were supposed to. By this time, the Admins are nearly myths, having been sleeping for most of the journey.
Oh yes, and did I mention that the Admins and their supersoldiers have been gene-modded to live for three or four hundred years—while awake? In contrast, the ones who lived through the journey were not modified, and only live about as long as we do.
Everything changes once they find a planet. Now the Admins are awake and guiding the fleet once more, and those who had been acting as stewards find themselves…displaced. At the same time, the colony is under extreme threat. The planet they finally land on turns out to be entirely covered by one rather aggressive fungal biomass, which expresses itself through fungus, plant, and animal-type entities. Tension builds in the colony between the Admins, and those who had directed the fleet and made decisions while traveling. Though they’ve devoted their lives to making sure over twenty thousand people keep living, breathing, reproducing, and growing in knowledge, they are now treated as second-class citizens.
The colony is planned to take ten years to build, but the biomass throws a wrench into that plan as well. The generational crew will literally spend their lives creating the first colony and battling the biomass, and only their children will really be able to enjoy it. Meanwhile, the Admins will live to (hopefully) see the spread of the colony to other cities.
I’ve always been fond of writing about gray moral areas. In this case, people must pull together to complete the colony, or they will be overrun by the biomass. The ones who say they are best able to plan for the future colony (supposedly) are the Admins, who will live to see it come to fruition. Other viewpoints might be useful, but everyone is so busy surviving there’s not a lot of time to foment rebellion against these autocrats. The original fleet crew is far larger in number than Admin or their supersoldiers, but that also means they’re the only ones able to build the colony in time. So, what’s the right answer here? Autocratic rule with the fleet treated as stepping-stones for their children? Risk the safety of everyone in order to replace those at the top with better candidates?
My usual answer when writing through conundrums like this is, “it’s complicated.” I have viewpoints in the book from several of the fleet crew, one supersoldier, and one of the Admins to try to understand the whole picture as it builds. But there’s another very important viewpoint I’ve included: that of the biomass. As a final piece of complexity, the biomass is sentient, but in a very different way than you or I. In fact, so different that no one in the colony makes that connection (in this book). Some of the external pressures on the colonists are misinterpreted until it’s a bit too late to do anything about it. As I said, this will be a trilogy eventually, with the second book coming out early next year, and the third one later on in 2023. This last conflict will become a much bigger player in the next books, but I wanted to lay the seeds of it here, in hopes to provide you with an enjoyable, crunchy, character-driven tale.
I hope you like it!
Of Mycelium And Men: Amazon
Yes, I know, I’m on a bit of a tear with the music this week. My excuse for it this time is that I got a new virtual synth (this one) and I wanted to see what I could do with it. All the sounds in this composition are from this particular synth (including the drums), and the composition is actually really simple: The same four chord sequence with different voicings (and one MIDI drum beat). Not complicated but I think it sounds interesting. Enjoy.
I’ve had a couple of folks I don’t know well (or at all) recently ask me if I could give them advice about getting over writer’s block. The answer is “probably not,” and here’s why:
1. I have no idea what the root of your block is, and also, the chances are reasonably good that you may not understand it either, even if you think you do (people are like that). I am not a trained therapist who can dig around in your brain to figure this stuff out, and you’re not paying me to do that anyway;
2. Even if I did have an idea of the cause of your blockage, since (again) I don’t actually know you, I have no idea of how well you take advice, even if you are asking for it, or whether once you are offered advice if your next step will be to try to execute on it, or to offer another reason why that advice won’t work for you;
3. I rarely experience writer’s block myself to any significant degree. I’ve had stretches where the writing is difficult, but that’s usually to do with me hacking my way through the thicket of story; I’m writing, just not particularly linearly. Recently I’ve had to deal with the sequelae of COVID turning my brain’s plotting engine into goo, but again, it’s not that I’m not writing. It’s that I’m rewriting more right now than I usually do. So, not blockage, just a lot of meandering. Without a huge amount of personal experience with writer’s block, I can’t really give advice that is too useful on how to get through it.
These days, most of the advice I give about writing is really quite simple: Put your ass in a chair and write on as regular a schedule as you can to let your brain develop “muscle memory.” That should help you power through episodes of mental resistance, whether that’s a writing block, or lack of direction, or deficit of inspiration or whatever. I give this particular advice because a) it works for me, b) I have to remind myself of it all the fucking time, because I am so easily distractible, especially these days.
Whether that is useful for your own particular blockage, is, of course, a matter for you to decide. I could offer other tips and tricks (“Write in a different place!” “Do writing sprints!” “Eat more leafy greens!”) but generally speaking I don’t do any of those things, so I can’t speak to their efficacy (I mean, I do try to eat more leafy greens, but not specifically to get over a writing block). As I get older I’ve learned that offering definitive advice without regard to the actual person involved is often the opposite of useful. This is why, these days, I’m far more likely to say “this is been what’s worked for me” rather more than “this is what you should do” when people come advice-seeking. Not always — I can still be garrulous and fatuous and certain in my opinions when the mood strikes — but more often now than when I was younger.
So: ass in chair, write as regularly as you can, and build up that “muscle memory,” which again is good writing advice generally. If that doesn’t work, then… well, actually, a bit of therapy/and or medical diagnosis (if you can swing it, sorry Americans that our health care sucks so badly) probably isn’t a bad idea, because maybe there’s more there going on that may not be specifically about writing but affects your writing too, and I’m a big believer in improving one’s mental health in general.
