Dammit, We Thought of It First

Dr. Doyle's Blog

President Trump, in his infinite fatuity, has decided to call for a United States Space Force.

This peeves me no end. We came up with the idea of a Space Force years ago, in our novel The Price of the Stars, and now people reading our books are going to think we’re echoing That Man in the White House.

Of course, the difference between our Space Force and Trump’s is that ours is science fiction — if not outright fantasy — and Trump wants his to become fact. Or, at least purports to want it to become fact. But I could be wrong. Maybe he just wants a Hugo award.

(Good luck with that. Science fiction fans have already demonstrated that they have more sense than to buy that sort of nonsense.)

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Baby Needs a Pair of New Shoes

Dr. Doyle's Blog

Or, to be more specific, a new porch. Because the hardships and foul weather of this past winter caused the porch and steps of our house to transition from merely dilapidated to actively collapsing, and Steps (see what I did there?) Had To Be Taken.

So carpenters came and carpenters went, removing the old porch and the old concrete and granite steps
Porch Day 2

and putting in new wooden steps with handrails, which the old steps sadly lacked, and mending the gaps in the clapboard which the collapsing porch had left in its wake.
Finished Porch Smaller

Carpenters, like writers and freelance editors, are self-employed and need to be paid, and so they were. Which means it’s time for me to discreetly point to the Editorial and Critique Services link up above, which gives the good word about what I do and what I charge for it. You can also find an informal FAQ page…

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With Regard to the Recent Email to Nominees for the Hugo Awards

What Doyle was doing when she wore the Snoopy hair-bobble was going to the post office to mail a manuscript (remember those days?). And if I ever get a Hugo nomination what I’ll wear is full kilts.

Dr. Doyle's Blog

Science Fiction’s Hugos would not be what they are without accompanying periodic outbursts of controversy. This year’s topic is the email sent out to nominees for the award, “encouraging” them to dress professionally for the awards ceremony. The backlash from the sf/fantasy community was, shall we say, vociferous and overwhelmingly negative.†

As well it should be. To quote my elder daughter, on an occasion some time ago when I was fretting about the advisability of going out in public with my hair pulled back using a kid’s Snoopy-the-Flying-Ace hair tie:

“Don’t worry, Mamma. You’re a science fiction writer. You can wear anything.”


File 770 has a summary here — scroll down to item 8 in the entry.

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Mentalism

via Mentalism

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Forward to the Past

If you’re looking for me this weekend, I’ll be at the Vermont Ren Faire in Stowe.

In addition to doing walk-around magic, I’ve got four performances scheduled, two per day (at 10:30 am and 1:00 pm), on the Merchant’s Stage.

If you see me, say “Amaze me!” and I will do my level best.

 

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For Lo, the Winter is Past

Dr. Doyle's Blog

And of course, everything is blooming, and the landscape is full of road repair personnel.

This particular winter, which showed up early around here and then overstayed its welcome, and which included a three-week subzero deep freeze, was particularly hard on the local infrastructure. Which is to say, the north country is full of potholed roads and busted-up plumbing; also, porch roofs that were previously merely dilapidated emerged from the snow-time as disaster areas requiring demolition and replacement.

Fortunately, my new desktop computer system is now up and running (16G of RAM! Zoom-swoosh!), and my editor-hat has acquired a spiffy new plume: I’m now a paid-up member of the Editorial Freelancers Association.

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Where I’ll Be Tomorrow

I’ll be at the Granite State Magicians’ benefit performance for the Merrimack (NH) CrimeLine.

 

Come out on Saturday, April 14th from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. to support the Merrimack Police K9 Program. Meet Dallas, Merrimack’s new K-9 officer and watch a demonstration at noon!

The Magic Show will be held at the American Legion Post 98 on Baboosic Lake Road.

$5 per person / $2.50 under 12 / $15 family max

Enter to win one of the many raffle prizes!

Hot Dogs, popcorn and soda for sale during the day!

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When First I Came to Town; or, Some Families are Like That

Dr. Doyle's Blog

One of my favorite folk songs is “Katy Cruel,” a cheerful ditty from the point of view of a young lady who has run completely out of [bleeps] to give:

Our Ms. Cruel comes from a distinguished (or maybe the right word is “notorious”) folkloric lineage.

There’s the Cruel Mother:

And the Cruel Father:

(Sorry, no video link here, just audio on the web page.  But he’s cruel, believe me.)

The Cruel Sister:

And the Cruel Brother:

Hell, if I had a family like that, I’d leave town and take to drink, too.

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Marching in Lancaster

Dr. Doyle's Blog

A couple of scenes from the Lancaster NH March For Our Lives (let it be noted that Lancaster, while the county seat for Coös County, only has a population of 3,507):

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“More Bears, Less Arms’

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“What Can You Hunt With an AR-15?”

Be it noted: I’m not against guns. Hell, I’m from Texas; my Daddy owned guns. And I live in a part of New Hampshire where the question “Got your deer yet?” isn’t an invitation to an act of performative masculinity, it’s a serious inquiry into the state of somebody’s winter larder. Fifty or sixty pounds of venison in the freezer is a not-inconsiderable number of meals you don’t have to pay for at the local grocery. If you want to shoot a deer with a proper deer rifle during the proper hunting season while in the possession of a proper hunting license, I’m right there with you, and…

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A Sonnet

While streaking in my rocket ship through space,
Galactic empires seeking to destroy,
Subsonic signals hailed me with “Ahoy!
O spaceman launched from secret lunar base!
Turn back your craft at once!”  Sour was my face.
Switched off the signal; turned then to deploy
My proton missiles. With those I’d annoy
The surreptitious foes who’d marked my place.
When of a sudden, standing at my side,
A bearded wizard with a staff of flame
First tripped me, then, whilst stroking his goatee,
Gazed downward, as he called me by my name.
Quoth he, “Soft! Stay thy vaunted techno-pride:
This is not Sci-fi but a Fantasy.”

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