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[Contact us at mkeaton@archangelpress.net]
Or visit the weblog at: Speaking of the Mad...
v Okay,
fine. I broke down and made a weblog
for the Thin Man. It's over here (maybe, if I got everything
to work right).
v The webpage
for Calamity's Child
is up! Pop over and have a peak at the
next book by the Thin Man. The book,
published by Double
Edged Publishing and serialized over at Ray Gun Revival is set to be released
at ConClave in October, 2008. Then its over to Squirreled
Away Books in Armada, Michigan on October 8th for a dual
signing with author and editor par excellance Willaim Jones. And did I mention, there will be
contests. Yes, the ultra-cheap and
grumpy Thin Man is actually going to give away a few copies of the book along
with other promotional goodies. I'll
not part with the details yet but I can give a clue to the first contest: the soundtrack to the book. So put you thinking caps on and order the
book today.
v Two months and
two conventions down and the Thin Man is home.
Mostly, he's been sleeping but even when he's awake, it's pretty clear
why we keep the schedule limited. Two
events back-to-back is too many, especially when they do not go smoothly. I cornered him about Omegacon first and
received a heavy sigh and shake of the head.
"Cat," he said, leaning back
in his chair, "How do you say bad things about good people? Omegacon was work, hard work, but that's not
the fault of the fans or the convention workers. The good people of Alabama deserve a top-notch writing convention. They have a real love of the genres and are
wonderfully hospitable. And, it was a
first time convention. Listen,
logistics eats your lunch. We all know
it--been there, done that, got the scars to prove it. So the organizers started out with a lot of benefit of the
doubt--or they would have if certain people involved with promoting the
convention hadn't bragged in advance about how they were all convention
veterans and there would be no problems.
I mean, honestly, if you're going to put as the signature line in your
emails that "No, I'm not a god but after this, you'll think so," then
you have a responsibility to point out that said "god" I'll think you
are is Yog-Sothoth, the blind, mewling, idiot god of chaos that sits gibbering
at the heart of the universe." He
stopped then to share some horror stories with me of such things as the
convention forgetting Guests of Honor at the airport, not having hotel rooms
for them, the total lack of not just a green room but even pitchers of water
(and in one case, chairs) for the panelists.
There's no real point in going into all the specifics. "The problems of the convention can
really be summed up into one issue," he concluded at last. "A lack of leadership. Nothing will ever be perfect. When things fall apart, leaders fix
things. What you cannot fix, you
ameliorate. What you can't ameliorate, you mitigate. And what you cannot mitigate, you
communicate. It's really that
simple--put your head down and move. At
Omegacon, when the going became difficult, the leadership hid. And since, when I was asked for feedback, I
was subjected to the rolling of eyes and dismissal as a prima donna, I doubt
there will be a notable learning curve in the future. That makes me mad; because the people deserve better and because
all the volunteers who ran the convention, who picked up and led when the
leaders fled, took the brunt of the dissatisfaction. There wouldn't have been a convention if it hadn't been for the
ops folks and they took the hit."
I asked if there were any good parts.
"Oh my yes, lots. The ops
volunteers for one. I met Ben Bova,
Alan Dean Foster, and David Drake. Even
better, I was privileged to speak with all manner of wonderful writers, almost
too numerous to mention (though most work for Pyr or Baen). Perhaps my favorite discovery of the weekend
was being able to spend a bit of time with Ann Aguirre--gracious cat, I'd
rearrange my schedule just to do another even with her and Julie. The people of Alabama were even more
gracious than I remembered and the bed-and-breakfast Cottage Cove was a small
glimpse of fairyland itself. I
definitely want to keep a southern convention on the schedule. I love the people." I asked if he would consider returning to
Omegacon, assuming it was held again. "A
year is a long time and a lot can change.
Let me simply say that I'd be very happy to hear from Armadillocon or
Mid-South."
After all this, I was a bit nervous
about asking how Penguicon went but he waved away my concerns. "Penguicon was Penguicon. I've gone there since the second one and
I'll miss it next year. Their are so
many familiar faces, it's like visiting family. Tammy Pierce and Vernor Vinge were genteel and kind and I was
thrilled to learn Mrs. Pierce is as passionate about literacy as I am. Bonus this year--Mad Mike brought his kids,
Tammy brought Tim, and Sarah (Monette) introduced me to her husband. I like meeting families. We've buried so many writers over the last
few years, it does my heart good to see another generation coming up. I got a copy of William (Jones) new book and
was not disappointed--excellent Lovecraftian horror. The workshop seemed to go well.
There's a lot I could gush about but I'm still tired. My biggest complaint is that the entire
literary track and its presenters were treated like second-class citizens in
the midst of a tech convention. But
really, it was a good convention. Just
hard for me to give the fans the attention and energy they deserve; I pushed to
hard doing two cons back-to-back and I'm sorry if I didn't give anyone as much
attention as they deserved."