But that’s kind of where I beg off giving further writing block advice to strangers. I don’t know you, sorry, and I can’t know everyone, especially when I’m on a book deadline. But I wish you luck, and an end to your block, and happy writing afterward.
It can be hard to find the right words to express yourself. For author and linguist R. B. Lemberg, it might help that they have several languages to choose from. Come along in their Big Idea as they tell you about how language can be ever-changing, adaptable, or even restricting, and how this plays into their newest novel, The Unbalancing.
R. B. LEMBERG:
Lately, I’ve seen many calls to abolish pronouns. Today, for example, I saw a tweet that read, “No one has pronouns. You are either he or she.” (he and she are pronouns; so are things like this and that). As a linguist, I am always amazed at certain people’s eagerness to cancel whole parts of speech in order to further certain political agendas. As a linguist, I am also always interested in this idea — what happens if we do start canceling parts of speech? This has been a topic of my recent viral Twitter thread, and also a theme in a new Birdverse novella on submission.
As a linguist, I can also say that gender expressions in languages around the world are diverse and varied. Some languages do not express gender at all, and/or do not express gender through pronouns, or not just through pronouns. Hungarian, a language with no grammatical gender, is spoken in Hungary, a country with restrictive anti-LGBTQIA+ policies. Hungary is also home to many queer and trans people.
Having the means of expression beyond the binary does not result in more rights.
Conversely, canceling parts of speech does not undo the existence of people.
I am a person whose first language(s) did not include nonbinary options when I was growing up. As a member of the last Soviet generation, I grew up with no LGBTQIA+ representation outside of slurs. It did not make me straight or cis, although it did make me closeted way too long; I’m glad all that is behind me. The lack of language and representation did not undo my existence. It did hurt me, and people like me. My closeted silence did nothing good in the world. My voice, I hope, goes farther.
As a queer and nonbinary migrant – and as a linguist – I am astounded every day by the power of language to change, to adapt, to create and maintain community. Linguistic history of the world is a history of change, diversity, and variation. Language changes because it is spoken by people who want to express things which are important for them to express. When language stops changing, it is no longer alive.
The Unbalancing is the first novel in my long-standing Birdverse fantasy world. Since the very first Birdverse story in Beneath Ceaseless Skies back in 2011, Birdverse has been a place which centered queer and trans people. LGBTQIA+ people in Birdverse do not always have it easy. Some countries and cultures are more accepting and welcoming than others, and people who travel or migrate between different places might be shocked by the differences in language and culture that make space for people like them – or take it away.
In The Unbalancing, I wanted to imagine queer utopia. The archipelago is a place of refuge for people who do not fit in their home countries. The society of the islands is welcoming and carefree, celebrating the many expressions of gender and sexuality. One of the key features of archipelago culture is its recognition of women, men, and ichidar. Ichidi (plural ichidar) is a word which roughly corresponds to our nonbinary gender. But nonbinary gender is not monolithic – neither in our world, nor in Birdverse. The islanders recognize “the five ichidi variations”, which are represented by words and animal symbols accompanied by lyrical sayings for each variation.
One of the powerful elders in The Unbalancing, the shipwright Dorod, is rugár, an ichidi variation symbolized by the bear. The saying of rugár is “I am both bears,” corresponding roughly to the bigender identity in our world. Some of the variations in this world have no clear our-world equivalents, others do. As a nonbinary author, I revel in this worldbuilding. Our literature is the literature of imagination. SFF as a field has long embraced social worldbuilding of all kinds. I am here for this, and I hope my readers will be too.
Imagining the archipelago where The Unbalancing is set has been bittersweet for me, since I have long set up through other stories and poems that this utopia does not survive in its original form. But the islander culture survives, and this survival continues to shape Birdverse and my writing. The Unbalancing is, in many ways, a book about failure, about the triumphs and faultlines of community. It is a love letter to people looking for worlds and words that fit. We yearn for language to include us because we yearn for our truths, and for belonging.
In a scene in the book, Erígra Lilún, the protagonist, tells their lover about a conversation they had earlier with the shipwright Dorod. “Dorod told me this before we began — that our culture must survive… Who we are is important, is precious, is rare. Each one of us is the whole of our people, carrying all our love and our failures and our histories in our bones, and unless we all perish, nobody and nothing can take that away.”
It is my truth, and I hold on to it. Language exists because people do. Gender-variant people have always existed. In the current political climate, it’s easy to feel besieged or hopeless – but even if every part of speech is cancelled, we will continue to be born.
I hope that you will give The Unbalancing a try. All are welcome on the archipelago.
I believe I mentioned just recently that Webb, my high school, is the sort of place that takes its annual reunion celebration seriously, and one of the things it does during the reunion weekend is to offer up three alumni awards, for Outstanding Achievement, for Distinguished Services, and to note a rising star amongst the younger alumni. This year is my 35th high school reunion, so I am definitely not a young alumnus, nor have I been so useful as to have been recognized for distinguished service. I have, however, been made the recipient of the 2022 Alumni Outstanding Achievement Award, on the basis of my career as a writer and author. I am delighted and honored and honestly a little dazed that I was thought of for this.
There is some small irony in receiving this award because just before I was informed that I would be honored with it, I had informed friends that I probably wouldn’t be coming to reunion this year, on account that I was behind on finishing Starter Villain, and rather than traveling to California I would hide in my office and grind it out. Then the folks at Webb went “surprise!” and I was all, “Ugh FINE OKAY I will come to reunion I hope you’re happy.” Secretly, however, I am pleased that they roped me into coming, as I really did want to see friends. Don’t tell my editor I am going, I told him I was staying home. It’ll be our little secret.
