As it turns out, my last blog post showed a little foresight: the artist asked me this week if she could make an adjustment to the image I requested. At first I was resistant, but then I remembered writing that I would be flexible and decided I'd better live up to those words, so I asked her to show me an example. She had a few photos she'd taken to give me an idea of what she was describing. As she explained her thinking behind the slight change, I began to see what she meant. Gradually, I realized that she might be onto something. We agreed that she would tone it down a little but try for that effect ... so I was able to be flexible after all.
The two of us also signed a contract, so it's official now. I think that's a relief for both of us because she can concentrate on the image she's creating and I can concentrate on the novel without worrying about the image. That part's in her hands now.
The words are still my responsibility, though, so I need to keep working on those. I've made a lot of adjustments and changes, but I'm not convinced it's quite ready yet so I'll keep working on it until I'm happy with it.
Stay tuned!
And happy Labor Day!
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Images
It's time to work on the image for the cover of In The Shadows. I met with the artist recently to discuss the image I'm seeking this time, as much as I could describe it. I had a pretty vague idea for Another Shot, but this time I have something a little more specific in mind. On one hand, that's good for the artist because she knows what I want, but on the other hand, it might be a drawback if my internal image is so specific that it's hard for her to match it.
I'm going to try to be flexible. I really like the image that's in my head, but I have to be willing to allow for her creativity and her own vision. I guess it's a lot like anything else you approach for the first time: you might have an idea of how it will go, but you can't ever know for sure. If you can adapt as you see the whole image taking shape, you'll be a lot better off than if you rigidly stick to your original plan. It's also true of life in general: my life now is certainly not how I envisioned it twenty, ten or even five years ago!
Stay tuned for updates.
I'm going to try to be flexible. I really like the image that's in my head, but I have to be willing to allow for her creativity and her own vision. I guess it's a lot like anything else you approach for the first time: you might have an idea of how it will go, but you can't ever know for sure. If you can adapt as you see the whole image taking shape, you'll be a lot better off than if you rigidly stick to your original plan. It's also true of life in general: my life now is certainly not how I envisioned it twenty, ten or even five years ago!
Stay tuned for updates.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Closet Spaceship Part 9
I walked
down the corridor in
search of Nick, who was hiding out in the dining hall. When I peeked through the doorway, I saw him
slouched in a chair, holding a cup of coffee as if it were a pistol pointing in
my direction.
I raised both hands. “May I come in?”
He shrugged.
I walked in and sat across the table from him.
“You could just shoot me,” I said. “Although not with that.”
The coffee cup clanked onto the table.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “To talk to you, I guess.”
“So talk.”
“That’s not what I meant. You want me to go on for a few minutes about writing or something like that? No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” he said. “What do you think I did?”
I smiled. “I mostly said that to get you to stop. But there is something: you—”
“Listen,” he interrupted, “I did exactly what I told the captain. It’s not my fault I got so far away from the landing site. S**t, they act like I really was sightseeing. Reg won’t shut up about it.”
He was referring to an incident in the first novel, when the captain and Hawkins arrived at the ship’s landing site with some angry colonists in pursuit and didn’t find Outsider there as they expected because Nick was busy trying to evade some colony ships that wanted to shoot him down. (If you want more details, read the novel. What else do you expect me to say?)
“I know what you did there, Nick,” I said. “You had two ships on your tail, so you did what you had to do. Nobody faults you for that.”
“So what, then?” he asked.
I chuckled. “Sean told everybody he gave you the slip.”
“So what? He did.”
“Not exactly, did he? I believe your exact words were, ‘Get the hell away from me before I put a few holes in you,’ weren’t they? Oh, and something about a dumb kid.”
Nick looked uncomfortable. “He tell you that?”
“No, dummy,” I said, “I was there, remember? You can deny it all you want, but I heard what you said. He didn’t give you the slip; you sent him away. Not that he minded. He would have gone anyway, so maybe you should have been a little more patient.”
Nick scoffed.
“I know,” I said. “Patient isn’t exactly in your character profile.”
“S**t,” he said.
“Listen, Nick,” I said. “I’m not going to tell anybody. I’m not here to get you or anyone in trouble. I’m not going to run to the captain every time somebody ignores an alarm or does something stupid. He probably already knows anyway. That’s not why I’m here.”
“So why are you here?” he demanded. “Why don’t you just leave us alone?”
