Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofgesse (catfinition) – abundance of spirit in a cat; a cat’s generosity and liberal giving.
In use: “The cat’s floofgesse led her to bring presents to his person every day. Gifts included leaves, flowers, towels from the neighbor’s clothes line, and found treasure such as rubber bands and pieces of string”
Don’t you love it when you go into a book store, especially a used book store, for a specific book, and go right to the location and find it on the shelf within seconds of beginning to look?
Sweet feeling. Today’s target was The Darwin Elevator by Jason Bough. A friend recommended it as a fast, enjoyable read.
Fun fact! Did you know that the expression, “That old chestnut,” originated with with Henry Chestnut? Henry was a pharmacist who liked telling comical tales about the way things were in his grandparents’ era, often exaggerating facts to absurd lengths. People in his town often passed on his stories, and the response on hearing them was often, “That old Chestnut,” usually with laughter. Eventually, Henry’s stories were published in a weekly column called, “That old Chestnut.”
The things you can learn on the Intertubes, right?
Do you ever seem to wait literally forever (right, no hyperbole or exaggeration here) for something like pizza or an ATM delivering your cash, so you begin a drum roll, because it seems apropos?
No? Is it just me, then? Are you implying that I’m impatient?
Floof-eyes (catfinition) – Internet slang for a cat’s loving, enticing look, often accompanied with purring, and sometimes with kneading, or “making biscuits”.
In use: “She was on the edge of running late when her big Norwegian jumped onto the table in front of her and fixed his green floof-eyes on her. With a sigh, she began scratching his chin, accepting, she was going to be late. At least she had a good excuse, damn his floof-eyes.”
This one came to me in the bathroom this morning.
In there to do the morning toilet, I sniffed my pits (I don’t know why, nor why I write it), and said, “Damn, I’m a dirty white boy.” Click. My mind began streaming Foreigner’s “Dirty White Boy” from 1979.
As a felicitous coincidence, the local rock station played the song on the radio as I drove downtown. I thought, “That seals it! The song was predestined to be my theme music today.” Because, you know, coincidences are always omens.
I finished another chapter. Serving like a flare in the night, it lit more of the final stages of the novel, Good-bye, Hello, and the Incomplete States series. Seeing those pieces, I re-arranged one chapter and wrote the beginning of another. As I wrote that, the segue off a previous chapter appeared. This was the opening to the final final piece. I laughed at the phrase even while I juggled pieces in my mind and saw it all come together with the ending already written. A chill thrilled me as I read the pieces. So satisfying and fun, visiting this world and these peoples, and all their myths, technology, travels, and adventures. They move into this last phase with hope, but I write with bittersweet inevitability.
It’s been a fun journey with these concepts, and narrowing the focus of the concepts into a tighter and tighter frame. Once again, revelations and realizations surprised me. These mostly involved Kything, Kything, who began as Professor Kything, named in honor of the term from A Wrinkle In Time. Kything was not who they thought.
Kything was not who I thought.
There’s more of him still to be revealed to me. The revelations and patterns remind me of a difficult Sudoku. After wrestling with logic and patterns, hunting for the final solution, a key square was just completed. With it came the insights to finish the puzzle.
Even as I think that it was a wonderful day of writing like crazy, I’m beginning to grow sad, because I see this marvelous journey coming to an end. Yes, a lot of writing remains, and then the the editing and revising marathon begins, but those are different skills, with a separate satisfaction to them, than the unbridled creative flow of raw writing.
I feel a quiet chuckle as I realize, this feeling I have is just like how I feel when I’m finishing reading a good book.
Damn, I have the same attitude.
Michael Seidel, writer 