(Be assured that if I haven’t finished the novel before I travel, that I will be writing on the plane, and in the hotel room, and, probably, backstage just before walking up to get the award. Deadlines are real, y’all.)
It’s my understanding that, while other recipients of this award have written books among the other things they have done, I am the first to get the award for a career as a writer and author. If this is accurate, I think that’s pretty cool (if it’s not accurate, it’s still cool, mind you). Webb is where I decided I wanted to be a writer. To have the school honor me for it feels like coming full circle in a way that’s difficult to fully express. Again: I am delighted. And also — uncharacteristically for me, I know — humbled. Webb friends, I will see you at reunion soon.
The former president of Harvard has written an elegy for cursive writing in The Atlantic, noting that Kids These Days weren’t taught it (it slipped off national curriculum standards in the 2010s), don’t read it easily if at all, and wonders what this means for their ability to access the past, as many documents are handwritten, and many of those are in cursive. Future generations will see cursive as a curiosity at best and an almost foreign language at most.
Which, eh. I’m not too worried about it. For the people who want to know it, it’s not actually that difficult to pick up; they taught it to second graders, after all, a group of humans not well-known either for their intellectual prowess or their magnificent hand-eye coordination. That plus the fact that computers are pretty good these days at recognizing handwriting of various levels of atrocious, and turning it into readable type, suggests to me that the past will not be all that impenetrable to future scholars, and others who have interest in history. Scholarship should survive just fine.
Anyway, the writing was on the wall (so to speak) for cursive a long time ago. I’m 53, was taught cursive in school, and have not used the skill for anything useful or important in literally decades. I started seriously writing right around the time first Macintoshes came into existence, so my entire creative/professional writing career, and mental discipline for writing, is centered on the computer as my writing tool. At no point, save for an occasional poem or song lyric, have I written creatively by hand. On the occasions that I do write by hand, for example when I’m signing books, it’s in standard, not cursive, script, consistent with my preference since I was a kid, and marginally more legibly for me and others in any event. Once I was not ordered to write in cursive (coinciding with the end of my elementary schooling), I didn’t, and anyone who gets handwritten notes from me should be grateful.
(Which is not to say that I didn’t occasionally hand write things; in high school I developed my own personal script that I would use to make notes or comments. People who see it now suggest it looks vaguely like Tolkien script, which I suppose it does, but it wasn’t intentional, since it predates me ever seeing the Tolkien script. I’m pretty sure since I’ve been fourteen I’ve written more things in my secret script than in cursive.)
I do know people who write in cursive for fun — friend and fellow writer Mary Robinette Kowal loves to send handwritten notes to people, and I can attest these notes are delightful to receive — but I suspect most people from Gen X downward conduct the majority of their written communication electronically, or at the very least, typed. I don’t personally notice a lessening of personal feeling or intimacy because these are the formats current generations prefer. They will indeed present a challenge for future archivists, in the sense that electronic media are ephemeral and bit rot is a real thing; I’d guess that will be an equal or greater task for these archivists than reading cursive.
So, yeah. I won’t be lamenting too much the end of cursive as a living script. It was never really a part of my life outside of elementary school and was of limited utility even then. I’ll stick to keyboards and computers, and limit handwriting to signing books and the occasional check (speaking of things becoming rapidly obsolete). This has worked for me so far. I suspect it will continue to.
Sometimes, combining your favorite things can result in something even better than the individual things you put together. Like pineapple on pizza, or peanut butter on pickles. Or in author Jennifer Estep’s case, genres. Come along in the Big Idea for her newest novel, Only Bad Options, to see which genres she chose to perfectly pair together.
I’ve always loved stories with a little bit of everything in them – action, adventure, danger, magic, and romance. As an author, one of the things I enjoy most is taking my favorite elements from one genre and mixing them with my favorite elements from another genre to put my own spin on things.
I consider this process my own monster mashup of genres. A little bit of this, a little bit of that, and then I shock it – write it – to life and see how the story, characters, and worldbuilding hold up. insert evil mad scientist laugh here
In Only Bad Options, my monster mashup of genres is science fiction, urban fantasy, and historical romance. Why these three genres?
I had been thinking about writing an enemies-to-lovers, soul-mates type of story for a while, but none of the urban or epic fantasy worlds I was contemplating seemed quite right. Then I thought, “What if I made it a sci-fi world, but with magic?” And that was my first light-bulb genre moment.
Suddenly, a whole new world (ha!) opened up. I had never written a sci-fi book before, and it was like being handed a brand-new set of toys I had never played with as an author. It was a little overwhelming, so I thought about my favorite things about the sci-fi genre – planets with different climates/creatures, characters being stuck on spaceships together, and epic battles with freaking laser beams. So that’s why there is a boiling lava planet of doom, forced proximity, and pew! pew! pew! action scenes in Only Bad Options.
But I still wanted my characters to have magical abilities and weapons, which are some of my favorite elements of the fantasy genre, so I decided to write about psions – people with mental abilities like telepathy and telekinesis that would fit in with my sci-fi world.
Vesper Quill, my heroine, is a seer who has a photographic memory and can see how things works and how to fix them, something that comes in handy in her job as a lab rat (think engineer/inventor) at a powerful corporation. Meanwhile, Kyrion Caldaren, my hero, is a psion who is capable of telekinesis and more that he uses to dispatch his enemies.