“Because I’m a writer,” I said, “and because you won’t leave me alone.”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t get it,” I said. “If you want me to stop coming, get a boring job and be boring yourself. Then we can leave each other alone. Until then, we’re stuck with each other.”
It’s true: I’ve tried a few times to leave the crew behind, but it didn’t work. Someday I might stop writing about them, but they’ll never leave me completely.
“Go on,” I said. “I know there’s a poker game upstairs.”
When Nick left, he was walking, not running, so I suppose that’s progress. We’ll see.
I raised both hands. “May I come in?”
He shrugged.
I walked in and sat across the table from him.
“You could just shoot me,” I said. “Although not with that.”
The coffee cup clanked onto the table.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “To talk to you, I guess.”
“So talk.”
“That’s not what I meant. You want me to go on for a few minutes about writing or something like that? No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” he said. “What do you think I did?”
I smiled. “I mostly said that to get you to stop. But there is something: you—”
“Listen,” he interrupted, “I did exactly what I told the captain. It’s not my fault I got so far away from the landing site. S**t, they act like I really was sightseeing. Reg won’t shut up about it.”
He was referring to an incident in the first novel, when the captain and Hawkins arrived at the ship’s landing site with some angry colonists in pursuit and didn’t find Outsider there as they expected because Nick was busy trying to evade some colony ships that wanted to shoot him down. (If you want more details, read the novel. What else do you expect me to say?)
“I know what you did there, Nick,” I said. “You had two ships on your tail, so you did what you had to do. Nobody faults you for that.”
“So what, then?” he asked.
I chuckled. “Sean told everybody he gave you the slip.”
“So what? He did.”
“Not exactly, did he? I believe your exact words were, ‘Get the hell away from me before I put a few holes in you,’ weren’t they? Oh, and something about a dumb kid.”
Nick looked uncomfortable. “He tell you that?”
“No, dummy,” I said, “I was there, remember? You can deny it all you want, but I heard what you said. He didn’t give you the slip; you sent him away. Not that he minded. He would have gone anyway, so maybe you should have been a little more patient.”
Nick scoffed.
“I know,” I said. “Patient isn’t exactly in your character profile.”
“S**t,” he said.
“Listen, Nick,” I said. “I’m not going to tell anybody. I’m not here to get you or anyone in trouble. I’m not going to run to the captain every time somebody ignores an alarm or does something stupid. He probably already knows anyway. That’s not why I’m here.”
“So why are you here?” he demanded. “Why don’t you just leave us alone?”
“Because I’m a writer,” I said, “and because you won’t leave me alone.”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t get it,” I said. “If you want me to stop coming, get a boring job and be boring yourself. Then we can leave each other alone. Until then, we’re stuck with each other.”
It’s true: I’ve tried a few times to leave the crew behind, but it didn’t work. Someday I might stop writing about them, but they’ll never leave me completely.
“Go on,” I said. “I know there’s a poker game upstairs.”
When Nick left, he was walking, not running, so I suppose that’s progress. We’ll see.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Closet Spaceship Part 8
(Here's another installment of fiction.)
On my next visit to the crew, I took Nick Bartucci completely by surprise. He’s the second-shift pilot and he’d just come off his shift when he almost ran into me in the corridor.
He took a good look at me, as if comparing my face to a mental image, and said,
“Oh, s**t.”
Then he fled.
I didn’t expect that, so I let him get several meters away before I even realized what was happening. Then he got another several meters before it occurred to me what I should do.
“Nick,” I called. “I know what you did!”
He ducked into the dining room but then his footsteps stopped, so I knew I had his attention.
“Do you really want me yelling it down the hallway?” I called.
“Yelling what down the hallway?” asked a voice behind me.
I turned to see Nick’s co-pilot and navigator, Randall and Elliott, standing a short distance away. Both were staring at me as if I had two heads. I guess I’d do the same thing if my captain had told me some strange woman was going to appear out of nowhere every once in a while … and then she really did.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just trying to talk to him.”
Let me tell you a little about Nick: he’s a fine pilot and his heart is in the right place, but he gets irritated easily and can be about the most stubborn person you’ve ever met if he’s pushed. I knew that telling his two crewmates anything that they could tease him about later was a sure way to keep him from ever speaking to me.
Randall and Elliott looked at each other. I suspect they were thinking that if I was busy talking to Nick, I wouldn’t have time to bother them, so it was in their best interest to let me continue.
