"Every spirit continually praises you [God] with mouth turned towards you; animals and physical matter find a voice through those who contemplate them. ... even with [the restless and wicked] everything is beautiful, though they are vile."

--St. Augustine of Hippo

It's the Snowpocalypse, or maybe Snowmageddon, or maybe the Snowviets attacked! That distant screaming you hear from the mid-Atlantic is our reaction to the so far 21 inches* of snow, with no sign of letup. Last night, at the request of my father, I went out at 11PM to shovel the driveway, in the hope that a few shovelings early would mean less work in the morning.

Then, because I am almost unbearably hardcore, I went out again at 3:30 AM and shoveled again.

Have you ever gone out shoveling snow at 3:30 AM? It is magical. The silence is absolute. There is no sky to be seen, because the snow and the clouds obscure everything. The world, reduced to a series of white shapes, seems at once to contract and expand. I considered wandering the streets for a while after I'd finished, because it seemed deceptively doable in that small-hours softness.

I cannot emphasize enough the silence. 3:30 AM is already a quiet hour, but with the addition of so much snow, it is a silence that folds you about, like a casing of powdery white amber. Caught in its profundity, you lose all sense of time, and all desire to be anywhere else. To shovel in such conditions may be tiring, but it is a witchy and marvelous experience.

Unfortunately, after enjoying this solitude and magic, I pulled a muscle in my back, which eight hours later still hurts. So no more shoveling expeditions for Yr. Correspondent for a good day or two. Since I acquired this injury being immensely more hardcore than is my wont, I have some consolation.

And still the tiny children of the weird sky descend...


*Before any of you from northerly states gleefully inform me that 21 inches is nothing, rest assured that I have already heard it and that's not really the point, because while you may get that kind of snow, we don't. Allow us to enjoy our novelty.

I thought about writing something about J.D. Salinger, not unlike the very sincere tribute I wrote to Madeleine L'Engle on her death. It could be argued that I've done all that Internet decorum allows; I expressed my distress appropriately on social networking sites, and drew a picture. But I am a writer first and foremost, and it seemed needful to exercise what little skill is given me in verbiage to honor the dead.

I can't do it. There's really nothing to say about Salinger that he seems likely to've wanted to have said, and the bald facts of my own connection to his works are not ones I particularly want to share. So (and I think this is perhaps more appropriate), I will simply give you, far too dogmatically, the thing that's been gnawing at me since about the age of eighteen. To wit: any contemporary American writer who doesn't at least aspire to one or two of Salinger's major career choices ought to feel just a little bit shamefaced.

I'm pretty sure I don't entirely believe this, and I know it's terrible professional advice--but it keeps me up at nights, and I suppose when you get to the end of the matter that's why I'm so oddly desolated by his demise.

It seems that, since the middle of the month or so, I have been drawing journal comics in my sketchbook. Usually one panel, sometimes more. Pencil only, often a bit hasty. They're not particularly clever or funny, but I've been enjoying making them. Unlike, say, my paper journal, they're not deeply personal, just brief summaries of the most striking/funny thing that happened any given day.

Having accumulated a certain number of these, I am faced with a dilemma: do I share them with the Internet, or not? On the one hand, my goodness Leslie your life is boring how dare you presume to comic about it, plus do you really want to give people that kind of access, plus how is this going to affect your secret goal of becoming J.D. Salinger. On the other hand, I like journal comics and doing one would be fun, plus I always wanted to do a webcomic and my last two tries were interesting but fundamentally lacking.

In such hideous indecision, there is but one thing to be done--turn to the Internet for answers! Now, I am not promising that I will do exactly what this poll advises me--hubris or reticence may yet win the day independently--but I will take your responses into consideration.

Poll #1518817
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 20

Would you be interested in a journal comic about Yr. Correspondent?

Where would you prefer to read such a thing?

Well, gang, this is it. I have been pretty fiercely active this break, posting something either here, at buymelove, or at my devART gallery multiple times a week. It's all pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.

The bell, however, has tolled. Tonight I resume my semesterly custodial job, and tomorrow I resume classes at that fine (if microscopic) institution, Patrick Henry College. I'm taking more credits this semester than last semester, along with working an extra night at the custodial job. Add that to the six hours a week I average commuting, church and family responsibilities, making sure the art shipments do get shipped appropriately...

