To Be Continued

There were a few dried leaves in the open doorway. My footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as I entered. Most of the tables were gone. There were a few lonely books on the remaining bookshelves. It was the last day that Spellbound bookstore was open.

I shook Brett's hand and took back the copies of my novels. He told me he doesn't know what he'll do next, but he acknowledged with a smile that there are a lot of opportunities. I wished him well.

Then he said something that sort of surprised me: he wanted me to let him know when my next novel comes out.

It surprised me for a few reasons. First of all, I was touched that even in his situation, he wasn't thinking only of himself, but was reaching out to someone else.

Second, it reminded me that I have another novel to work on. That might sound silly: how could I forget that I have this novel to finish? Well, this has been kind of a tough year for me, and several factors combined to give me a pretty tenacious case of writer's block. The novel kind of slipped out of the Top Ten things I was considering ... until Brett reminded me.

As I walked to my car, I made myself stop and consider the plastic bag in my hands. It held four novels and they were all written by me! When I was younger, the mere thought of that would have made me do a silly little dance of joy. And those books made me realize that I want to create another one. It's been sitting on my computer and needs me to finish it.

So I want to thank Brett one more time. His dream hasn't ended: he's just going to move on to the next one. His attitude about that has been positive and hopeful, not angry or disappointed, which is a lot better than I would have reacted. And he's inspired me to keep up with my own dream. I have actually written seven whole sentences today and I'm going to keep going!

I think we'll both be okay.

I wish you all the best in 2017.

Winter Show

I’m not fond of several aspects of winter: the cold, the long nights, the relative lack of wildlife and birds.

But these past few weeks, I’ve discovered something, a bonus that makes me a little more tolerant of the lengthening night (and the end of Daylight Saving Time).

When I step outside after a day of work, I’m facing west and I’m confronted by a sunset. The nearby buildings and trees aren’t tall enough to block it. I can’t bury my face in a book or hide inside four walls because I have to walk to my car if I want to get home.

In other words, I can’t miss it.

So I stop. I stare. I marvel.

The sun has usually just gone away, leaving a bright flare of yellow, orange and peach. Above my head are the clouds, which come in all shapes and, more importantly, colors. They’re white, gray, light blue, purple, yellow. They’re edged with orange, pink, purple and dark blue as the sunlight reaches out before slipping over the horizon. If I’m lucky, the display is accented by the sliver of a pale moon.

I stand there in awe as co-workers scurry past me, rushing to the comfort of their cars. I don’t even realize my breath is visible or my hands are going numb.

Winter is a time of neutral colors: white, gray, brown. But she has a few tricks up her sleeve, and this one is magical.

By the time I get home, it’s usually dark and the colors are gone. But they live on in my memory, enough to hold me until the next day when the show begins again.

There will be sunsets in the spring and summer, but I’ll most likely miss them.

Right now I have no choice, and I’m glad.

Here’s to beauty in unlikely places and times.

Farewell

I just learned this past week that our local bookstore, Spellbound, will be going out of business. Once again, this town will not have a bookstore! A few years ago, I wouldn’t have thought it possible that a university town could exist without a bookstore, but I guess times are changing.

I know we’ve made great progress in technology, and I can’t imagine life without the Internet, but I sometimes ask myself if it’s all for the better. I want to wander among the bookshelves, letting a particular cover catch my eye. I want to flip through a few pages, or check out the back cover. I want to find something unexpected. I can’t do any of that on a website where you have to search by author or title. I don’t always know what I want!

I went into Spellbound to express my condolences. While I was there, I investigated the shelves, letting my eyes roam. I bought a book that I never would have expected beforehand, a book about eloquence. It was a good find, one I never would have made if I had to search for something specific. I’ll miss that feeling of discovery.

I realize that I could browse among the books in a library sale or at the recycling center, but that has a drawback: if I buy a book that way, my money is going to a good place, but not to the author. As you can imagine, I want to do what I can to support other writers.

I’ll miss Spellbound for other reasons, too. Brett and Marcy are two of the nicest people you’ll meet and they’ve been very supportive of me and other local authors. They held a book signing for several of us and they held a short story contest that got me out of my comfort zone last year, something I needed. They were always friendly and fun to talk to. I wish them the best and hope they’ll find some new endeavor that they’ll enjoy.

This also means I don’t have a local outlet for my novels right now. Some people don’t buy things online (amazing as that seems) and I liked to be able to tell them they could get one of my novels at Spellbound. Now the only outlet in town is the trunk of my car, which holds three copies of each novel. I don’t take credit cards or offer espresso, though.

I realize that we can’t stop progress. I realize that most people are perfectly happy shopping online because it can be quite convenient and lets them avoid the crowds. (I especially understand that at this time of year.)

But I’ll miss the personal service, the friendly face of the proprietor. I’ll miss the sense of surprise when I turn a corner to find something I never expected. I’ll miss the warm atmosphere.

I guess I’m old-fashioned.

      But I also think it’s possible that some things that are left behind shouldn’t be.