“Okay,” Elliott said. “Good luck.”
Then they hurried down the corridor in the direction of the crew’s quarters. When they passed the dining room, Nick whispered something to them, but both pretended not to hear him and ran up the stairs. Both were sure to hear about it the next time they were in the cockpit, but I guess they thought that was still better than dealing with me.
Thanks a lot, guys.
I’m sure Nick was thinking along the same lines, although he probably threw in a few choice words.
On my next visit to the crew, I took Nick Bartucci completely by surprise. He’s the second-shift pilot and he’d just come off his shift when he almost ran into me in the corridor.
He took a good look at me, as if comparing my face to a mental image, and said,
“Oh, s**t.”
Then he fled.
I didn’t expect that, so I let him get several meters away before I even realized what was happening. Then he got another several meters before it occurred to me what I should do.
“Nick,” I called. “I know what you did!”
He ducked into the dining room but then his footsteps stopped, so I knew I had his attention.
“Do you really want me yelling it down the hallway?” I called.
“Yelling what down the hallway?” asked a voice behind me.
I turned to see Nick’s co-pilot and navigator, Randall and Elliott, standing a short distance away. Both were staring at me as if I had two heads. I guess I’d do the same thing if my captain had told me some strange woman was going to appear out of nowhere every once in a while … and then she really did.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just trying to talk to him.”
Let me tell you a little about Nick: he’s a fine pilot and his heart is in the right place, but he gets irritated easily and can be about the most stubborn person you’ve ever met if he’s pushed. I knew that telling his two crewmates anything that they could tease him about later was a sure way to keep him from ever speaking to me.
Randall and Elliott looked at each other. I suspect they were thinking that if I was busy talking to Nick, I wouldn’t have time to bother them, so it was in their best interest to let me continue.
“Okay,” Elliott said. “Good luck.”
Then they hurried down the corridor in the direction of the crew’s quarters. When they passed the dining room, Nick whispered something to them, but both pretended not to hear him and ran up the stairs. Both were sure to hear about it the next time they were in the cockpit, but I guess they thought that was still better than dealing with me.
Thanks a lot, guys.
I’m sure Nick was thinking along the same lines, although he probably threw in a few choice words.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Taking Flight
My name has already traveled to Mars, which I think is pretty amazing, and now I'm sending it to an asteroid. Thanks to NASA and The Planetary Society, my name will travel to asteroid Bennu, spend 500 days there and then return to Earth. However, my name will also stay in space with the spacecraft that went to the asteroid.
Something about having my name in space is very satisfying. It's not that my name can send me any photos or texts to tell me what it's seeing. It's not that I might get the best postcard ever. It's more a feeling of joining the push to get Out There, the quest to understand what's beyond our planet, our solar system, our galaxy. I've put my stamp of approval on the quest, telling anyone or anything that happens upon the spacecraft in some distant future that I want to see farther. My home planet has a lot going for it, but I want to know what else there is. Since NASA hasn't yet come knocking at my door with an invitation to travel out there myself, I send my name instead.
After the launch in 2016, I can close my eyes and imagine I'm out there with my name, soaring through the darkness toward a new perspective.
If you'd like your name to join mine, here is where you can sign up:
http://www.planetary.org/get-involved/messages/bennu/ If you don't want emails from The Planetary Society, be sure to uncheck the box. When I signed up, I got a cool certificate that I can save and print.
Let's go exploring!
Something about having my name in space is very satisfying. It's not that my name can send me any photos or texts to tell me what it's seeing. It's not that I might get the best postcard ever. It's more a feeling of joining the push to get Out There, the quest to understand what's beyond our planet, our solar system, our galaxy. I've put my stamp of approval on the quest, telling anyone or anything that happens upon the spacecraft in some distant future that I want to see farther. My home planet has a lot going for it, but I want to know what else there is. Since NASA hasn't yet come knocking at my door with an invitation to travel out there myself, I send my name instead.
After the launch in 2016, I can close my eyes and imagine I'm out there with my name, soaring through the darkness toward a new perspective.
If you'd like your name to join mine, here is where you can sign up:
http://www.planetary.org/get-involved/messages/bennu/ If you don't want emails from The Planetary Society, be sure to uncheck the box. When I signed up, I got a cool certificate that I can save and print.
Let's go exploring!
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