Archive for the ‘friendship’ Category
Rolling with the Punches…
Folks, before any of you freak out, I’m not talking literal punches, here. (No, the second coming of Muhammad Ali has not haunted my sleep, fortunately.) Just the usual stuff that tends to congregate that you’d rather not do, including minor car issues, a couple of minor medical tests, and the like.
But that got me thinking. (Ooh, a dangerous task, I know…but one I take up with abandon. Or something.)
What are you supposed to do when life throws you a curveball?
Whether it’s minor medical tests or a car problem you’d rather not have (like today’s refusal by my car’s battery to start the car, necessitating a call to AAA), you have to keep as calm as possible and solve the problem as best you can.
I don’t do well with medical tests, personally. I would rather not do any of them. (I freely admit this.) I know it’s better for my health to do them, however, so I do…grumbling all the way. (Hey, it’s not all sweetness and light around Chez Caffrey, hard though I try.)
Fortunately, I have good friends who listen to me and care enough that they’re willing to tell me when I’m being foolish or counterproductive. (Mostly they say this by omission rather than direct observation, but I’m not an idiot; I can tell if they think I’m behaving stupidly, and usually I adjust my behavior accordingly ’cause I don’t want to add to my friends’ burdens.)
To mix metaphors gleefully (the only way to mix metaphors, I can assure you), I think you have to roll with the punches life throws at you. Whether the car doesn’t start (bad battery; bad!), the doctor insists you need a medical test you’d rather not do, or anything else you’d rather not have to deal with, you have to try to remain calm.
But what do you do when you just can’t?
What I do is this: I try to envision the worst-case scenario. What is that, and can I survive it?
Since I’ve survived any number of difficult things in my life (including the deaths of my beloved husband and my best friend), if I think rationally — whether using the worst case scenario frame or not — I know that these problems, vexing though they are, are transitory.
In a week, I won’t think much about ’em. In a month, they’ll be in the rear view mirror so much, they’re barely a pinprick…so it’s all a matter of perspective.
Try to remember that, the next time you have something happen that makes your blood boil. Maybe it’ll help you maintain a cooler head, so you can think your way out of the problem. (Or at least keep your blood pressure down somewhat, which is also a win of sorts.)
Moving, Writing, Editing, and All…
Folks, my move has finally been completed.
The reason this took so long is because the person I used to live with decided to go into an apartment. I helped her move, along with other friends and family members, as well as move whatever of my things that I could, downsizing where need be of course.
As you might expect, writing has been scarce. Mostly I’ve been concerned with moving, a little with CHANGING FACES (about to go in to my publisher), a little with editing, and otherwise with letting my friends and family know that I’m still alive despite all this hard physical work.
I’m partially disabled and walk with a cane, as most of you know. Carrying boxes, even boxes made intentionally light, is not easy for me. Going up and down steps over and over again to try to figure out what needs to be taken to where, what can be donated to do some good elsewhere, and what needs to be scrapped was exhausting.**
So why did I do it, if it was so incredibly difficult? Mostly it’s because to refuse to help would be beneath contempt.
When someone needs my help, I try to help if it’s in my power. (If it’s not, I do what I can to pass them along to someone who can.) I don’t say, “Not my problem” or “You made your bed; lie in it.” I don’t see the point to that ninety-nine point nine percent of the time.
Yeah, there are few people I’d go to this limit for, but there was a reason for it. (I can’t say what it is, but someday, maybe, I’ll be able to do that.) And because I saw that reason, and understood that reason, I figured I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try as hard as I could to improve the situation and get my former housemate into that new apartment as best I could.
Anyway, my hope is that now, life will calm down a little, and I can get back to what I do best — writing, editing, playing music, and enjoying life as best I can.
Some days it’s harder to do all of that than others, but I am going to give it the best shot I can — as that’s what makes the most sense to me.
——–
**On the plus side, I guess I didn’t need a gym membership the last few weeks. (So there is that.)
Friendship Matters
It’s time for an update post, folks. But I wanted to do it a little differently this time, and start out by thanking my friends.
Because friendship matters, you see. People who support you when you’re down, when you’re frustrated, when you’re wondering if anything you do matters, and when nothing seems to be going right are worth their weight in gold.
