Musings

I had a good day on Wild Cards this morning, and then it was off to the barn for my first riding lesson since Steppi died last July. I had a business call about Western Minerals that put me arriving at the barn 15 minutes later than I’d hoped. I’d wanted to have done all my warm up work before Lauren arrived, but I had just walked for a few minutes. It actually worked out great because I could really show her the problems I was experiencing with controlling his right side.

We worked mostly to the left, really trying to get him to soften his jaw and come through and over his back. We got it really well at the trot, less well at the walk, (an aside, the walk is one of the hardest gaits to master. Horses are often either ambling or jigging. Getting the long flowing, marching walk is very difficult), and the canter was agony, but I’m seeing how to fix this problem. She pointed out to me that he stiffens the muscles on the right side of his spine and throws my seat bone off to the right until I’m hardly sitting on the long back muscles. She then pointed out that no matter which direction I’m travelling — to the left with the right to the outside of the circle or to the left I need to really keep my right seat bone pressed against his spine so he can’t blow out the right shoulder. I then have to add to this occasionally counter flexing him to the right, and driving his right hind leg toward his left ear and into the left rein with my right seat and thigh. Once he softens I get to take his head back to the center of his chest until he tries to drive out the right, and then I do it all over again. She showed me an interesting tip where I can lift the snaffle bit (I was riding in the double bridle today) up into the corner of his mouth, and get if off the bar of his jaw without actually lifting my hand and rein. You vibrate the right rein with your ring finger, then you lift the palm of your hand, but not your arm. It was amazing how well he responded.

We did left lead canter on a ten meter circle until my right leg and arm were literally shaking with fatigue, but I got him correct a few times. He is so strong he was managing to pull me out of the saddle, and get my elbows fairly straight at which point I had no control and the ten meter circle would become a twenty or thirty meter circle as he just went out the right shoulder. Oh, and my back is in knots because she really got me sitting down in the saddle, my shoulder blades rolled back and down, and my lats pulling down toward my hips. Try that while sitting on a 1200 pound animal who is trying to convince you to let him sprawl and not stay collected while remembering where to keep your seat bones, and keeping your knees up and your heels down, and not gripping with your lower leg, and softening his right jaw, and occasionally opening the inside rein…. well, you get the idea. I have sung opera, and danced point when I was studying ballet seriously, and this is truly the hardest and most complex thing I have ever done. It was pretty gratifying though because a bunch of people were watching and they said Pi looked like a different horse. Now I just need a hot bath and a massage and I’ll be almost human again.

This coach is fabulous and we’re lucky to have her back in New Mexico. She has been riding with Gunter Seidel in California for the past few years, and Gunter’s coach said she is the finest female rider in the United States. Cool, huh? She is the lady who has been training Dream Weaver, but alas, she forgot to leave the video of the stallion today. I’m really anxious to see him. I asked her if she thought I could ride Dreamer and she said I’d have no trouble. She said I’m a really lovely rider which made me feel good since I’ve been off for almost a year with only sporadic time in the saddle.

So that’s my big horsy info dump. I’m getting it out of my system here so I will just give a flavor of this in the third Edge book. My protagonist is having to learn how to ride a dressage horse but as a war horse under the “gentle” coaching of a former German Olympian.

I went home, changed out of breeches and into jeans and went back to the barn for Pi’s promised bath. This is a really nice barn, and the water in the wash racks is heated. He still didn’t like it much. He will now let me run the water onto his forehead, and as it drips off his muzzle his big tongue comes out and he laps at the water. I had a bucket full of Cowboy Magic shampoo and water, and I used a long handled brush so I could actually scrub the top of his hindquarters. This is horse is so spoiled, how spoiled is he, you might ask. I’m using Abba mint scented cream rinse on his tail. Somehow I think he doesn’t care that he’s getting a top of the line product on his tail. He’d rather have it thick with dirt I’m sure. He does have a beautiful thick tail. That comes from the Dutch sire. The Dutch horses seem to have these fabulous tails. Poor Steppi’s was always rather sparse and it didn’t help that Pi ate it one summer.