You can see where this is going. As of tomorrow, I am effectively Scarce On the Internet. I do have a backlog: spare class-doodle posts from the summer, about six weeks' worth of sketchposts, a queue of art uploads, plenty of drabbles, and a couple half-drafted essayposts for this blog. I'd like to promise that I'll keep posting, but I'm honestly not sure how well that's going to work (my track record, she is not so great). All I can say for sure is that I will try to get things up. I will attempt to occasionally update this place with a brief summary of the madness that suffuses my daily activities. I may occasionally glance at my flist. But the overall picture is that Leslie Will No Longer Be Around.

If you really need to get hold of me for something, there's always my email (see my profile), and no matter how good my intentions I generally spend more time than I ought on Twitter.

So. Stay groovy, spacechums, and never forget that disco makes the world go 'round.

Today has been a rather unwell day; nothing serious, just spent the morning lurking around being miserable. This afternoon, however, I hit that point one hits when one has had such a day, the point at which one must do something or go gibbering insane. At this point, I had what seemed to me a brilliant idea. kyrahlynn had already sent me shipping for her art--I could run out and post her package! My mother, ever helpful, came up with a few extra errands for me to run while I was out, picking up a magazine and some sour cream.

I went first to Borders, where I experienced total defeat. The magazine section has never been my friend at the best of times, and today it foxed me utterly. Unable to find the magazine in question, I browsed the sale section moodily, discovered that they were selling a Beatles t-shirt for 50% in a size monumentally too big for me, and then made good my retreat. The sour cream, I am pleased to report, went off without a hitch, but on the road I realized that I'd forgotten something I wanted to include in kyrahlynn's package.

So I went home. I got what I needed, though with some frustration, and went back out. After navigating the post office parking-lot (always an adventure), I sat back, went through the art, assured myself it was all there, and reached for the door handle.

Wait.

Something was missing.

My purse. Including the money necessary for the transaction, and of course my driver's license. I'd left the whole thing at home (my car keys were in my jacket pocket, for the curious--I generally stuff them in there when I'm getting in and out of the car frequently. I am beginning to doubt the wisdom of this habit, admittedly).

"I give up!" I howled. "I see the writing on the wall!"

So I went back home, and I am not setting foot outdoors again today. I am not sure when your package will go out, kyrahlynn, but today is very obviously not the day for it.

Tea is, I think, indicated.

"A spirit of innovation is generally the result of a selfish temper and confined views. People will not look forward to posterity, who never look backwards to their ancestors."

--Edmund Burke

I'm struck by how unthinkable that sentiment is to most of us now; perhaps we should balance it against our inculcated valuation of novelty. Valuing and repeating what came before us is maybe not always a bad thing. Burke refers to politics, of course, but I think it has wider application.

A little unusual for this journal, but since I've got a little bit of a cold today I've been chugging orange juice like a trooper, in one of the Beatlesy pint glasses I got for Christmas. I was struck by how cool the brown-and-orange Rubber Soul design looked against the contents of the glass, so I took a quick photo. Of course, my webcam doesn't really give you an accurate sense of the colors, but it's the best I can do on such short notice.

While we're discussing photos, here's a photo of those gloves that media_res made for me. Are they not the amazingest?

Oh, and thanks so much to everyone who offered fiction recs, quite a few of those titles were either ones I'd heard of but never read, or ones that were entirely new to me. I am going to work through that list going forward, see if I can't broaden my outlook a bit.

(last note, isn't this icon cool? haikujaguar made it, and I cannot stop grinning every time I look at it. It's Yr. Correspondent as one of the alien races in one of her settings!)

Looking at the answers to my questions about "how fantasy does it have to be to be fantasy," I'm beginning to think that, while I do read plenty of fantasy/spec, apparently I've been spending too much time in one side of the genre without realizing it.

So!

Would you be good enough to recommend to me one or two spec books you think are really worth reading? Can be old or new, some preference for less traditional storylines. If you're not sure whether I've read it or not, recommend it anyway!

(deadvole, I will of course be following up that book you recc'd to me the other day)

In other news, I've got a bunch of things I want/need to post about in various places (including, at some point, some book reviews and a review of the Beatles remasters), really need to get hopping on that. I'm feeling a bit under the weather today, though... not sure if that's a cold, or just sinus.

Here's a thing: I have so far written, in what is formally called And Great Was Its Fall (but more usually either SB/MF* or the Silver Beat cycle), nine short stories in various states of disarray (as in, they're all complete, but some need revision). These nine stories take place in Menagerie, which would seem to indicate that they are speculative fiction--you know, alternate retrofuture, fairies, magic, clowns everywhere.

HOWEVER. Of these nine stories, only one or two actually have a magical event central to the plot. The remainder have either peripheral magical happenings, or just vague references to the overall culture of weird. Mostly these nine stories are about four teenaged boys faffing about trying to figure out what they are doing in life.