But something was still missing, and I needed one more genre electrode to really bring my book to life. When I get stuck like that, I often think about the theme of my book or how I would pitch it someone. For example, I often describe my Section 47 series as “spies with magic” and my Elemental Assassin series as “an assassin who runs a barbecue restaurant.”
So I started thinking about what other genre I could add to Only Bad Options. And I thought “What if you had all this technology and magic, but the society was sort of old-fashioned and focused on marriages, alliances, and bloodlines, like in a historical romance book?”
I literally sat bolt upright on the couch, like “Yes! That could work!” And that was my other genre light-bulb moment. Suddenly, I had the perfect pitch for Only Bad Options – “space opera meets Pride and Prejudice.”
I also thought about what I love about the historical romance genre. The answer? Snarky banter between the characters. And since Only Bad Options features an enemies-to-lovers plot, snarky banter made perfect sense. That dash of historical romance also helped me hone my characters – Vesper, the smart, sarcastic inventor who is determined to expose corporate corruption, and Kyrion, the broody, uptight, Mr. Darcy-type space assassin. And thus my monster mashup of genres was complete.
From the outside, Only Bad Options might seem like a weird mix of genres, but to me, it’s all the elements I love about three different genres rolled into one story. The book features that little bit of everything that appeals to me as both an author and reader, and I hope it will appeal to other folks too. Thank you for reading.
I’ll Be In a Movie At Sunset Time Today, So Here’s Yesterday’s Sunset, Which I Saved Up For a Situation Just Like This
You never know when you’re gonna need a spare sunset, am I right?
Enjoy, and I hope you had a pleasant Monday.
My high school’s reunion weekend is coming up — in exactly a month, as it happens — and it’ll also be the centennial of my school, and Webb is exactly the sort of place where reunions and centennials are a big deal. I was thinking about the school and the people I know from there today, and I felt a little nostalgic; perhaps not entirely coincidentally, then, the piece of music I was putting together today kind of fits that mood. So this one goes out to all my Webb friends. Wherever you are, I hope you’re well and I hope I get to see you soon.
(As ever, this piece will be up on the streaming services in the next few days, but for now, this is the place to hear it.)
Hey, everyone! Welcome back to another installment of me eating snacks. More specifically, the snacks I’m eating are from the Universal Yums September box! This month is South Korea, and here’s the lineup:
Today, I had the pleasure of sharing these snacks with my friend that is visiting from Columbus, so her input will be accounted for, as well.
Oh, before we begin, on all my snack box posts I keep getting the question, “do you eat all the snacks in one sitting?” Yes! This has been true for every snack box I’ve ever had, I try each snack all in one go. I don’t finish everything in one sitting, usually, but I sample everything at one time. A few chips, one piece of the candy, split the smaller cakes in half, that’s usually how it goes. Though, occasionally, I do totally smash a box and eat it all.
Anyways, let’s just get right into it with this Bulgogi Flavored Noodle Snack!
The package and the booklet both made sure to let you know you’re not supposed to boil this ramen block. The instructions said to open the package very slightly, pull out the seasoning packet, smash the block of noodles, pour the seasoning packet in, close it up, and shake it. This was the result:
As you can imagine if you’ve ever tried uncooked ramen, these little bites were super crunchy! My friend and I were pleasantly surprised at how well the seasoning stuck to the noodles. We figured the seasoning would just kind of sift to the bottom, but each bite was super flavorful, some more so than others depending on how much seasoning had stuck to that piece. It was really tasty, and we ate the whole bowl. If you like extra crunchy savory items, these are totally for you. We both gave it an 8/10!
Following the strong, savory start, we switched to these Cinnamon Sugar Churroz:
Another incredibly crunchy snack! And another total banger. These were perfectly sweet, perfectly cinnamon-y, and just a little bit maple-y. Texturally impeccable, super addicting fun bite size, and way tastier than I would’ve ever expected. I would totally buy these again and again. These earned a 9/10 from both of us.
Switching back to savory, we’ve got these Shrimp Chips:
I don’t know that many people that like shrimp chips, but I’m actually a big fan! They always smell terrible, but taste great. These ones were super airy and crispy, definitely a lighter snack. The shrimp flavor punches you in the face, so if you like shrimp, great! If you don’t, you probably wouldn’t be a big fan of these chips because literally the only flavor they convey is SHROMP. They were definitely good, and we finished the bag. I gave them an 8.5/10. My friend is an even bigger fan of shrimp chips than I am, and gave these bad boys a 10/10!
Next up was this Marshmallow Choco Pie:
I tried to break it in half to share with my friend, but the marshmallow made it difficult and I ended up just kind of smushing/breaking it:
Of course, our first thoughts when seeing this is that it’s basically just a Moon Pie. And we were right! And we love Moon Pies! So this ended up being a good snack. It was simple. Yummy chocolate and gooey marshmallow and sweet goodness all around. No complaints here. It was an 8/10 for me, and my friend gave it an 8.5/10.
Fifthly, we have these Mascarpone Filled Shortbread Cookies:
Though there were only nine of these in the box, I could’ve eaten a hundred, they were so good. This snack absolutely smacked. The shortbread was the perfect level of softness, and it kind of tasted almost like a s’more. My friend said they tasted like a Golden Oreo but less processed/chemically. I ended up having a second one of these because it was so damn good. Total 10/10 from me, and a 9/10 from my friend.