Moving to the other end. Pi has a really thick, really crazy mane. The lower half lays on the right side of his neck, and the top half flops onto the left side of his neck. It’s too long and too thick right now, and he _hates_ to have it pulled to the regulation two inch length so I’ve developed a trimming technique using scissors. It’s not as effective as back combing, wraping the remaining hair around the metal comb and pulling it out, but he uses his big head like a battering ram, knocking me off the footstool when I try. Unless he’s sedated, and I really don’t like to do that for something that’s just cosmetic. Hey, by the time it’s braided and he’s in the show ring the judge can’t see that I cheated and used scissors. But I digress. While his mane was nice and wet I pulled it all onto the right side of his neck, braided hunks of it, and tied it off with the heaviest rubber bands I could find. I’m hoping if it dries to the right, and stays braided for a few days it will act like a normal mane. I’m trying to make him beautiful for his close up. I’d like to get some pictures of the big guy and me riding him up on the web site. I may even try to do a short video at some point. Once we’ve got this right side thing straightened out.

Boy, I love horses. I guess you could tell, huh?

Melinda

Just a quick post tonight. I wrote on Wild Cards this morning, and then went off to ride Pi. He was good, but as usual, tiring. I got home at 1:30, ate some lunch, and helped Carl build the frame for the Japanese “bell”. It’s not actually a bell, it’s a piece of steel from the International Balloon Museum. Carl was the project architect on the project and he took this as a souvenir. Now we just have to buy rope to lash the bell to the frame. This is an area of the house where there is a round window, and a run off area that I have lined with beach stones. I want to get sand or pebbles and do a kind of Zen garden out there. Maybe a bit of bamboo or a single tree. It should look really cool.

I spent an hour building more erosion control terraces, and then it was time to start cooking. George R.R. and his lady Parris were coming over for dinner. I made pork loin with hazelnut hollandaise sauce, green peas and yams. I had also baked an apple pie. I’m rather famous for my apple pies. Each fall I go to Dixon’s (a local apple farm), and buy a bushel of champagne apples. This past year I figured out that I could prepare the filling, and freeze it in pie sized packets. I have two left, and they have to last through the summer.

We had a nice visit, and ended up talking about when is a daddy/mommy government too much? What got us started is the anti-scald unit that was in George’s shower. He wants to take a hot shower. I was complaining about the low flow faucets even though I know in New Mexico they are a really good idea. We shouldn’t waste water, but sometime I want some water pressure, damn it! We realized that we are all liberals, and believe the government should care for it’s citizens, but when does it go beyond caring and become oppressive? Should we be banning trans fats in New York City, and smoking in public places? Personally I love the smoking ban. I grew up with parents who were both chain smokers, and I find the smell nauseating, but… but….

I have a feeling that as resources become more scarce, clean water, oil, etc. we’re going to find more and more curtailment of our personal freedoms. I love my little hot sportscar, but wouldn’t a hybrid be more responsible? Probably. And perhaps the government will eventually make that decision for me.

Okay, I’m going to take my aching body off to the Temperpedic matress.

Melinda

I feel like I’ve been really busy the past few days. I had to be in Albuqueruqe for a board meeting for the natural gas company (it went well), and I got to have lunch with my buddies at my favorite Thai restaurant. If anybody is passing through Albuquerque it’s called Thai Tip and it’s up on Wyoming Blvd. Today I got back to riding Pi, and I don’t know if it’s because we’ve gone from winter to summer in a single day, but he was a lazy pig. I felt like I was carrying him around the arena on my leg. Now my legs, and back and seat, and gut are really tired. Tomorrow The Whip!

I came home and started to work on Wild Cards, then called Michael Cassutt to brainstorm over the manager’s notes on The Big Space Movie. We got a plan, and I said I would put in the bullet points in the document while Mike tied up some other work. Then we had a series of cascading power failures. I have no idea what caused them, but it destroyed some of my work, and when the power finally came on to stay I found that the wireless mouse and the wireless ergonomic keyboard wouldn’t work anymore. So I hauled out the Mac keyboard and mouse so I could keep working. I’m not sure I accomplished just a whole hell of a lot.