He paused, then continued in a
speculative tone. "There was one
panel on literacy that confused me. I
didn't pick up on it until it was too late to do much about it but the tone in
the room seemed openly hostile. I
couldn't figure out why until it dawned on me that, I don't think it was
hostility as much as defensiveness.
There was a huge amount of tension and pain in the audience of that
panel and I'd like to know why. I
suspect that understanding that defensiveness and pain would go a long way
toward understanding many of the problems we've had teaching literacy. It's worth further thought." And with that, he stood and went back to
bed.
When he gets back up, it's back to
work on Calamity's Child and beyond that, looking forward to ConClave in
October. I suppose I should set up a
page of its own for the new book before he notices I've been goofing off.
v As much as I
hate to be bothered with it, it looks like it's time to update things again. Let's see:
yes, the Thin Man is still going to Omegacon and yes, he's still going
to Penguicon (and hopefully he'll be able to pop into the local libraries and
schools around Birmingham AL and Troy MI while he's out that way.) There's another short story you can go read
for free over in the first issue of MindFlights (Pastels) and
another one due out soon in Haruah (that one will be a print magazine
but here's their website in case they do archive it online: Haruah. He also wrote the introduction for R. L.
Copple's Infinite Realities.
Most importantly, the Thin Man has
been working on the upcoming serialized novel Calamity's
Child. It will be serialized
in Ray Gun Revival
monthly
starting in March, 2008 before finally being released in book form. Definitely go read it, and if you like it
(what's not to like?), log onto their forums and tell them so. If enough people want more, they'll run the
book in bigger chunks to give you more faster.
(Plus, it never hurts to tell a publisher that you actually enjoy and
want to read more of the Thin Man's work so that they'll buy and pay more. Work with me people, I need cat food. I'm too old to mouse for a living anymore.)
That should be about it. Chuin Sartre's Wall and Bitter
Ashes are still unfinished and the short stories come when the short
stories come. Now where's my sunbeam; it's
naptime.
v Well, it's
been a couple of months since the Thin Man landed and stopped spinning. Let me quickly answer some frequently asked
questions. If you rode the bus out of
Fort Lenardwood MO and received a book and/or business card from M. Keaton: yes, that's our M. Keaton. If you got a signed copy of S&K in a box
of books shipped to your APO/FPO: yes,
he signed and sent a copy with every box that went out, specially dedicated to
the soldier who put in the request for books on behalf of his or her unit. And, yes, if you are active duty and
deployed, the bloody fool will try to answer every email, letter, or card and,
if you want it, he will indeed sign and ship you your own copy of S&K as
cost permits. And, yes, I probably
misspelled Lenardwood. Be that as it
may, here is the important news:
Thanks to the loyalty and support of
all the fine people involved, we are humbled to report that a total of 1,664
books and 519 magazines were sent to thirty separate destinations throughout
the theatre of the war from this location alone.
And we know of at least two other
people who were also sending out boxes, though I think the bulk of them came
through here to get dropped on the poor, unappreciated cat who is not so young
anymore. In addition, we will continue
to ship out boxes as we can (just at a much reduced pace, which is good since
at some point the Thin Man needs to stop writing customs forms and finish his
book that's due...well, basically now.
He's a little behind).
Thank you all!
v Here's a bit
of a quiz. If you take a doddering old
man, put him on a bus, spin him in circles for a week, send him to a
convention, make him load a truck, put him back on the bus again, make him
unload a truck, then work a Ren. Faire, what do you end up with? I can tell you this by way of answer: it's not pretty to look at and it doesn't
give very clear event reports for me to update the website with either. But I have managed to patch together a bit
of the tapestry that was the Thin Man's October.
As far as I can translate from the
mumbling, ConClave went well. It was
not as personally enjoyable as it and other conventions have been in the past
because the Thin Man's health was already waning and, as we already know, he
doesn't sleep or eat very regularly when on tour. Nevertheless it was a fine experience and, most importantly, the
book drive went very well. He's still
working on the logistics of things like shipping and so doesn't have final
numbers yet but he estimates that over six hundred pounds of books were
donated. Since he was the one who just
carried them off the truck, he may be estimating high but, from my own beady
eyes I saw that there were enough books to fill more than two pallets.
There were grave concerns going into
the NWA Ren. Faire so soon off the road.
The Thin Man's voice was strained and he had a vicious cough settling
into his chest but with his trademark mixture of stubborn and stupid, he
appears to have pulled it off. At
least, everyone seemed happy and there's been no hate mail here at the
mountain. To quote our wandering bard,
"We put on a good show. Bad
business at times, but a very good show."
Rumor says that there may even be pictures of the "Tea with the
Queen" and if I play cards right, I may be able to get copies and post
them. (Assuming I can figure out how to
post images in html again. I swear this
intermessthingee is hard to run—we need a fanboy to do it.)