I am very fortunate to have a number of great friends. They are supportive, encouraging, sometimes inspirational, bracing, funny, kind, and give me a great deal of advice — most of it good, some of it exceptional.
2016 has been a rotten year for me in many respects. Living situation, health, and finances all were not what I wanted them to be. I haven’t been able to help others the way I wanted to, either, which is frustrating as Hell…because I figure if I’m here on this Earth, I should do whatever I can to be part of the solution, not part of the problem.
Yeah, that’s a catchphrase. But it’s also true. I want to do what I can to help other people. Some days I’m better at that than others, but that is always my goal. And this year, I don’t think I’ve met that goal at all.
Anyway, as for the update part of this post: CHANGING FACES is nearly done. (Don’t celebrate yet, but do think good thoughts that I can finish up the few remaining bits, will you?) I’m happy about that, and happy with the progress I’ve made on it.
As for an estimated time of arrival? If I can do what I need to do this week, I might have a shot at it coming out in mid-December of 2016 — this according to my publisher. All of it depends on me finishing this book ASAP and getting it to my long-suffering editor to read over as well as whatever first readers I can finagle or bribe find who can read my novel in a hurry and give me some sort of honest reaction.
Writing this year has been a struggle because so many other things around me that were completely out of my control went wrong. But if I can finish CHANGING FACES well, that matters to me…and I hope it matters to you as well.
Stay safe this week, folks, and do vote, regardless of whomever you’re voting for. (I voted early, so I’m done with that mess.) Voting is important, even in a year like 2016 where we’ve seen more mud and vitriol and nonsense than perhaps ever before — I say “perhaps” because 1876 was a pretty bad year in that regard, too.
More updates as I have ’em, and more blog subjects this week await. (As always.)
Have an excellent week!
Today Is My Sixth Blog-i-versary…
Folks, I didn’t want this day to go by without commenting, ’cause today is my sixth blog-i-versary — or sixth year since starting my blog on 7/10/2010.
How time flies when you’re having fun, hm?
I started my blog partly because I wanted people to know that I’m out here — that I exist, that I write, that I comment, that I edit, and that I was doing my best to affect the outcome in those areas.
Along the way, I’ve managed to do a few important things. So, in no particular order, here they are:
First, I regained the full use of my hands due to several rounds of occupational therapy, and started playing in concert bands again as a saxophonist and clarinetist.
Second, I rejoined the Racine Concert Band in 2012.
Third, I finally saw the publication of the Elfy duology as AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE (2014) and A LITTLE ELFY IN BIG TROUBLE (2015).
Fourth, CHANGING FACES nears completion and will be out hopefully by the end of the summer.
Fifth, I’ve made new friends, encouraged old ones, and have managed to get several of Michael’s stories back out and available (including “Columba and the Cat” and the two Joey Maverick stories, “A Dark and Stormy Night” and “On Westmount Station”)…plus, I wrote a story around a 2,000 word fragment of my husband’s that I called “To Survive the Maelstrom.”
(BTW, that fifth one is something you should keep an eye on, as I’m going to have a promotion later this week about it. In honor of my sixth blog-i-versary, “To Survive the Maelstrom” will be free on Amazon for five days, from July 14 to July 18, 2016.)
I’ve also edited many books, have joined Marketing for Romance Writers, Exquisite Quills, and ASMSG, have met many interesting people in and out of the book world…and have sustained some lasting losses, too, including the death of my best friend Jeff Wilson in 2011.
The song that comes to mind, right now, is Genesis’s “Home by the Sea.” Some of the lyrics speak to me at times like this, such as “images of sorrow, pictures of delight. Things that go to make up a life…”
That’s where I am, on my sixth blog-i-versary.
Thanks for sharing the ride, and do stay tuned…you never know what might happen here at the Elfyverse. (Could “Trouble with Elfs” be on the way as an e-book? One can only hope…)
Friendship, and the SF Controversy “du jour”
Folks, I continue to be consumed by my edit for A LITTLE ELFY IN BIG TROUBLE, which is the main reason I haven’t been online to blog in the past week-plus.
But there are other reasons.
One of them caused me to ponder what the meaning of the word “friendship” is all about. For when someone knows you for a long time, there is a presumption that if there’s a disagreement — regardless of what the disagreement is about — the other person will listen to you.