I needed some outside time so I went out to build terraces off the edge of my cliff. I’ve got some places where there is bad erosion, and I need to get the dams and terraces built before the monsoon season. I’m also still waiting on a bid from another irrigation expert. I’m desperate to start planting, but I’ve got to have in the means to water using the cisterns and the grey water. I may by a big bag of wild flowers and broadcast seed the sides of the hills once we’re closer to the summer rains.

All in all things are a little dull right now. There is a horse for sale that I want to go see. His name alone makes me want to own him. Dream Weaver. What a perfect horse for a writer to own.

Melinda

So, I’ve just been over reading Gabriele’s wonderful web site, and looking at cool pictures and wishing I could go to Europe again, and she was running through all of her various projects, and the ones she had decided to set aside so she could focus on all the other books, and it had me thinking about working on mulitiple projects and how you do it.

I used to always write on two projects at a time. I would devote the morning to one and the afternoon to the other. But now I’m faced with writing three things and I seem to be going into a brain lock. I’ve got the Wild Card interstitial story I’m writing. I figured out the opening prologue for the third Edge book (which desperately needs a title), and now my Hollywood manager wants me to write a spec pilot.

He’s nixed my quirky show set in a thinly disguised Taos because he says it’s not something for which I am known, and that it would be very tough to get anyone to read it. Remember, I’m the chick who writes action. He said he hoped for two things to happen for a writer — first, that you have a subject or an area that you feel passionately about, and second that, hopefully, that area is “in your wheelhouse”. I told him I feel pretty passionate about horses and the whole world cup competition thing, and that Nina Tassler over at CBS has felt that a show about horses would really appeal to women viewers. So he’s going to make a few inquiries to see if there is any interest in that area. He also wants me to have “a couple of more pilot ideas”. They always throw this out so casually as if creating a television franchise was something you can do in between plucking your eyebrows and strolling off to the market.

I haven’t actually started writing on the third EDGE book. I’ve got the first three chapters pretty well set in my mind, and some of the dialogue in place, so now it’s time to put butt in chair and fingers on the keyboard. But it’s hard to actually start putting ant tracks on the glowing white screen because there is no contract for this book. I’m just trying to have it ready if the first two books should take off and do well. If they don’t do well there is no way I will sell this book. After all these years a professional writer it’s very hard to keep writing for no money. The contract really does focus the mind wonderfully. But you have to prime the pump if you’re going to survive in this business so I’ll just have to find a way to keep splitting my focus.

Of course I also have to run Western Minerals, and I have an upper level dressage horse, and it takes two hours to effectively work him. A half hour of prep on either side of an hour ride. I want that sleep helmet they’ve invented that gives you the equivalent of eight hours of sleep in three hours.

Melinda

I’m a disappointed fan, and for a whole lot of reasons. I loved the first two Spiderman movies, and found Toby Maguire to be totally endearing as Peter Parker, but this movie was an overall mess with an occasional pleasant scene. I don’t know if the studio demanded More, Better BIGGER ACTION! or if Raimi lost his deft touch, but this film was over done and over loaded with villains and conflict. I thought long and hard about this film last night before I went to sleep, and I realized that they were trying to explore the theme of “forgiveness”, but they didn’t need seven points of conflict to do that. Let’s count them up — we had Peter vs. Harry over MJ’s affections. The we had Spiderman vs. the Hobgoblin over the death of daddy, and Harry/Hobgoblin’s need for revenge. We had Peter vs. the a**hole photographer who took his job. And then the guy turns into Venom so we had Spiderman vs. Venom. We had Spiderman vs. Sandman. And of course we had Spidey vs. Black Spiderman. And we had Peter in conflict with MJ.

I was disappointed that they changed screenwriters, and went with Raimi’s brother. The scenes with Aunt May in the first two films where she had subtley and deftly provided Peter with life lessons gave way to scenes where she Delivered the Message with a Jack Hammer — talk about on the nose and heavy handed.