So there you are—fragmented
information from a fragmented man. Now
we lock him in a cave for the next two months to finish "Calamity's
Child" by January and only let him out to mail Mbags full of books to the
troops. Once again we have a travel
update that boils down to the statement:
nobody died.
v Some quick
updates. The Thin Man is indeed going
to Omegacon in March. The podcast of his radio interview with Ray Gun Radio is now available
from their site. And, by far the most
important, a "Speaker for the Mad" section has been added to the
"Introductory
Essays" page, including the discourse "On Autism and
Society."
v This is an
important announcement. Yes, the Thin
Man is going to be in Michigan for ConClave
again this year but that's small potatoes compared to the charity event
occurring at the convention that we are honored and humbled to lend our name
and support to. So important, in fact,
that we're going to repeat the entire press release right here:
Conclave New/Used
Book Drive
A New and Used Book Collection Drive benefiting U.S. Military
servicemen overseas will take place at Conclave
Conclave will be collecting new and used FICTION PAPERBACKS AND
HARDCOVER BOOKS to be shipped to select destinations including Iraq,
Afghanistan, Navy ships in the Gulf and hospitals treating recovering wounded.
It is hoped that the donated materials can provide needed entertainment and
comfort for those servicemen who are keeping the peace or on the mend from
action in the Middle East.
Organizers of the Book Drive at Conclave are now readying
logistical support for this consignment of books, which can be donated through
Oct 13 2007 at the convention, and will be collected by dedicated volunteers
helping to run Conclave. Special prizes will be raffled off to individuals who
bring donations, whether they are from their personal collections or books
purchased onsite at Conclave’s Book Merchandise area.
There are a small number of guidelines to follow for book
donations:
- FICTION,
Any Genre except Romance or Poetry.
- HARDCOVER
or SOFT COVER, no ‘stripped’ (coverless) books
- PROSE,
GRAPHIC NOVELS, and COMICS collections, bound or bundled, avoid religious
themes please.
- NEW or
Better-condition USED Books. No extreme wear, water damage or
missing pages.
Details
covering these guidelines and links to a journal of this Book Drive’s progress will be available at Conclave’s website http://www.conclavesf.org
Participating
groups:
Conclave Inc.
The Dorsai Irregulars
MichiganFandom@yahoogroups.com
Archangel Press
Sanctuary Press Author Collective
Tri-Tac Systems
-and more are on the way.
Public
relations contact and volunteer info:
mailto:michiganfandom-owner@yahoogroups.com?subject=BookDrive
v I've had a bit
of trouble getting a coherent convention report from the Thin Man after he got
back from Penguicon last week. He just
keeps wandering about singing, "the wheels on the bus go 'round and
'round, 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round..." Putting him on Greyhound™ may have been a bit much for our
favorite agoraphobic but, when cornered, he can fight and hiss with the best of
them so I expect him to come around.
While he was away, Issue 22 of Abyss&Apex
went to press and now I can point you over that way to read even more of the
Thin Man's ramblings while we wait for him to say something that makes
sense. The convention seems to have
gone well and he sold out of books. As
always, thank you to all the wonderful people who coddle him and keep him fueled
and safe when we have to send him out.
It is definitely appreciated.
What? He just wandered by to
impart the following words of wisdom, as near as I can translate them from his
secret pidigin language of southern english, gaelic, and mumble: "I ain't tellin' the leaf story
again. I'm not a childrens'
author. There's girl cooties all over
my genre. If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna
get a sammich and take a nap."
There you have it, if it makes any sense.
v Gracious, it's
been a long time since we updated this circus, mostly because it has been a
circus around here and partially because a certain cat lacks a certain skill in
the arcanum known as 'ftp'. Today the
Thin Man is sulking so it's time to play a bit of feline catch-up. (He got hate mail again. You'd think for a man who prides himself in
his mercenary ruthlessness, he'd be a little less vulnerable to that kind of
thing—especially when it comes from people who misspell curse words and forget
to use punctuation and capitalization.
The dark secret is, we cats think that deep down, he's a big softie.)
Well, let's start with some technical
issues. It seems that, depending on the
various inter-whingee viewing systems, sometimes the links to the documents on
the site don't work. I have found the
problem; the slashes are backwards and some browsers turn them into
"%2f". I have no idea how to
fix it. Until I do, I fear you'll have
to replace the "%2f" or whatever with slashes on your own. Sorry about that.
The Thin Man did indeed go to ConClave
and he did come back grumpy (because he is what he is, after all) and there
were no injuries from the reading of "Troll Snot". He had a good time in spite of the
convention. That is to say, there were
some scheduling and logistical problems (which are disproportionately bad
things on our dear clinically agoraphobic boss) but the people involved in the
convention took such good care of him that the good outweighed the bad. That's not easy to do with him so they must
be really special people.