I had to try the spicy snack sooner or later, so I decided to go ahead and get it over with. Here is the Spicy Chicken Flavored Corn Puffs:
These were MAD crunchy, y’all. I totally loved the crunch, so the first half second of eating these was great. And then came the HEAT. These bites were spicy, and they weren’t shy about it. There’s no like “heat on the back” of it. It’s all heat. Heat in the front, heat on the back, hot through and through. The worst part about these is that the flavor is actually good, and I am capable of recognizing that through the heat. So while I did like the flavor, and wanted to eat more of them, the heat was too much for me. Of course, I am a baby about spice, and my friend is not, so she totally loved these. I dubbed these a 7/10, while my friend went with a 9/10.
After a palette cleanser, we dove into these Peach Flavored Gummies:
As someone who is both a gummy lover and a peach lover, these were pretty meh. Largely unimpressive, but not bad. There’s better peach candy in the world, but again these were fine. They had a subtle peach flavor, and the texture of the gummy felt more like a gummy vitamin than a candy. Cute presentation, though. It was a 6/10 from both of us.
Next up, we had what I immediately deemed as Pocky, but is actually Cookies and Cream Pepero:
Okay, these were painfully disappointing. The sticks weren’t crunchy, the coating was waxy, and honestly they fell short in both flavor and texture. These were mid. 5/10 from both of us.
Upon opening this package, the cake completely fell apart and spilled everywhere. That’s partially on me, but also the cake was just super duper crumbly.
Okay, so, obviously it’s a huge mess, but as you can see, it’s basically just a Hostess snack cake. It was just like a Ding Dong, but worse. As my friend put it, it was a “Hostess without the mostest”. It was just a sad, disappointing little cake. I gave it a 4/10, and my friend settled on a 3/10.
Finally, we finished with these Sweet and Sour Grape Flavored Chews:
I was afraid that like all “chewy” candy, this piece would be tooth-breakingly hard, but it was actually soft and chewy! So chewy that it was almost gum-like. Normally, I hate grape flavored stuff, but this was pretty decent. It wasn’t overly sweet, and it was actually a little tart. It reminded me of a Starburst. I would like to try other flavors of this candy, because again, grape isn’t a stellar choice for me. I gave it a 6/10, and my friend gave it a 7/10.
Overall, this box was totally awesome! I really enjoyed this one. And it was my friend’s first time ever trying a snack box like this, so I’m glad I could introduce her to my shenanigans of eating foreign snacks. I definitely want to see if I can order some of these snacks in bulk because they were so good. Others, not so much.
Which snack looks the best to you? If you got this box, what was your favorite item? Let me know in the comments, and have a great day!
(Oh. also, I replied to more comments on my last post! Two for two so far! Well, more like two out of the past five hundred, but who’s counting?)
I was looking for something to accompany the salad I was making for dinner, and I stumbled upon Half Baked Harvest’s “Soft Garlic Herb Cheddar Cheese Bread”. Savory bread?! I could definitely do that. I prefer baking over cooking, anyway, so this recipe seemed like the perfect thing to make.
I had to gather some ingredients, though.
I had to buy all three cheeses for this bread, as well as all three herbs. I had the other ingredients on hand. The herb packages were two dollars each. I would’ve just bought regular but they only had organic in stock. As for the cheese, the recipe calls for mozzarella, parmesan, and cheddar, so you can pick whatever brands you like or whatever type of cheddar you want. I went with Kerrygold aged cheddar (which I didn’t know was a thing until now) because I absolutely love their butter, and each block was a little over five dollars.
The parmesan was just something I grabbed because it was grated, I didn’t really care about the brand for that one, and it was also over five dollars. As for the mozzarella, it called for shredded but I don’t like pre-shredded mozzarella (or really any pre-shredded cheese in a bag), but I managed to find whole milk shredded mozzarella, so I picked that. I don’t like when mozzarella is made with skim-milk. Anyways, it was less than four dollars. So it probably cost me about thirty dollars to make this bread.
Also, not pictured in the ingredients is two cloves of garlic, because I forgot that it was in the recipe until it came time to add it.
Moving on, the first thing I did was add the yeast to warm milk with honey, and let it sit for five minutes.
The recipe said it should look bubbly on top, but it didn’t really look super bubbly to me. I went ahead and added the eggs and flour anyway, and got this insanely sticky dough.
It was totally unworkable, it was so sticky. The recipe said if it was too sticky you can add more flour a half cup at a time, so I went ahead and added half a cup.
It was still super sticky! So I dumped in another half cup of flour.
Finally, I got a semi-smooth ball of dough. It was still kind of sticky, but not unworkable, at least. I knew I’d have to flour the heck out of my surface when it came time to roll it out, though.
So, it was time to let it sit for an hour. But it ended up being two hours because I took my grandma dinner. Ah, well, better over than under probably, right?
And rise it did!
The recipe says to punch the dough down, so I did:
And to roll the dough out into a 12 by 18 rectangle, but the dough was so elastic-y and did not want to roll out the way I wanted it to. It was fighting me. So I just did my best and let it be, really. I ended up with like a 14 by 14 square.
For the filling, I shredded the cheddar and mixed all the cheese together, then grated the garlic cloves into the mix. Then I PAINSTAKINGLY tore off thyme, oregano, and sage leaves. Enough to fill a third of a cup. DO YOU KNOW HOW SMALL THYME LEAVES ARE. I absolutely hate making anything that calls for thyme, it is my LEAST FAVORITE ACTIVITY.