Then there was the confused nature of the scenes. I found myself turning to my companions at various points and saying “what was that scene about?” “What was that scene supposed to do?” There is one in particular between Peter and MJ that had me shaking my head, and wondering if Dunst’s contract said she had to have x many minutes of screen time.

And that’s when I began to see the real flaw in this movie beyond the “too many notes Herr Mozart” problem. Building a book or a film is like constructing a pyramid or a ziggurat. The opening scenes lay the foundation of this structure. They set up the problem and the people. After that each subsequent scene has to build on these early scenes. They have to start narrowing the focus and carrying forward the story as you pull everything in toward the conclusion. You can’t just string scenes like beads on as string. You’ve got to consider the color and clarity and shape of the structure you are building. I like a scene to carry me into the next scene, and in some cases catapult me into the following scene. The scenes in Spiderman 3 felt like they were just thrown together randomly, and then there was this mad scramble at the end as they tried to pull it all together for Harry to forgive Peter and go off to save the girl.

And my finale little feminist rant — I’m really tired of the women in these movies being screaming luggage. Oh, and Peter in the throes of Dark Peter had me giggling because all I could think about was Weird Al’s song “White and Nerdy”.

Well, maybe Harry Potter will be good, and I’ve heard the next FANTASTIC FOUR is much better than the first one.

Melinda

I’m about to brave it and go see SPIDERMAN despite the review in the New York Times. (I adore Toby McGuire). But while I was killing time I was trying to get ready to write the third interstitial for Wild Cards. My character has to stay in a small west Texas town. George had wanted me to place it in Wink, but Wink has no accomodations — of any kind. So I broadened the search, and discovered Pecos Texas, site of the first rodeo. They have several hotels. They even have the Best Western Swiss Clock hotel. Yes, I definitely have to have my supercilious Brit stay there. This is the kind of thing that makes Google invaluable. You can get some really bad info on the net, so you have to pick and choose how you use it, but for this kind of thing — priceless.

Melinda

My web manager gave me a lesson on how to upload pictures so now I’m going to go wild! If you go back to the post about a Fun Saturday and Lazy Sunday you will be able to see photos of the two rugs I bought.

I then decided to show off my house. Carl entered the house in the Su Casa competition and he had a beautiful photo for his entry. I decided to recreate it and here it is. Let me give you a little description. My house has been dug a bit so it won’t loom too high on the cliff’s edge. When you approach the house you see this interesting translucent peaked roof, and very plain front doors. They are just slabs of wood. Then you open them and you see this! –

The entryway has a stained concrete floor and the roof is Kalwall. I love my house and count myself fortunate that I get to work in this wonderful space.

Melinda

Went and saw HOT FUZZ on Sunday after the return from Portales. This movie is brought to you courtesy of the guys who made SHAUN OF THE DEAD, and it had the same wonderful send-up quality. Unlike Mel Brooks whose satires became so broad that they were unwatchable these gentlemen give you all the trops without a slavish imitation of any particular movie.

I have enjoyed buddy cop movies, and for a long time I was addicted to the BBC mysteries. Hot Fuzz captures all the beats, and even takes it down to the level of how they light a scene so it looks like one of these BBC shows. The cast is filled with terrific British actors who all looked like they were having a great time. I found it laugh out loud funny.

I had a few laughs at my expense too becuase the main character in my EDGE novels is a policeman.

All in all a good time and I recommend seeing the film. I’ll probably go see SPIDERMAN this weekend, but I’m worried. It looks like it might be a mess with all the villain plots.

Melinda

Continuing the theme of Portales — Lets Eat! We all met up at Marks for breakfast, and compared notes from our discussions with the president. We got back to the hotel just in time to form the caravan out to the ranch. I rode with Elanor Wood, Terry and Ian in Elanor’s rental car. It’s about a thirty minute drive, and on the way we passed fields of winter wheat, and a pasture full of mares and foals. I was desperate to stop and get a baby horse fix, but I’m alone in my passion for horses.