An evil thing occurred shortly
thereafter. While he was still weary
and dazed from travel, the great and might Editor and good lady wife,
volunteered him to work at the first local Renaissance Festival at the nearby
university—with children again no less.
Somehow, it all worked. He was
told to come back anytime he wanted, then asked to be permanent staff, and last
I heard was being herded onto the Festival's Board of Directors (they promised
he could communicate by email from home instead of come to meetings—he still
won't go out of the house that much).
In October, he hit print again in Ray
Gun Revival with a sci-fi piece called Subject Real. It's on-line in their archives if you wanted
to pop over and have a look (issue #8; let me see if I can stick a link in
here: Link
Thing Yes, well, maybe that
worked. Rumor has it that he'll pop up
in another pro rag in mid-2007 but I'm not allowed to see more until "the
check clears" as the boss so cynically puts it.
The novel S&K has gone into
it's sixth year in print which I think is good news even if Himself insists
it's "old news, cat. What have you
done for me lately, that's the market.
I want a new spine.".
Well, if we can convince him that the
world isn't out to get him and that he will not have to deal with hateful
people harassing him at panels (a hard sell right at the moment but he might
come around) and get him to return to Penguicon again, there should been a new
work on the sales table. Not a book,
exactly, at least, not a full size one, but I've seen the galleys and it's
something between wonderful and hilarious.
We shall see, we shall see. (Did
I mention he's in a bad mood now? Have
I mentioned that he takes it out on poor lovable cuddly chubby me? Would it kill you people to send nice fan
mail?)
Anyhow, that's the news such as it
is. I'll try to add the latest
"Puck and the Professor" tale to the fiction page now but I'm not
making any guarantees.
v Ohhh, we sent
him out again. At least this time gas
is cheaper so maybe he won't come back as grumpy (fat chance of that). The Thin Man will be at ConClave in Romulus,
Michigan October 6th through the 8th.
He's scheduled full and he talks loud so you shouldn't have trouble
finding him if you're looking. This
time he has to do "Troll Snot" to short people (maybe we'll get
casualties) and once again reappears to terrorize the Writer's Workshop.
v Jim Baen died
today. Ain’t much to say.
v The Thin Man
didn’t make it to ConFusion in January (truck problems) but he did go to
Penguicon 4.0 where he did a few panels (including the already near-legendary
“Tea Parties in Science Fiction”), read the “Troll Snot” story to a crowded green
room, and taught in their Writer’s Workshop (which he insists is a solid case
of the pot calling the kettle black).
After over a week on the road, this is what I hear storming through the
door in the middle of the night.
“We’re a nation of whining children, I
tells ya. I drive over two thousand
miles, but am I complaining about gas prices?
NO! Because I understand a free
market. And because I’m an adult. Here, cat, follow this math: two thousand miles at twenty miles to the
gallon is what? A hundred gallons of
gas. Oh no, the oil companies are
making a profit of eight blasted cents per gallon—not that it’s really profit,
but never mind. So, the whole trip
costs me eight bucks more, and for that eight bucks I get gas everywhere I need
it. I don’t call that gouging, I call
it a right fair deal. Especially since
them government thieves are taking way more than eight pennies off me in
tax. So what’s all the news, all the
time, the whole trip? Oh no, how
will mommy government save us from this horrible burden? I swear, cat, no good comes of dealing with
human beings.”
I should hasten to point out that, in
point of fact, the Good Lady Wife and Boss did all the driving; but he’s road
dizzy, completely exhausted, and totally manic, so I just let him go on and
look up adoringly—which, of course, is my job.
“Wonderful convention, as always.
Great people, even for humans.
Go update the website and thank them all. No wait, don’t list them individually because you’ll forget
someone. Wonderful folk, just
wonderful. Good to see everyone again,
never enough time for the good things in life.
Plenty of time for idiots to cut us off on the road and plenty of orange
barrels to mess up traffic but never enough time for what’s important. Nobody died, so we’ll call it a
success. (Destroy us all! Destroy us all!) Oh, it’s good to be home.
I’m going to sleep for a few days and then be sick for a couple after
that. If anyone comes up the hill, just
shoot ‘em and tell ‘em I died.”
At this point, he threw himself at a
chair, missed, and just sat on the floor with a glazed expression. I wasn’t worried about his instructions to
shoot at people because he knows as well as I do that cats can’t aim worth a
plug nickel. About the time I figure
he’s either passed out or lapsed into catatonia, the Thin Man starts jabbing a
finger in my general direction and giving orders.
“Folks might want the book, although
I’ve no idea why. Put the contact info
up near the top of the page. Tell ‘em
to send fan mail and boost my ego while they’re at it; that oughta scare ‘em
off. And put in a plug for Freon
and Mrs.
Attwell. People ought take a
look at their stuff; indies need more support.