(Also I did add a few leaves of basil, but they were from my sad little plant in the windowsill.)
Anyways, after like twenty fucking minutes, I finally threw the herbs into the mix and got this:
So I sprinkled that bitch on the dough:
Now came the hard part. First, I rolled it up into a log. Then, I cut that log in half lengthwise. Weird, I know, but it gets weirder! You have to turn the halves outward, and then twist them over each other again and again until you end up with a long, twisted rope of cheesy bread. And then coil the long twist into a circle! It was messy, to be certain.
And then I popped that bad boy in the oven, and thirty minutes later I had this:
Lord have mercy. That was one hell of a glow-up.
Let me just say, this shit was BANGIN’. Suddenly all the money and effort was worth it. I would, and will, make it again. And probably again. And even again after that because wow. But don’t just take my word for it, my parents said it was super good, too! And we all ate way too much of it in too short an amount of time.
So, yeah, if you are a cheesy bread fan, you need this recipe in your life. If you are having friends over and want to impress them with minimal effort, make this bread. Or if you want to eat an entire loaf of cheesy bread by yourself, live your truth, and make this bread. I really can’t stress enough how tasty this is.
Would you give it a try? What cheese blend would you go for? What would you serve with this bread? Let me know in the comments, and have a great day!
(Also, I replied to some comments on my last post! Make sure you check to see if I replied to you.)
One of the interesting side effects of owning a church building is the volume of unsolicited mail that one gets from companies that specialize in church-and-ministry-oriented businesses; for example, see the above closeup of a postcard sent to us from a company that specializes in insuring ministries. It’s not a surprise that there are church/ministry-oriented businesses, of course; our building contractor is one of those and we went with them specifically because they understood the quirky needs of church buildings. There’s definitely a place for them. But one does not, I think, truly grasp the depth and breadth of the field until one is in possession of a church itself. Insurance is, shall we say, the tip of the iceberg.
That said, we’re unlikely to follow up on this insurer because as it happens, we are not intending a ministry to be housed in our church. We do have insurance on the building, of course, and as we develop our further plans for it, we’ll tweak our coverage to fit our needs. Those need probably won’t coincide with the needs of an actual ministry. I could be wrong, though. Maybe I’ll keep the postcard just in case.
Covering Neil Young, who is also Canadian. This is absolutely one of my favorite things kd lang has recorded, which is saying something, because kd lang has recorded a large number of phenomenal songs. Enjoy.
How much is a woman’s life worth? Not only to others, but to herself? How far would one go to save one’s own sanity?
It’s a question that frequently nips at my heels, for what I suppose must be obvious reasons for anyone who has or is about to read Full Immersion. I wanted to examine the notion in depth. We talk a lot about how hard it is to reach out for help in relation to mental health discourse, and I have had first hand experience of this: of just how difficult it can be to communicate your needs when you are broken.
Also, how hard it is to communicate to yourself that you need help. To identify your own needs. It’s all well and good to say ‘Why didn’t you ask for help? Why didn’t you just reach out?’ But this displays a gross misunderstanding of the very nature of depression, trauma, and other conditions that completely shut down your sense of self and your definition of worth. Particularly when it comes to motherhood, perhaps especially if it’s your first time.
So the big idea behind my novel was one of survival, plain and simple. I should state: I never made a conscious decision to write a novel about post-natal depression. It just fell out of me. I wrote it when I was unemployed, having been made redundant from two jobs in a row, and I was extremely unwell, mentally speaking. Luckily, my son had started school. I developed a routine that rather saved my life: I would drop him off each day and then wander to my favourite cafe, where I would write non-stop until lunchtime. I didn’t know what I was writing, or why.
At this stage in my author career, I had not learned how to finish a novel, only short stories. I had tried, many times. I had a collection of half-written novels spanning back fifteen years. I’d simply never had the time to complete anything before. Now, I did. I wrote and wrote like a woman possessed, and what I wrote was my pain, and my experience, and my thoughts, feelings, hopes, fears…it certainly wasn’t a structured or particularly conscious writing exercise. It was therapy, I suppose. Sit down, order coffee, let the fingers fly until there are words on the page, and then more, and then more, and more still. Eventually, I had a lot of words.
For context, I was suffering with a delayed and profoundly painful type of postnatal depression, or trauma, or quite possibly both. I’d been through a hellish pregnancy, carried an unusually large baby to fourteen days over my due date, and endured a protracted and painful induction that didn’t end in the best of ways. My baby was taken from me moments after birth and whisked off for special care- this brutal (if necessary) separation quite literally broke my brain, and I suffered for years in silence afterwards before I fully understood what was happening to me. So the early genesis of Full Immersion was a simple, straightforward series of diary-entries, an outpouring of experience, incoherent in the large part- just a collection of things I struggled with.
But then, I started thinking about it with a wider lens. The idea of self worth. The idea of a collection of stories, and what those represented. I started to think: what if one could display them in an almost curated fashion? What would that look like, a display of your own hurt? I decided that for me, personally, it would look like a Gallery, like a collection of exhibits.
As I started to improve, healthwise, I began to see what I had written (which was never intended to go beyond my personal files, certainly something I had never written with the intention of being published one day) as something more than a brain-dump of trauma. I started to see that I could do more with it, even if it was initially for my eyes only. So I went back, and I reworked those feelings into a more coherent structure. I introduced the concept of the Gallery that features so heavily in the book. And in that Gallery, there resided a series of objects. Those objects were unique and personal to me. Around them, I wove the sum of my experiences. The novel evolved, but it still wasn’t right. It felt too abstract, too roughly conceptual.
