More catching up, slowly

So. Steve (the greenbottle fly, if you remember him) continues to persist. I think he’s even gotten most of the coffee off of his body.

Brief update, mostly for a couple of links. WoW friends will appreciate this, courtesy wired_blogs: “From MMO to CEO”, a rather belated article covering the transfer of leadership skills learned in online game guilds to the workplace. When I presented “Warrior Queens of the Cyberworld” at Immersive Worlds last year, one of the questions from the audience had to do with precisely this — whether workplaces are beginning to recognize the immense leadership skills necessary in managing massive online guilds. It looks like they are. Future resumes will list typing WPM, educational training — and how many wipes it took your team to take down Onyxia.

My last contribution to Inside Job at the Escapist went in last night. I think it’s a good one. It’s been a very interesting ride. Perhaps more thoughts on this on Friday, if I’m not dead (I think I may be picking up [info]jsridler‘s cold).

Between Settlers, other writing commitments, work, and visa-related real life garbage, I managed to get into a serious crunch for about the past month, a side effect of which was aggravating the mild RSI in my left neck/shoulder. Saw a massage therapist for it on Tuesday, and am in for apparently multiple more such sessions, but after a couple of days of soreness I’m finally feeling a bit looser. I hadn’t even realized how much mobility I’d lost in my neck. The therapist asked if I had trouble driving, with turning my head, and I said no, I didn’t think so — but my neck now turns significantly easier and farther than it did on Tuesday. Yikes. I think I am too young for this shit still.

[info]cristalia has posted eloquently on writing business and why stories like Michael Cisco’s should be shared. Obviously, I tend to agree. This was actually the main reason I came over here to post in a timely manner, in case I’m reaching anyone who hasn’t already read Cisco’s account with Prime Books. I, too, have heard a similar experience with some of the folk there, and have been trepidatious as a result.

It’s a complex thing. There is so much fear, in writing and in the games industry, of taking action that may threaten one’s career. The thing is, and this applies equally to both, when you really get down to it, there are enough GOOD people working in both businesses that it is never worthwhile to hide or sabotage yourself in order to avoid offending a lousy employer. It is the Sanders thing in a new iteration, though certainly less clear cut. But the principle remains the same. Anyone telling you to shut up just for the sake of shutting up probably has a less-than-noble motive for doing so. Keeping lousy treatment (or, in [info]yhlee‘s case, truly egregious coffin-nailing wackjobbery) silent because speaking up Just Isn’t Done is a great way to perpetuate said lousy treatment. Kudos to Cisco for taking the uncomfortable step and sharing his experience, here’s hoping that the full truth comes out. And for those who truly wonder whether speaking up can jeopardize a career, I can tell you that all it does is cut you off from people you really shouldn’t be working for in the first place. I actually find it a rather excellent sorting mechanism.

We are all worth more than this.

Mortality, and catching up, almost

Settlers is done. Not yet submitted, but done. The excitement begins.

I have been largely underground and thus was remiss in not mentioning a couple of things, though those of you that read the other Homeless Moon journals already saw this.

The folk at The Homeless Moon and I — that would be [info]jsridler, [info]scott_h_andrews, [info]boonofdoom, and [info]justinhowe — decided last year to put together a chapbook of our work. Most of them are being much more clever in their descriptions of this undertaking, but it’s 2:30am and I want to go to sleep. So I’ll just say that some of the initial proposal for the chapbook was to show what we could do to the big ol’ world, but mainly we just wanted to put together some stories and appear in the same publication, something that, barring blackmail or other unsavory tactics, was not likely to happen fast enough for our chum-like impatience.

John Klima very kindly blogged about the chapbook on the newly-revealed Tor.com — looks like a snazzy site indeed, breaking many a mold for previous expectations of online speculative fiction fare.

Anyway, re the belatedly mentioned chapbook, I’m honored to be sharing page-space with these stories, and you can, as the site page says, download an electronic copy of the chapbook for free if you weren’t lucky enough to snatch a copy at ReaderCon.

Speaking of which, I was not there. I neglected to mention that here, and in particular I owe an apology to [info]elenuial, whom I conned into applying for Odyssey and should just now be recovering from the shell-shock of the six week experience. I’d intended to go to ReaderCon and harass various folk — [info]lesser_celery, [info]cristalia, [info]time_shark… I shouldn’t have started to name names, there are many more. But. 2am. Visa issues and Canadian Immigrations put the abrupt kibosh on this plan, causing [info]jsridler and I to forfeit our already-paid-for Pricelined hotel, and more irritatingly to miss the con and the opportunity to see rarely-seen folk and hang out with the HM guys for a few days. We are also not at TNEO due to the chaos of preparing to move out west. Next year, however, all of this will be corrected. I understand ReaderCon was pretty cool, as always, and congratulations to those who pulled Rhyslings or one of the new shiny Shirley Jackson awards.

More updates when I have had sleep. A parrot update is long overdue, with photos of Smeagol’s semi-new cage. Vasya is in her annual summer super-molt, but recently began voluntarily taking baths, almost, and has polished up her beak. I wonder who she’s trying to impress.

A particular greenbottle fly has been buzzing around here for the past three days, being generally annoying and doing its fly thing, bouncing off monitors, chasing food, etc. About an hour ago I heard a persistent buzzing; it had kamikazed itself into my coffee cup from this morning and was in the process of noisily drowning. A-ha, I thought; nature at work. The stupid irritating buzzing will be no more.

Then in about two seconds I sighed and realized I was not in fact going to let it come to a messy end in stale coffee and non-dairy creamer. So, without much help from the fly itself, I fished it out on a second attempt with the end of my pen.

It has been fastidiously drying its wings, perched on a copy of Julian Dibbell’s Play Money, for the last hour. I have named it Steve.