Have anybody who still wants to read over the first five chapters of CSW
send me a note too, in case I forget.
Good convention…but I’m still not coming down off the mountain more than
once or twice a year. Too many
humans--way too many humans.”
And with that, he trailed off and fell
asleep in a kind of lumpy triangle until the Good Lady Wife and Boss got him to
bed. (By the way, CSW is his internal
short-hand for Chuin Sartre’s Wall, the sci-fi novel he’s working on, or
should be after he returns to the living.)
Mail to the Thin Man (as well as book orders—yea, that’s likely) can be
sent to mkeaton@archangelpress.net
and we’ll get it to him some time while he’s not flailing around on a
rant. Most likely, I’ve just received
the sum total of the convention report from Penguicon this year.
v So, we are
officially in situ as they say.
As of December 17, 2005 A.D., much chaos shall ensue and the moving
process begins. We'll still get messages,
process orders, and the like but the response time may be a bit slower. Truthfully, the only thing that is known for
certain at this junction, is that nothing is known for certain. There should be no noticeable change but,
well you never know. Be patient and
have faith. And barring horrible
snowstorms or great illness, we'll send the Thin Man back to ConFusion (where
he will read the draft manuscript of "Purple Wings and Troll Snot")
and then up again for Penguicon.
v And now, a
word from our sponsor:
"November is National Adoption
Month and the Missus came to me and asked if, pretty please, I could make the
cat put a link or two on the site. Fact
is, I want more than that. I don't ask
for much, but this is important. Take a
minute and think about your family; not just your parents or children or
siblings, but about your family.
Family. The people who are the
protectors of your heart and the reminders of who you are. It's not about blood; it's about
commitment. Think about them. Take as long as you need and I pray that you
need a lot of time because you have a lot of them. I shall not ask you to think about life without them; you know
what adoption and fostercare mean. But do think about what life without any
concept of family would have been like.
It's not as simple as no parents; it's about not having even the
concept. No pattern to live your life
from. No idea how to have a family of
your own. No context. Not even a flawed, screwed up dysfunctional
mess to use as a yardstick to measure by and try to avoid. Nothing.
Yes, I know it sounds dramatic and emotional but I'm not making a
charity pitch; I want you to make an effort to understand the stark reality
that is.
"Now think about it through the
eyes and the understanding of a child, most likely a child on psychotropic
medicine (most in the system are). And
if you have a sibling, will they split you up?
And, if you find a home, if you get sick or cause trouble will they send
you back? If they have children of
their own, will they still want you? If
you get too old, will you ever get out?
If you outgrow the system, will you figure out a way to live without
family or will you end up homeless on the street? If and if and if on into sleepless nights; a permanent existence
of if. Nothing solid, no bottom,
ever. For a moment, see it.
"I hope that you can't; that the
concept is so foreign that you just flat cannot wrap your mind around it. I can't.
I'm not a terribly empathetic person.
But what fraction of it I can glimpse scares the daylights out of
me. And I know for a fact that some of
you, some of my very treasured and dedicated readers can, because you lived
it. You people blow me away. The things you have overcome and the things
you have built and done with your lives leave me amazed at your strength. The same goes for the people who do adopt or
foster successfully, the people who somehow transcend the mob of humanity and
decide that the soul is more important than the sperm, that family is a bond of
spirit rather than mere blood—the people who take on parenting as a full
contact, lifetime commitment and make it happen because it needs to happen.
"Sappy? Maybe. Cruel? I damn well hope so. I'm not going to say give money or donate
your time or any of that clichéd pap.
No, I'm greedy. What I want is
for you to follow the links and look at the faces. Go and look at the faces of the waiting children. I'll wait.
Welcome to the Michigan
Adoption Resource Exchange!
Adoption
Month - National Adoption Awareness Month
"Now go say thank you. You know to whom and you know why. Make a call, write a note, say a prayer,
wherever, whoever, however. As for the
faces, do what you need to do."
v Okay, I don't
think the Thin Man is going to get around to last years convention report
before this years convention. He's like
that. On the other hand, he and the
Boss actually had company over. Sure,
we had to drug him up some before they arrived but it went well. There were other people in the house and he
wasn't miserable (might even have enjoyed it).
Who were these wonderful people (and they were wonderful and quite
generous with table scraps for a poor miserable starving beggar)? I'm not sure they would be flattered by
public association with the likes of us but I can say, they were people that,
if you knew them, you would be jealous of their time here and, if you didn't
know them, you would wish that you did.
v Yes, yes, we
know that there is still no real Penguicon report up (and it really was a good
convention) but things around here are running at a breakneck pace as we
prepare for the move. And no, we still
don’t know to where yet. The millwheels
have begun to grind towards ambitious things and we’re not yet allowed to let
the, erm, ‘cat out of the bag.’
However, it is with great delight that we announce two matters that may
bring increased joy to your lives.