What happened next sealed the book’s fate. I was approached by Angry Robot and asked if I had anything that was novel-length that I could submit. My mind went to the Gallery, to the novel provisionally titled ‘Collection.’ I wondered if I could coax more out of it still. I wondered if I could maybe even present it in a way that other people might find accessible, readable, perhaps even enjoyable.
I started to think beyond the Gallery. In what way could such a place exist in the real world? I realised that in theory, it could be programmed. Video games do this sort of thing all the time. I’m not a huge gamer, but I do love puzzles and games that involve wandering through beautiful, immersive, empty, intriguing environments. Think Myst, Cyan Worlds. I realised I could work with that here.
Concurrently- in part why I was recovering so well- I was also in therapy. I became fascinated by the power of simply sitting in a room with another person and talking, sharing in an unrestrained fashion, without judgement, without repercussions. In many ways this helped me to begin to extrapolate some sense out of the question of self worth. Talking in a safe manner allows you to explore thoughts and feelings you didn’t know you had, not until you hear them said out loud. This idea of actualisation was incredibly empowering and I wanted that to become a central premise in the novel.
As the various iterations of the book began to evolve into something much more fleshy, something living and breathing, I realised that I finally felt, as I tweaked and edited and tweaked some more, as if this novel was becoming exactly what it was supposed to be, much like the person writing it was. Something weird, and illogical, something deeply personal, something that had a growing sense of purpose and conviction and a highly developed sense of truth, that was yet still fictional in many ways- although I would say the balance of truth to fiction in this one is about 70% to 30%.
Anyone who knows me will recognise the real bits, which terrifies me, and is partly why I am so very nervous about this one making its way out into the world. It exposes me, but maybe that is what art and creation should be about, sometimes. And nothing will ever compare to the bare, naked reality of giving birth, so in that respect, I am prepared to be exposed. I had everything stripped away in those moments in a delivery suite, and I think that’s okay. It has prepared me, in many ways, for this new act of giving birth: releasing a book child into the world.
Anyway. How much is a woman’s life worth? That is the big idea behind Full Immersion, which probably has a few other big ideas jostling for attention in there, but the kernel that started it all was the idea of worth. Of value. And how that translated to a life that could be lived and enjoyed and celebrated and appreciated.
As I believe I’ve noted before, it’s kind of cool that most of the major AI art generators have at least a vague idea of who I am and what I look like. On the other hand, they never really portray me in the most flattering of lights — and this time even less so. Heavy Metal Makeup Me just looks tired. I do like how they’ve cropped my hairline. Other variations were not so kind.
Needless to say, I kind of love this image. Also, I think it’s just as well I did not go down the rock and roll path. At the very least, I don’t have to take off makeup every night. I’m lazy. I would probably just sleep in it.
The third time’s the charm! Or the fifth. Or perhaps the twelfth? Or maybe, just maybe, the first time was the charm all along? Follow along in author Max Brallier’s Big Idea as he tells you about his journey to crafting the series he truly wanted to, and its newest installment, The Last Kids On Earth and the Forbidden Fortress.
I never planned to write for kids. I was gonna write the sorta stuff I liked: tough, gritty, apocalyptic fun. Roger Zelazny’s Damnation Alley, The Road Warrior, John Carpenter movies, Antony Johnston and Chris Mitten’s Wasteland.
In 2010, I was working in marketing at St. Martin’s Press. Nights and weekends, I wrote – excitedly starting then frustratedly scrapping dozens of lousy novels.
I started taking editor friends out for happy hour drinks – then begging them for work-for-hire assignments. A children’s editor kindly tossed jobs my way: sticker journals and activity books.
I was shocked to discover I loved writing kids’ stuff. It felt natural. Honest.
I wondered… this tough, gritty, apocalyptic stuff I’d been failing at – could I do that… for kids? I mean, a monster-filled apocalypse was my dream playground when I was 10 years old.
My Big Idea had arrived: a FUNpocalypse! A suburban wasteland overrun with zombies and kaiju-sized monsters – but funny, not-too-heavy, and starring kids. (The quickest way to write a kids’ adventure without needing to deal with meddling, texting parents is to —y’know – kill off those meddling, texting parents.)
Like some mafioso thug, I grabbed my childhood by the pantlegs, held it up, and shook. Out tumbled daydreamed adventures and saving-my-classmates-from-doom fantasies. I milked my adolescence for all it was worth…
My rickety backyard treehouse became a Tree Fortress. My little league bat became a baseball bat blade: the Louisville Slicer. I recalled elementary school years living in George Romero’s hometown of Pittsburgh – and the Dawn of the Dead, mall-madness daydreams that followed.
For the next month, I pretty much lived at my local writing spot – Think Coffee in New York’s East Village. I skipped my usual outlining, ditched character worksheets, and just wrote.
My hero and narrator was foster kid Jack Sullivan – and his voice flowed with ease. Largely because Jack was – along with some Fletch and a bit of Psych’s Shaun Spencer – me. He said the funny things I’d say if I had hours at a laptop to polish my life’s dialogue.
I wrote three chapters of my Big Idea – and it was the best thing I’d ever written. Holy hell, I thought, this was IT! I wanted to call Mastercard and tell them all those late-payment “miscommunications” were a thing of the past, ‘cause my ship was coming in!
I shared those chapters with colleagues whose opinions I valued. Then I kicked back, waiting for praise, waiting to hear, “My god! What brilliance have you created!?”