He or she may not agree with what you’ve said. But the other person will at least listen, and try to understand.
During this past week, I’ve seen more distress coming out of the community of science fiction and fantasy writers than I’ve ever seen before. I can’t really summarize this for people who don’t understand it, and it seems like “inside baseball” unless you’ve been caught in the crosshairs of this particular bit of internecine strife.
But the upshot of it is this: Writers are fighting other writers, mostly using words — something writers are very good at using, by definition. And rather than trying to find any common ground with one another, writers are continuing to duke it out with our words instead.
How does this have anything to do with friendship, you ask?
It’s simple. I have a friend, Jason Cordova, who got nominated for one of the most prestigious awards in SF&F — the John W. Campbell Award. He got nominated due to the auspices of a group that many other long-term SF&F writers do not like (this group being called the “Sad Puppies”). Jason was not the only writer to be nominated by the “Sad Puppies,” mind you, but he’s the one I know the best.
He is my friend. (You may have gathered this, yes?)
So when some long-term writers started saying that all the people who’d been nominated by the “Sad Puppies” were racists, or homophobic bigots, or the like, I protested. (Anyone who regularly reads my blog knows that I am not shy about such things.)
Jason is Hispanic. He has a sister who’s married to another woman. He is far from wealthy. He is an honored and honorable veteran of the military. And he’s written some lovely short stories along with his solo novel, CORRUPTOR, and several co-written novels with Eric S. Brown, most particularly KAIJU APOCALYPSE and MURDER WORLD.
I don’t think Jason in a million years thought that he’d ever be considered for the John W. Campbell Award, whether the “Sad Puppies” nominated him or not. But he was.
And, being a friend, I congratulated him. And then defended him, even though he probably did not need my defense, because that is what friends do.
To make things a bit more complex, one of the people who was upset was also my friend. This person saw my defense and became irate.
Instead of asking me what I was about, this person walked away. At this point, I don’t know if this person will ever return, either.
Now, there’s a whole lot I’m leaving out, partly by design. (As I said, it’s “inside baseball” for those who aren’t following it — lucky you.)
But the important thing is this: If you are my friend, I know we’re not always going to agree on everything.
(How boring would the world be if we did? But I digress.)
What I would hope we’d agree on is the fact that our friendship deserves at least a little care. A little understanding. A little bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, common ground can be re-established.
I don’t know how many times I’ve gotten upset with my friends, including Jason at times. I’m sure he’s gotten upset with me, too. We don’t agree in our political philosophy, we don’t always agree on other issues…but we are friends, and we work things out — sometimes by agreeing to disagree, sometimes by trying to meet each other halfway.
This is what friends do.
I wish that the SF&F community could try to do that now. Because SF&F writers have far more in common with each other than we do with anyone else…and it’s sad that instead of using our immense energy and creativity to create new worlds with, we’re instead savaging each other.
And as for my other friend? I will care about this person until the day I die. I owe this person a great deal, and I haven’t forgotten this.
But like Lillian Hellman, I will not cut my conscience to fit this year’s fashions.
******
Note: I thought long and hard before writing this. I am willing to discuss the issues of friendship and whether or not SF&F writers can somehow try to find common ground with one another again. Anything else will probably raise my blood pressure unduly; besides, there are many other places discussing these issues in far greater depth than I am.
I’ve taken a general course mostly because I wanted those who are just finding out about this issue to understand just how messy this nonsense is. I’ve already lost one friend over this because I chose to defend another friend I felt was being unjustly attacked.
I neither like nor dislike the “Sad Puppies.” I do respect many of them, most particularly Brad Torgersen and Amanda S. Green. (Before anyone asks, we’re not going to discuss the merits of the “Rabid Puppies” group right now. Or the lack thereof.) I feel they have a right to be heard, and under the rules, they did nothing objectionable. But to some, me saying that is like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
And I neither like nor dislike the vast majority of writers on the other side of this mess.
One thing I do know, though: No one should be threatening anyone else over this. Ever.
Anyway, the floor is open. I welcome comments, providing they are civil. Any that aren’t will be deleted. (You have been warned.)
Just Reviewed Katharine Eliska Kimbriel’s “Night Calls” at SBR
Folks, today’s review of Katharine Eliska Kimbriel’s NIGHT CALLS is up over at Shiny Book Review (SBR for short) and it’s something special.