It Happened

It happened! The Cubs are the World Series Champions!

No more "maybe next year." No more talk about curses, goats, black cats. They did it!!!

Besides the fact that it lets me think about something other than politics, why does it matter? Because this team, and their fans, deserved it. The team never gave up, even when they were down three games to one and it looked dire. The fans never stopped loving them, even when it looked dire. They deserve each other and the championship.

I'm a relative newcomer to Cubs fandom, having joined the ranks 29 years ago, but I know the heartache, the resignation, the anguish that used to come at the end of every year. I was always so hopeful and then I was crushed.

But now I can rejoice! I can celebrate! I can smile all through the winter. And so can Cubs fans all over the world.

Thank you to the Cubs for making this happen. Thank you for NEVER giving up!
Thank you for giving me hope each year and giving all of us joy this year.

Here's what I wrote in July: Go Cubs blog

They made history in that 7th game. And I'm pretty sure they've changed me for the better.

Halloween Story

To get you in the mood for Halloween, here's my entry from the short story contest last year. I hope you'll enjoy it ... and have a spooky Halloween!

Fall

The ice cream truck’s days were numbered.

All summer long, Alice had gritted her teeth and turned up her iPod so she could try to ignore the siren song of “Pop! Goes the Weasel.”

She’d drawn the shades and kept her eyes focused on the monitor to erase dancing visions of the Choco Taco, the chocolate chip cookie sandwich, the Nestlé Crunch bar, the Drumstick.

She’d nibbled on dry-roasted peanuts and dried fruit, reminding herself of the many advantages of working at home.

But now winter was peering at her over the horizon, its icy claws and cold breath only weeks away, while autumn lay faint upon the landscape, wrapping colored leaves around it to stay warm.

Maybe because she saw it as her last chance, Alice let her gaze stray from the spreadsheet and wander as if by chance to the front door. She peeked at the little tin of peanuts on the corner of the desk, imagining them covered in melted chocolate, and then at her billfold, remembering the lonely five-dollar bill inside.

She could hear the truck inching along the street, its peppy song faltering at her hesitation.

“Oh!” She dug through the billfold to claim her prize and ran out onto the lawn. The white truck was already two houses down so she cried out, waving the bill over her head.

The truck’s red brake lights glared at her.

Alice hustled along the side of the truck, panting, and stopped to consider her choices. As she did, two small figures darted from the truck and ran in irregular spirals on the lawn behind her, chittering and jabbering.

Happy customers? The vendor’s children, glad to be temporarily free?

Alice focused on the list of enticements.

A voice spoke from behind her: “That’s the wrong truck.”

The two spiraling figures halted. Alice thought she saw one turn its head for an instant, revealing what looked like a gaping skull, but it quickly averted its face. She realized it must be wearing some type of mask, although it was still early for Halloween.

Alice pivoted to see a small, blond-haired girl on the lawn behind her, standing with arms crossed and lower lip jutting out. The girl wore a blue dress with the faces of Anna and Elsa on the front and looked to be about six. When Alice checked, she could see the girl’s mother sitting on the porch steps, absorbed in her phone. A teddy bear lay forgotten on a blanket near the porch as the girl approached Alice.

Alice knelt down so she was almost at eye level. “Would you like to go ahead of me, sweetie?”

“No, it’s the wrong truck,” the girl insisted. “Run away!”

Alice blinked away the enchanting images of ice cream treats to see both childlike figures turn grinning skull-faces toward her and extend clawed hands in her direction. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw a plume of black smoke rising over the top of the truck like a wave. Dark shadows moved inside. The girl hadn’t been fooled, and now Alice wasn’t either.

Alice clutched at the bill in her hand and closed her eyes against the horrific visions. She wanted to live! She wanted a better job, friends, someone who cared what happened to her. Ice cream wasn’t the answer.

All Alice had to do was scoop up the little girl and run …

Then Alice heard the girl scream and opened her eyes.

Not two feet away, the girl’s mother was leaning forward, extending a hand with two crumpled bills in it toward the gaping maw on the side of the truck.

“No, Mommy!” the girl cried. “Stop!”

“Mommy will be with you in a minute,” the woman said in a faraway voice.

Something dark inside the truck was reaching forward.

It was as plain as the spreadsheet in Alice’s empty house: the little girl had left the safety of her blanket to warn Alice and now she was about to lose her mother because of it.

Alice took one last look at the little girl’s tear-streaked face before jumping up to knock the woman aside.

“No,” Alice said in her loudest voice as she held out her hand, “I was here first.”

She felt something cold and scaly close on her wrist. The five-dollar bill slid from her grasp, to be replaced with something even colder and squishy. Alice didn’t look at it as she took a large bite.

It was the most delicious treat she’d ever tasted. Chocolate and vanilla, with a hint of peanuts, all swirled together into near perfection. Alice smiled.

The wind sucked in its breath. The purple sky spat lightning and coughed thunder. Smoke enveloped the truck, Alice, the shrieking goblins. With an orange flash and a popping sound, all of them vanished.