First off, the new Mewses list should be activated any day now so if you
wanted to be part of the insanity and don’t get a welcome message, shoot us an
email. (We always forget and leave
someone off.) Even better, (drumroll….)
The
Discourses with Puck are going up
onto the website! For those who haven’t
read any of these rambles, you’re in for a treat. It took some convincing to get the Thin Man to let us put them up
“for free” but they’re worth the fight.
The work that started it all “Lord
of the Puddle” is on the site now and the next discourses will come
up as they get formatted. Seriously, if
you haven’t read one, it’s worth the time.
Let us know if you enjoy the first one so that we have more leverage to
get the Thin Man to pry his fingers loose from the others.
v Ha! We sent the Thin Man back to school. Okay, technically we sent him to talk to a
classroom of bairns. For a man who
“officially” hates children, he seemed fairly happy about it.
“Hello to Ms. Wemyss’ second grade class, one of the best
audiences I have ever had. Thank you so
much for your kind indulgence and for listening patiently to my disconcerted
ramblings. (Yes, I know, too many big
words. I’ll wait a bit while you look
them up in the dictionary.) It was a
true pleasure to come and visit. I know
that some of you wanted to stay in touch, have me look over some stories, and
generally help you on the long road toward writing. Well don’t be shy about it, go ahead and zip me a note, I’d be
flattered to help. I hope you all have
a good summer break and thank your teacher for having me in. (And don’t end a sentence in a preposition
or start one with a conjunction.)
Thanks again and good fortune in your studies.” [MK, May 16, 2005]
v Big letters
now: New website with short and easy
to remember address. ArchangelPress.net!
v This old site
is shutting down soon and we’re already up and running at the new site. You can even yell straight at the Thin
Man. He’s got his own e-mail box
(though I doubt if he’ll read it). You
can order books directly, signed, from the same address: Mkeaton@Archangelpress.net
v The Thin Man
is going to
Penguicon 3.0! They have him
booked for almost wall-to-wall panel work all weekend so things look good. That’s right: he went last year and they want him back, louder and longer. April 22-24 in Novi, Michigan, come watch
the trainwreck and check out the convention’s website for the rest of their
guests and programs (http://penguicon.org/).
v [MK, April 13,
2005]:
“Damn sad day in a long string of damn sad days. I lost my Uncle. Actually, I know exactly where he is but he’s lost to me. No more stories told, no more questions answered, no more advice and comfort. Mourning is a selfish act of the living, perhaps the only selfish act without shame. My Uncle, he was a helluva man—helped build the Alaskan pipeline, fought in Korea, adopted and raised two children (lived long enough to bury one—a tragedy no father should ever have to endure). We grew up sharing property, living within hollering distance, close family. Most painful part is, he wasn’t just my Uncle. He was my Dad’s brother. Either you understand that or you don’t but trust me, it means something. In transience, meaning but right now I’m just damn tired of digging graves. Never expected the News to become a rolling obituary. Welcome to life, it’s a full contact sport. My sympathies, as well, to those who sorrow at Pope John Paul II’s passing.”
v [MK, March 02,
2005]:
“The last week in February, the world was irrevocably
diminished. It is a wound that will not
heal, a pain that will not pass, but we the living go on. It was his desire to pass quietly without
fuss or memoriam but words are all I have for a man who deserved much
more. Lee Kirkpatrick was a great
man. He was a quiet man in this day and
age of flash and hype when too easily the quiet are passed over
unrecognized. A gentle man and devoted
father, he possessed a greater depth of compassion in his smallest finger than
I have in my entire body. He was always
a stalwart fount of support for all of us around him and believed in us even
when we didn’t believe in ourselves. He
fought through horrid weather to bring his family to my first book signing just
to support me. That’s the kind of man
he was, thinking of his friends and family first and himself a distant
second. There is more I could say, more
I probably should say, but it will always be too much and not enough. Without him in the world, I am forever
lessened. He was my friend. That was more than enough.”
v February 24,
2005:
|
Let us pause in life's
pleasures |
|
There's a pale drooping maiden |
|
Refrain: |
-
Stephen C. Foster, 1854
v ConFusion was a
wonderful experience hosted by wonderful people. The Thin Man’s report, in a nutshell, was this: “For three days, I had a place in the world. Instead of being the crazy hermit living at
the edge of town, I was a man in proper context. Then I had to come home and pay the gas bill.” With this, he then went to bed and slept for
a few days straight. For the record,
the two panels he was scheduled for swelled to six (since as we all know, the
man just cannot stay still and has an opinion on everything). I should press him for a more detailed report
but other events have intervened and now is just not the time. There were more great people involved than
there is room to record but I have a list of a few I’m ordered to link to and
recommend. Emma
Bull and Will Shetterly were every bit the amazing people you would
expect them to be and the Thin Man pestered Will mercilessly most of the
weekend. Steven Brust
(rhymes with Boost) was his usual charismatic self. The Fabulous Lorraine and Emma sing with the
voices of angels and their albums are a “must buy” for everyone with a love of
music. Stephanie
Bedwell-Grime deserves special mention as a gracious person, skilled
writer, and patient companion through many panels and a long, lonely book
signing. Anne Harris,
Rebecca Meluch, and Jacqueline Carey all were outstanding people
with which to share panels (especially the Villian’s discussion). Right now, nothing is set in stone but the
Thin Man is looking forward to Penquicon 3.0 the last full weekend in April.