Once you turn on the long dirt road that leads to the ranch, you pass the original homestead. It’s a ruin now, and an owl lives up in the rafters. We never spotted him, but could hear him fluttering and scrabbling around as he was disturbed by all of us gawking. No one knows the exact size of the Williamson ranch. Gene Bundy told me that there are two questions you never ask a rancher — how much land he owns, and how many head of cattle he runs on that land.

The ranch house fits the standard definition of a “ranch” house. It’s a rambling, sprawling one story building filled with the smells of delicious food. So many years as the hostess always leaves me twitching to do something so I helped prepare silverware and napkins restaurant style for the coming feast. There was BBQ beef, pinto beans, fresh vegetables, macaroni and cheese, and fruit salad. There were also the traditional Williamson Old Fashioneds, but I declined because I’m not much a drinker and that much bourbon would have had me quietly asleep in a corner in about fifteen minutes.

After lunch the writers and the folks from ENMU went into a huddle to discuss the lectureship. I had lain awake a bit the night before thinking about what it was that made the lecturship valuable to me. I realized it was the chance to spend three days in the company of ther writers, and not be in a hurry, and not really to be “on” and having to impress people. I had met Connie Willis a number of times, but we didn’t get to know each other and become good friends until a lecturship. That’s really valuable. While science fiction writers have their annual gathering at World Con you don’t really get to talk with anyone. You see people for a few moments as you run between panels, or of to have drinks with your agent, or off to dinner with your editor. At the smaller cons there is more of a chance to visit, but the number of writers is also reduced. (Unless you’re at Bubonicon where I swear the writers outnumber the fans.)

What we cooked up was the idea that we utilize the writers more by sending them into the classrooms of the English department. Connie and I have taught a number of times on campus and really enjoyed it. We need to widen that exposure of students to writers. For our community we have to stress the opportunity to connect with your peers in a setting that isn’t as intense as a writer’s workshop. Sage Walker and I also discussed this after I got home, and she had a neat idea of maybe doing the equivalent of a “master class” in music. The university would have two or three famous writers come in for the entire week before the lectureship, and work with students. I think this has a lot of value. We also have to do a better job of enlisting the aid of the English department. The lectureship has run for years on the efforts of volunteers who were necessarily part of the campus. Our young aspiring writer, Stephen, said not a single class announced the lectureship of the panel discussions in the library. He finally forced the issue by asking one of his professors to announce the events.

I fell into a long conversation with Geni. She is a Spanish teacher and her speciality is ESL instruction. (English as a second language). She is _so_ frustrated with the Bush administration because the No Child Left Behind ignores or actively throws out all the research that indicates that non-English speakers learn English more quickly if they are in a bilingual program. I rather bitterly said that if it has anything to do with actual facts, much less science the administration will ignore it totally. Geni reported that when kids are thrown in the deep end they become so confused, isolated and embarrassed that they just end up dropping out of school. I swear sometime I think it’s a plot by the Republicans to create a very large, and permanent underclass who will be too scared and too poor to demand decent wages, working conditions and hours.

I finally hit the wall on conversation so I walked out to the small building that Jack had constructed, the place where he could write. I remembered Elanor marveling as we pulled in that it was in this tiny two room, well shack really, that he wrote DARKER THAN YOU THINK while a full moon shone in the windows. I then wandered over to look at the horses. One buckskin moved so strange behind that I went in to find Mitz who acts as ranch foreman and has married into the Williamson clan. Mitz is 72, and adores horses. Only when you’re a cowboy you don’t really admit to that. Horses are just furry trucks and used that way. But Mitz loves horses. So we talked horses, I got the scoop on the buckskin, and then he and I went out to see his two horses. A couple of teenage girls came with us, and got a lesson how to lead a horse and curry a horse. Mitz’s horse Tom aka Chuckles is a tiny little grade gelding with a lot of Quarter horse in him. He probably is too small for Mitz who is very tall and just big, but a real bond exists between them. I spent a lot of time scratching Chuckles, and pulling off clumps of winter coat. Mitz’s other horse is part thoroughbred, and he’s not reliable.