Zero brilliance, it seemed. Conversations that followed went something like this —
COLLEAGUE WHOSE OPINION I WAS VALUEING LESS AND LESS BY THE SECOND: So these kids — they eventually figure out the world didn’t actually end or something? And fix everything back to the way it was?
MAX: Nope. Think I Am Legend. Think The Road. But goofy and fun!
CWOIWVLALBTS: Okay… And the kids’ parents?
MAX: Missing and presumed undead! Or possibly for real dead. And one kid – he doesn’t care either way ‘cause his dad’s a bum.
CWOIWVLALBTS: That sounds neither goofy nor fun…
One literary agent, who I desperately wanted to represent me, put it best: “This is dystopian. The world is gone, the hero’s parents are gone, and something about the whole world feels dark and serious and, well, pretty sad. It’s not quite working.”
And he wasn’t wrong. The tone didn’t match the world.
Now, every writer I know – and I know at least four – possesses these qualities: 1) they consider themselves principled artists, and 2) they like paying their rent – on time, when possible.
I was newly married. My wife had developed a habit of pointing at random babies and noting how huggable they were. I, in turn, had developed a habit of agreeing that random babies were huggable.
Paying the rent on time suddenly seemed very principled. I had this agent’s attention – now I wanted to deliver something, anything, that he could sell.
But I would not throw the baby out with the bath water – certainly not after my recent realization that babies were huggable.
So, I came up with a fix – my Big Fix. I turned the story into a portal fantasy. The tree house now contained a magic door leading to an alternate dimension, identical, except that the apocalypse had apocalpysed. (I was watching a lot of Fringe back then.)
Jack and his friends would visit this apocalyptic world, battle evil and eat stale junk food, then hurry back through that magic doorway in time for dinner. There were middle school hijinks and embarrassing parents and jokes about cafeteria lunches.
The agent liked my new approach! Penguin Young Readers acquired my proposal!
And… the next 18 months were a joyless slog, full of hair-pulling and eyebrow-plucking — but zero hair-standing-on-end creative fun.
I hated my Big Fix.
I had sold a novel… and I was miserable! I felt like an astronaut finally picked for a space mission – only to blastoff and discover they’re allergic to zero-gravity. Or something else. I’m not great with metaphors.
Worse: The only person I had to blame for this mess was myself – and that’s the person I least like blaming for things.
Everything I write, ever, is saved on my laptop, out of fear that one dumb idea was actually a smart idea and might need to be summoned up a decade later. (Has never happened.) But it has turned my computer into a time-capsule, documenting my manuscript’s timeline…
February 2013: 1st draft
June 2013: 5th draft
January 2014: 12th draft
Things only deteriorate from there. Draft names full of forced optimism and you-can-do-it reassurance: “Manuscript – Now You’re on the Right Track Max!” and “Manuscript – THIS WILL BE THE ONE THAT WORKS.”
Finally, I delivered the book – completed through sheer force of “will today be the day Random House lawyers knock on my door and demand I pay back my advance?”
That night, I didn’t sleep. I was sweaty and nauseous and panicky – even moreso than usual. My wife, Alyse, is a book editor. I gave her a little nudge.
MAX: Wake up. Are you awake? Wake up.
ALYSE: Is it a burglar?
ALYSE: So it’s your book?
I explained – through real tears – how this pickle I’d gotten myself into, much like a real pickle, was not sitting well with me. I had this shot – maybe this one shot – and I blew it. I wanted to write the story that got me excited at the start: a true end of the world adventure — my FUNpocalypse. But I just delivered a book with magic doorways and parents and teachers and a rhyming gnome and holy geez the whole thing had gone off the rails.
Alyse, to paraphrase: “Max, you twit. Call your editor. Be honest. Tell her you want to take a stab at writing the book you really want to write.”
I spewed forth all the reasons I couldn’t do that: “She’ll be mad! She’ll know I’m a fraud! She’ll tell the publisher they never should have bought my book! The publisher will tell my agent he never should have brought me on as a client! Everyone will hate me! I’ll never write anything again!”
“Max… Just call your editor! And after that – maybe call a therapist.”
So I called my editor. And she did understand. Completely.
I promised her a new manuscript – my original Big Idea – in a month.
An enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders – much like someone wearing a concrete scarf might feel when they finally remove it and…. something. Again, not a metaphor guy.
I wrote happy. Those failed drafts were not wasted – they’d allowed me to find the right tone. My trusted colleagues hadn’t been wrong; it was my Big Fix that was wrong.
In May of 2014, my completed Big Idea – now titled The Last Kids on Earth – was sent to illustrator Doug Holgate. He made magic. And then it went out into the world as a book I felt okay about.
I’m tempted, now, to draw parallels between the journey I set my characters on and my writing journey. But that’d all be too neat and buttoned up and not quite honest.
And really, that time spent hopelessly wandering through a wilderness I’ll call “I’m Lucky Enough to Have Sold a Book But Now It Isn’t the Book I Want to Write!” is a miniscule amount of hopeless wandering compared to most author’s paths to publication.
The weird thing? I still get lost. Every book, every time. And it doesn’t require some fear-driven force like paying rent or an editorial note that sends me spiraling. It just happens. I have a Big Idea – and I’m instantly amped up; I see all the bits that will be fun and so good. But then I start writing and everything just gets confused and messy and lost. But I find my way back (usually…), by returning to what first excited me – that Big Idea.