You might be wondering why that is. Well, today is the ninth anniversary of my beloved husband Michael’s death. It’s not easy for me to do much of anything on days like this, so if I feel strong enough and competent enough and capable enough to review a book, right there — in and of itself — you should realize I feel very strongly about it.
But more to the point, NIGHT CALLS is a heartwarming book that should delight all lovers of fantasy. It features a strong, capable young woman in Alfreda Sorensson who’s no one’s plaything; unlike the meek and mild female characters in Stephanie Meyer’s conception, Alfreda does for herself, thank you. And in taking on responsibility slowly, we can see how Alfreda grows and changes and learns . . . all good, all life-affirming, all an excellent message if you need one, but done in such a way that it’s subordinate to the story itself.
To write a novel that’s more than the sum of its parts is very difficult. Now, I’ve reviewed four of Katharine Eliska Kimbriel’s novels, and all four have been able to do this to one degree or another, in two different genres, no less — an outstanding record that I’ve rarely seen out of anyone not named Rosemary Edghill. And best of all, to my mind, is this — NIGHT CALLS is a comfort book in that there’s so much good in it, so much meaning in it, that it’s something that I can see myself turning back to read and re-read many times over the years — just as I’ve done with Rosemary’s TWO OF A KIND and MET BY MOONLIGHT and all her shared work with Mercedes Lackey, not to mention Rosemary’s excellent “Hellflower” series (written as eluki bes shahar) and her three novels in the “Twelve Treasures” series.
That’s the highest praise I can possibly give.
Now, why would I want to write all this on one of the most difficult days of the year? Well, it’s simple. Michael and I both loved to read young adult novels. We found them to be interesting, in the main, because seeing a coming of age story done well is, in and of itself, life-affirming. If you can do it with some humor and heart — as Patricia C. Wrede did in CALLING ON DRAGONS, say, or as Diana Wynne Jones did in her “Chrestomanci series” — so much the better.
And trust me, Ms. Kimbriel did exactly that in NIGHT CALLS.
It was reading books like Ms. Kimbriel’s that inspired me to start writing ELFY in the first place. Which is why I’m very glad to be able to read and review her work, even though until this last year I hadn’t a clue it was available. The good part about that is that I’ve read four of her excellent books this year, and all four of them — the three in her “Chronicles of Nuala” series and NIGHT CALLS — are likely to be on my “best books of 2013” list.
This makes me wonder how many other excellent writers are out there that I don’t yet know about. (“More writers left to explore?” I say. “Whee!”)
And it also gives me some hope that my own writing career is not yet dead, even though my health this year has been terrible and I’ve been slow off the mark to get things done despite all the good will in the world due to that.
Anyway, that’s why I reviewed Ms. Kimbriel’s excellent NIGHT CALLS today. For hope. For inspiration. For the belief that despite bad things happening, good people can still win out.
And I think that if you give Ms. Kimbriel’s work a try, you, too, will be favorably impressed.
Whitney Houston dies at 48
Whitney Houston has died at age 48.
I heard the news tonight on various channels, including MSNBC, CNN, and Fox News, so there is no mistake. Houston is dead, and her beautiful voice and ability to emote while singing has died with her.
From a musical standpoint, there was a great deal to admire about Houston. She had an operatic range, which is rare for singers of popular music (only Mariah Carey among current pop singers has anything close to the range of Houston). She also chose great songs from great songwriters; for example, one of Houston’s best-known songs, “I Will Always Love You,” was originally written and performed by Dolly Parton — herself no slouch as a singer. Yet Houston was able to add something to Parton’s excellent song to the point that if you asked ten people who’d heard each version which one they liked better, seven out of ten would probably say they liked Houston’s version better.
Houston’s death is a great loss for the music community. And even knowing that the Grammy Awards are tomorrow (where music as a whole celebrates music and musicians), and that there will have to be a Houston retrospective, it doesn’t help overmuch because it just doesn’t seem right that someone so vital die at age 48.
As anyone who’s read my blog knows, I resonate strongly to this because my late husband Michael died at age 46, suddenly and without warning. Then my best friend Jeff died last year, suddenly and without warning, after he’d fought off the worst of a terrible bacterial infection and seemed to be on the upswing, at age 47. This is why it really and truly does not seem right to me that someone who still had so much left to give is dead at age 48.