I returned to the house to wash the horse dirt off my hands, and found Patrice heading back into town. I begged a ride, and spent a couple of hours in the room just processing all the conversations, and all the wonderful moments. A gang of us headed to the Cattle Baron for dinner, and despite being in south eastern NM I ordered the shrimp because I needed something other than meat. We called it an early night.

On Sunday we drove home Where Ian and I prompty joined Carl for a late lunch at Maria’s (good, hot New Mexican food and _no_ meat) followed by a movie. Which will send me into a Hollywood post about Hot Fuzz. But that’s for later.

So now the question. How do you gather writers and readers in a place like Portales when you no longer have that master, and all around gentleman — Jack Williamson?

Melinda

Friday night was a lovely evening with a few clouds moving across a turquoise sky that slowly turned rose, then lavender as the sun sank. All of the writers headed off to the university president’s house for the faculty picnic. It was hamburgers and garden burgers and hotdogs. Side dishes included the usual bowl of salsa. (Even down in little Texas we have to have our fix of hot food), potato salad (surprise, it was good. Another confession. I’m unAmerican. I intensely dislike potatoes) and baked beans. The house is a lovely brick ranch house with an enormous backyard. Ian’s comment as we entered the yard was that he wanted to be the president of ENMU.

The yard was filled with folding chairs and tables, and the real surprise was the ENMU steel drum band. The rhythms of the Caribbean filled the twilight, and these kids were really good although it was a head shaking moment. The President is a tall elegant man who was very patient as first Ed, then Connie and I, followed by Walter button holed the poor man to tell him how much the lectureship meant to all of us. He seemed very open to the idea of continuing and even said they would spend some money on advertising if we would help them pick the venues. That was very encouraging, but we need to figure out how to present this event. It was one thing when Jack was alive, but we are out in the middle of nowhere.

After being that serious for that long I needed some outright fun. The music was good, and Walter Jon is one hell of a dancer. We started dancing, but no one followed suit. I guess nobody knows how to party like science fiction writers, or maybe any writers. Walter was a good sport because he’s six feet tall and I’m only five foot two so dancing with me puts a kink in his back. Still we had fun. Then at 8:00 o’clock the party was over. We were all just warming up so Walter Jon and Patrice went on an expedition to the Walmart for wine and snacks.

As the rest of us were returning to our cars the evening breeze brought the pungent scent of the feed yard a mile or so away. As Eau de Corral wafted across us I asked Ian if he still wanted to be President of ENMU. He was rethinking the decision. Back at the hotel we commandeered the breakfast room at the hotel, and talked until 11:30 pm. Much of the conversation centered around Clarion. It was interesting that the younger writers — Ian, and Emily had attended Clarion. Stephen is contemplating attending, and Ed had attended the very first Clarion. Since then he has taught many times, and Connie is a frequent instructor, and Walter Jon has taught though neither of them attended. They discussed the very real pitfalls and advantages of the process. It’s an intensive emersion where you really learn to write, but egos are shatttered, and while they are usually rebuilt there are some who never recover when they discover they are not the most talented person around. Something similar happens in Hollywood when the prettiest girl in high school and the handsomest boy in high school arrive in L.A. and discover that among all the beautiful people they may only be average.

I think it’s a sobering responsibility for a teacher. You don’t want to lie to people, but you can’t utterly destroy them. There is something profoundly personal about the rejection of your story. Because it’s not just a story — if you’re good and honest about your art and craft you are putting a little piece of your soul/self in everything you write. The good news for writers is that we can get better. We can study and learn and improve. In Hollywood so much of the rejection is so completely personal — you’re not handsome/beautiful enough, your breasts are too small/large, you’re too tall/short, your voice is unattractive — frighteningly personal, and usually something you can’t change, fix or improve.

We finally gave up and all went off to bed. Tomorrow was the traditional pilgrimage to the Williamson ranch.

Melinda