Mother and daughter were left clutching at each other, kneeling on the lawn with their heads pressed together. After a few moments, they looked up.

“She was a nice lady,” the girl said.

The mother shook her head. “Who? I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay, Mommy.” The little girl smiled at the vacant spot near the curb, where the last wisps of smoke were dissipating. “I do.”

©Diane McCallum 2016

Advancing

Will someone please tell me how it got to be October? It's been almost a month since my last post! It certainly doesn't seem that long and I apologize for it.

September was quite a challenging month at work, both in workload and issues that arose for me and my co-workers. Things are working out, for the most part, but it kept me busy and I was often so tired when I got home that I plopped in front of the TV and didn't do anything, including thinking about my blog.

Just in case work wasn't overwhelming enough, Elon Musk and another co-worker decided to jump into the mix (although not with the purpose of overwhelming me). You might have heard about Elon Musk and SpaceX's plan for Mars exploration and colonization. He's looking at the 2020s to start, which is amazingly soon if you think about it, and his plans are detailed. If you'd like to see the video (which is long and rather technical in places, but also fascinating), try this: Elon Musk Mars Plan Or here's a shorter, more visual look: SpaceX Interplanetary Travel

A co-worker had mentioned the longer video to me so I watched most it. At first I was right there with the plan, but it wasn't long before he got into the technical aspects of the propellant and engines, leaving me behind. I'm certainly not an engineer.

As I contemplated that, my co-worker mentioned the D-Wave computer, which I'd never heard of (that was embarrassing). I Googled it today and it only took a very short time before I found myself floundering. The big problem is that it's based on quantum physics, which is a subject I must admit my brain can't wrap itself around. I've tried, but the concepts are so fantastic that I'm not able to envision or make sense of them. This made the D-Wave computer almost opaque to me. I can sort of understand cooling atoms down until they're almost motionless, and I can almost envision them merging in waves, but then I get lost trying to understand how that would lead to computing anything, especially when it's not clear whether the results would be statistically reliable or whether alternate universes are possible or not.

Whew! I'm not giving up on either of these things, the Mars plan or the D-Wave computer, but I might have to let myself marvel at them without completely comprehending them. I drive a car without knowing the intricacies of its computer, so I guess this is the same thing.

The only thing that gives me pause about this is that I write science fiction. Shouldn't I understand the science? Well, I can try, but I'm not always going to succeed. What I must remember is that I can't pretend to understand something I don't. Believe it or not, there are things in my novels that I couldn't fully explain (besides what's going on in Nick's head, I mean), but I do my best not to make it look like I understand them. Does that make sense? I know nothing about machinery but one of my main characters is a mechanic. I try to say what he's working on without making it obvious I don't know how to do that. I don't make up some kind of tool or piece of equipment so mechanics everywhere can exclaim, "What?! She doesn't know what she's talking about!"

I'm also not going to throw a D-Wave computer into my next novel just because it's the latest thing. I'll leave that to writers who understand it. As for the colonization of Mars, that wasn't even a possibility when I started writing my novels, so I'll just have to live with it if I didn't foresee it. That's the risk a science fiction writer takes. (I feel like I got a few things right, though. Autoguide, anyone?)

I guess I'm trying not to get too overwhelmed. If I think I have to understand everything related to space exploration or include all of the latest technology in my novels, I'm going to write mush. I might do that anyway, but I'm trying to avoid it!

Meanwhile, I can marvel at the latest advances. I hope you will, too.

Shaken

By now you've probably heard about the earthquake in Oklahoma this morning. It was 5.6, centered a little north of Pawnee, OK, and we felt it in Pittsburg, KS. I was in bed when it felt like a strong person had grabbed the frame and was shaking it vigorously. I could hear items on the dresser rattling. My brain ruled out a passing truck and something hitting our house before it settled on "earthquake." It shook us a little, but no damage was done.

I've also been a little shaken figuratively.

When I first published Outsider, I thought I'd probably sell about three or four copies, mostly to family members. To my amazement, the people at work were excited to hear I'd been published. They lined up to buy the book and asked for my autograph. One even wanted to have her picture taken with me. This was followed by a whirlwind of books signings and an interview for the local newspaper.

Hindsight now tells me the truth: they thought "published" was the same as "famous." They thought I was already there ... and after a while, I believed it, too.

Lately, with book sales at zero, I've realized that we were mistaken. I'm not a failure, because I have four books published, but I'm not really successful either.

That's okay. Not everyone can be Stephen King or J.K. Rowling and I'm fine with that. The problem is that I spent too much time worrying that I didn't try hard enough or wasn't good enough ... and that's dried up my writing. That's not okay.

I'm going to try to go back to that feeling I first had when I saw Outsider pop up on amazon.com: happy and excited. I'm going to try to reacquaint myself with my characters. I might try to introduce myself to some new characters. Most of all, I want to reorient my thinking so that I don't obsess over how many books I've sold and instead concentrate on the joy of writing. That's what matters to me.

I was a little shaken, but I hope no damage was done.