I tend to think a person’s life has to be measured by what he or she did with it; in the case of Houston, I believe she was as successful as she could be, considering the terrible toll drug addiction had exacted from her. She was a gifted performer, a fine singer, and by many accounts was a very kind person whose only real weakness was drugs.
At any rate, Houston’s life is over; she’s done all she could, and now all we have left are the recordings she left behind.
I refuse to say “rest in peace” because the phrase has been so overused that it’s trite. I’d rather say that my heart goes out to Houston’s daughter, Bobbi Kristina, Houston’s ex-husband, Bobby Brown (someone that Houston stayed close to even after she divorced him), her mother Cissy Houston (a gifted singer in her own right), and cousin Dionne Warwick (one of the best singers of the ’60s, ’70s, and early ’80s), along with anyone else who knew Houston or loved her music. May they be comforted by their memories and/or her music; may her spirit find happiness in Eternity. (Amen.)
————
** Note: Whatever else that can be said about my late husband, or my best friend Jeff, know that up until the day of each man’s passing, they learned, changed, grew, and became better people the longer they lived. This is not to say they were saints (saints are boring); they were good men, which is a whole lot tougher thing to be than it seems.
Whitney Houston, according to Rev. Al Sharpton, had beaten most of her demons (this is my best paraphrase from hearing Sharpton on CNN and earlier on MSNBC); CNN has reported that Houston was about to star in her first movie in 15 years. So as far as anyone knows right now, Houston was clean and sober. She was able to act. And she was able to perform again, albeit with a voice that was badly ravaged by drugs — though even had she “stayed clean” throughout her life, the voice tends to break down for many operatic-trained sopranos in their late 40s.
To my mind, Houston’s life was a success. Not because she was such a great singer, but because she kept trying and didn’t give up. In this way — and perhaps only in this way — she was like my husband, or my friend, and that’s the main reason I mourn her passing.
In Praise of Dogs and Cats (Friends, all)
As we’re in the winter doldrums now — caught between two holidays, where everything seems both surreal and pointless — it’s grown harder for me to come up with blog subjects that have some meaning. And thus, might strike a chord with someone else.
But there’s one thing I am always grateful for, and that’s the companionship of my Mom’s three dogs. They’re my friends; they have personalities all their own. Even though they have the typical dog faults — they love food to distraction and will gladly eat themselves sick over and over again, for just one — and they’re not “shining beacons of light,” it’s still a joy to be around them. They enjoy life for what it is: they get fed, they’re warm and out of the cold, they get affection and told they’re loved quite frequently. And they are content.
Lest you think I only feel like this about dogs, think again. Cats, too, are very special creatures. They definitely have personalities, in some ways stronger ones than many dogs. Their reasoning can be easier to follow by human beings — or at least, by me — and while cats can be aloof, if they like you, they let you know it. And they, too, are a joy to be around because they know what’s important: companionship and caring. Anything else just doesn’t register for cats, being profoundly irrelevant to their lives.
I keep thinking what are the most important qualities in a friend, and I think “companionship and caring” about sums it up. This is why pets are so important to many human beings, because it gets harder every day to reach out and keep trying to make a connection with another living soul.
I know that in the strongest human friendships, these same two things — companionship, and caring — are what count the most. Then comes communication — something you don’t need to worry about as much with a cat or dog, as they read nonverbal clues far better than most humans — and shared experiences, among many other things that go into making up a strong friendship with a human being.
Friends are vitally important. In the end, it doesn’t matter so much what kind of friends we have, though it’s much easier for human beings to have a human friend or two as that’s really the best way we have to be fully understood, as a companion animal, no matter how wonderful it might be, cannot reason on a human level. (Nor should it be asked to do so.)
So at this time of year, where it’s cold and dark and dreary over the Northern Hemisphere, do your best to celebrate your friends, near and far. If they’re still alive, tell ’em you appreciate them; if they’re dead, celebrate their lives as best you’re able. And please do remember to pet your cat or dog a few extra times, too. They’ll appreciate it, and it might actually help you out, too.
Barb Caffrey's Blog 