...

What does one do with stories like this? They don't seem akin to much of the spec I've read in the past handful of years. There are no adventures. There are no mysteries. There are no surprise endings. There is relatively little of the overtly fantastic. The werewolfery and the clairvoyance are a long ways off. Just... these boys and their personal dramas. In an urban/suburban setting that just happens to have fairies and clowns and some wonky technology.

Maybe I'm overthinking this, but it's part of why I've been sitting on these stories with such intense indecision. I'd appreciate some thoughts. How fantasy does it have to be, to be fantasy?


P.S. On a barely-related note, don't forget this opportunity to learn all sorts of exciting things about my characters and other creations.


*I don't think I've ever explained this, either. It's short for Silver Beat/Menagerie Fugue. The first part is obvious, the second is because I took the inspiration for the project's structure from what little I know of fugues.

It's high time, I think, that I made a more general update on my life. From the beginning of the month, then. Sister and Bro-in-Law returned to FL (they were up for Thanksgiving), and I turned from finishing the NaNovel to writing multiple papers and preparing for finals. The last few weeks of semester were filled largely with that. The only other notable occurrence was that I made half-a-dozen little cutouts of my characters, which I've scanned and will be posting to dA in the not-too-distant future.

Finals went fairly well; haven't checked my grades yet (it's complicated) but I felt pretty good about my performance. Then came the Free Monster Party last day of finals. I hung out on campus well into the evening, drawing monsters for folks, then came home to 70 requests. No I am not going to stop boggling over this any time soon. Thanks so much to everyone who got involved!

As a result though, the first four or five days of break were taken up exclusively with drawing monsters. Once I'd accomplished THAT I went straight into Christmas prep. And an awesome Christmas it has been! Quiet, because once again Sister and Bro-in-Law are in FL, but a good one nonetheless. It's good to celebrate with my parents. I got an amazing book from them, which I hope to review once I actually finish it (which will be surprisingly soon). Also, after some strategizing I do believe that on Monday I am going to order the Beatles remasters. Yes, I have given in.

(appropriately, and to my annoyance, all day Christmas I had "Happy Xmas/War is Over" stuck in my head. Imaginary Dead John Lennon strikes again!)

Today I'm going to put together info about shipping on the monster drawings, hopefully to be posted on buymelove tomorrow. I'm also going to fool with some art, and maybe writing. I really ought to've begun the second revision of Quoit already, but I've been so busy I've not had time to do much more than some preliminary planning. Anyroad I'd like to finish this short story about Ed, first; I have multiple unfinished short stories on the stack right now, and I think I need to pop one off for the sake of my writer's conscience. Ed's is closest to being complete.

In short, break proceeds apace, I'm feeling pretty decent, and the New Year is fast approaching, which means the world is wearing thin and magic gets through the cracks. I've got a year-in-review post in the works and I must say, I'm a little startled at all that's happened this year. I've also got a lot of little things to do that are making me feel just the tiniest bit overwhelmed, but I think sitting down and making a nice list will help sort me out.

Stay groovy, spacechums.

As is traditional, my Christmas-morning post-presents holiday drawing:



For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of his government and of peace
there will be no end,
on the throne of David and over his kingdom,
to establish it and to uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time forth and forevermore.
The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.

The incomprehensible intersection of Heaven and Earth took place in the birth of God's Son, given to us that we might believe on Him for eternal salvation. No matter what our circumstances on this day or any other, there is room for rejoicing in this. Can any news be better? Can any celebration be more blessed?

Happy, happy Christmas to you all.

I think that December is a good time to post this--it seems to me that quite a few of us, self included, get very gloomy at the end of the year. So without further ado, here is a reflection on despair from a Christian perspective.

( I am a little nervous because this is a controversial topic and I'm taking an unpopular position, but I think it needs to be said )

You guys, any of you who don't have media_res on your friendslist already, she's going to be open for knitwear/handcraft commissions soon! I can attest personally that her work is AMAZING--I'm wearing the fingerless gloves she made me right now, and they are quite honestly the nicest gloves I have ever owned in my entire life. My arms have never looked so swanky before. Plus, I was able to get exactly what I was looking for, instead of compromising on whatever I could track down.

So check it out, this is a great opportunity!

"But the third class is of those who can say like St. Paul that for them 'to live is Christ'. These people have got rid of the tiresome business of adjusting the rival claims of Self and God by the simple expedient of rejecting the claims of Self altogether.... The will of Christ no longer limits theirs; it is theirs. All their time, in belonging to Him, belongs to them, for they are His."
--C.S. Lewis