v January 21-23,
2005 at the Troy Marriott Hotel in Troy Michigan, we’re risking the Thin Man
appearing in public again. He’ll be a
panelist at the Sci-Fi/Fantasy convention ConFusion (http://www.stilyagi.org/cons/2005/index.php). Jump over and check out their site to see
all the exciting details and Guests of Honor for the convention. Right now, he’s scheduled for two panels
Saturday morning and will not have a table in the dealer’s area but things can
change. Knowing the Thin Man, he’ll end
up on or at a lot more panels and he’ll find somewhere to sign his book. If you’re in the Detroit area, come down and
see if we can avoid disaster again as the infamous hermit leaves his cave. (And look forward to Penquicon 3.0 in
April.)
v Personal
News: It’s been a hard winter on top of
a hard year here at AAP central. For
those who have wondered where everyone has been, let it suffice to say: it has been a year of sickness coupled with
disappointment. Speakers and Kings
did not win the Mythopoeic and We Shall All Go Down Together did not win
the Hemingway. Both of these are
disappointments because the works were solid contenders and there was a real
belief that at least one of them would win.
Pneumonia and bronchitis are competing with the flu for a body count
around here and it makes it hard to get anything done. The good news is: (1) the Thin Man completed the manuscript for Red Scythian
(historical adventure—if you want to be one of the Mewses for it, shoot us an
e-mail) and (2) we found an incredible illustrator for the children’s book and
she has done some amazing work.
v [MK. June 9,
2004]:
“On a sweltering summer day in 1985, I
stood in the Capitol Rotunda. A coffin
lay in state in the austere silence. It
was a very empty place—one viewer, one honor guard, one wreath—and the
emptiness was filled with ghosts. The
eulogy had been given; the mourners—family, friends, and fellow service
men—were gone. The body remained,
patient in the lonely stillness of the chamber.
In that long, silent vigil, after the
formalities, I was the second to come to pay personal respects. One other man had come before me,
unhearalded and genuinely grieved. He
had a meeting in California at a time that other men would call ‘first thing in
the morning’ and would be gone for several days. So, he had come, in the painful, early hours when night fought to
become morning, to honor a soldier he had never met. It is in moments such as these that the measure of a man is truly
taken.
He came, not because he had to or for
any personal gain. He came because it
was right. Because he was the fallen
soldier’s commander. Because, no matter
how high he rose in the eyes of men, President Ronald Regan believed himself to
be a servant, not a master; a trustee of a grand legacy.
Today, it is the President himself who
lies in the Rotunda, surrounded with the love and gratitude that he himself
gave to every fallen, forgotten soldier; to every American citizen; to every
sovergien Divinely crafted human being.
He was a distant friend, a personal hero, and, in the best possible
sense of the phrase, a good and faithful servant. He was my Alexander.
Good night, my King. Rest in peace.”
v AAPress has
put out a call for young illustrators in the Michigan area. If you know a youngster who might be
interested, have them speak to the Art Director of their local school or have
them e-mail us directly.
v Penquicon
2.0: Yes! We finally drove the Thin Man out of hiding and back to a
convention. He did not want to go and
he did not go gracefully but he did go and now he is glad he did. (As if we would give him bad advice.) His thoughts? Read them here first:
“There is a myth that when you dream of falling, if you
land, you will die. Those of us raised
on comic books and pulp adventure know better.
We land in a three-point stance, arm out for balance, the fingers of our
free hand spread wide, ready to leap to the attack. The pavement cracks beneath our feet and ripples outward from our
impact. And we dream in the daytime.
After a few years of health-imposed
withdrawal, it was nice to walk among my own again. They aren’t always pretty, but nine of ten, their heart is large
and their spirit, great. Without
realizing it, I missed them.
Yes, I went to Penguicon and I enjoyed
it. That’s my wife’s fault. She made all the arrangements and all the
preparations. She designed my backdrop,
packed the boxes, and kicked me in the butt until I got in the car. All of this in spite of my open opposition
to the idea and a black, vile torrent and pessimism. I’m a stubborn man too.
For the first day and a half of the convention she had to endure my
sullenness before I finally decided that sunlight and the dreaded OUT
was not going to kill me. But I married
for stubborn and mean, and my beloved Cheryl delivered. She refused to give in and I had a good time
in spite of myself. (She even
“monkeyed” my booth and tended to my capricious whims despite the fact she’d
have rather been home). I am a petty
little man; I was wrong, she was right, and I appreciate it (even though I will
still drag my feet and whine like a spoiled child next time she wants me to go OUT
again).
I did get to meet Neil Gaiman
(although it was definitely a busy kind of ‘ships in the night’ passage) and
he’s the gentle, appreciative, humble man you would assume him to be. (I hope he finds time to read S&K
and enjoys it; but right now, he is one busy git.)
I spent the overwhelming majority of
my time chained behind my table, signing, selling, and talking—mostly
talking.
I had the incredible good fortune to
be assigned a table alongside Jane Irwin and Paul Sizer. For those who don’t know, they are both graphic
artists. Jane does Vogelein:
Clockwork Faerie and Paul does Little White Mouse. (Hey, dumb cat, put links to their websites
here so people can go buy their stuff!)
[Fine: Vogelein: Clockwork Faerie and Little White Mouse. Happy now, boss?]
When the Con started, I was not a
happy camper. I didn’t want to be out
(hermit by nature, after all) and I had a splitting headache. Not an oh, my head hurts ache but an
if someone lost their ax, it’s planted in my skull kind of ache. A handful of aspirin reduced that down to an
ice pick through the back of my right eye, but I was not exactly a fount of
positive energy.
Jane Irwin was. She swept in like an hurricane and filled up
her space and mine with an electric enthusiasm that was more contagious than
SARS and much healthier. Combine savvy
professionalism with the energy of a wee bairn and you have some idea of the
experience which is Jane. I think her
personal mantra is “See Jane Run” and my favorite line of the weekend was, “Of
course I’m going somewhere. The
question is, do I have somewhere to go?”
I could say a lot more nice things
about Jane but I’d rather use the space to talk about her work. It’s very good and you know that I don’t say
things like that lightly. V:CF
is in black and white. It is painted
in black and white! Artistically,
visually, it is a masterwork, and that’s not even taking into account the story
itself which is so sweet that it makes my throat tighten, but so real that I
don’t get a sugar rush. Thematically,
she’s solidly in Neil’s sandbox and running parallel to my own I, Oberon
project. Jane is telling faerie tales
literally and metaphorically and she does the fey no injustice. I can also vouch for the fact that she puts
reams of research into her work and it shows.
How impressed was I? I went to
my rep at B&N and told them to put it on the shelf.
I can’t talk so much about Paul’s work
because I was so fascinated by Paul Sizer the man that I forgot to take the
time to really look at his stuff. While
Jane was off running from panel to panel, Paul was gracious enough to talk with
me about life. This was a terribly
flattering thing for me because Paul is the kind of man that I would be proud
to have as a friend.
I make fast judgments about people and I’m rarely
wrong. It’s not that I’m any stellar
judge of character, but rather that as part of my job as an author, I’ve
devoted years to studying human beings and reading the signals they give
me. I watched how gracious and patient
Paul was talking with fans and parents.
I watched the way he interacted with the Con staff. I watched him interact with Jane and my wife
(who prefers that I do not mention her name on the website). Most of all, I watched his face light up
with joy and passion as he talked about his work with children and as we
discussed education. If you ever have
the chance to talk with Paul, don’t fall into the trap of just discussing
comics and art—talk to the man about life.
Don’t waste the opportunity to speak with a member of a dying breed in
this day and age—a noble man. Although
it may embarrass him for me to say it, Paul cares so much for the people around
him, friend or stranger, that it doesn’t even occur to him to be selfish. Should you buy his work? Absolutely.
It’s solid and enjoyable. More
importantly, if you can afford it, you should never turn down an opportunity to
support a man dedicated to giving so much of himself to his community.
Tell your local bookstore that you
want to see Jane’s Vogelien and Paul’s LWM on their shelves and
instruct your local library that they absolutely must have the two of them come
in and give a presentation for the children.
There will be no regrets on either front.
So, how was the convention? I
have no clue. My readers were
wonderfully supportive and, as always, their devotion and praise humbles
me. It saddens me that I can’t be among
them more often. Jane and Paul (now
officially one entity, congratulations to both) were magnificent. Neil was gracious (and a bit daft from
exhaustion by the end). The staff were
excellent and well beyond average in attitude.
Most importantly, everyone I came in contact with was gentle and kind
(geeks have big hearts). The experience
was good enough that I am seriously considering ConClave in the fall. From a man who pretty much hates all of
humanity, I guess that’s praise enough.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to
practice my whistle.
—MKeaton—”
v M. Keaton is
now listed on SciFan.com. This is a pretty handy site for fans of
Science Fiction literature.
v Never
Forget. National Military Appreciation
Month: May 2005
v As always, we can be reached at Archangel
Press, Remote Office.
