R.I.P. Michael Nesmith

 

Always my favorite. 

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     A girl once went to the fair to hire herself for servant. At last a funny-looking old gentleman engaged her, and took her home to his house. When she got there, he told her that he had something to teach her, for that in his house he had his own names for things.      He said to her, "What will you call me?"    " Master or mister, or whatever you please, sir," says she.      He said, "You must call me master of all masters . And what would you call this?" he said pointing to his bed.      "Bed or couch, or whatever you please, sir."     " No, that's my barnacle . And what do you call these?" said he, pointing to his pantaloons.     "Breeches or trousers, or whatever you please, sir."     "You must call them squibs and crackers . And what would you call her?" he said pointing to the cat.     "Cat or kit, or whatever you please, sir."     "You must call her white-faced simminy . "     &quo
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The Iron Princess

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  The Iron Princess - my first fantasy novel in 16 years - will be available February 28: pre-order on Amazon is available now. It's a story I've worked on, on and off, for almost ten years, and I'm delighted that it's finally going to see print. As I think I've said before, it involves Princess Clyaris - Clea, known to her friends and followers as the Iron Princess (in contrast to her older sister, the Golden Princess) - and her complicated battle against not only otherworld monstrosities, but her own family. Like Queen Elizabeth I, she has to pick her way around the debris of her father's matrimonial chaos while trying to figure out who is responsible for the appearance of these deadly - and rapidly multiplying - creatures, when it may in fact be Dear Old Dad... or somebody who's using him as a pawn. The fact that she has to blackmail the most evil wizard in the world into working for her doesn't help matters. Fingers crossed!
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An Evening in the Park

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My apologies, yet again, for the long delay between posts. On top of it being a very stressful semester (since February) the past two weeks have been - not good. Once the final mopping-up is done all will be well. A welcome high spot was a twilight picnic with friends at the Old Zoo Meadow in Griffith Park, to see the Independent Shakespeare Company do "Julius Caesar." It's not my favorite of Shakespeare's plays, but I always enjoy the ISC (who are in a different union than the Screen Actors Guild, and they came out and announced their solidarity with SAG and the Writers before the show). The production was wonderful - in many ways very Shakespearean, because it was all done on a single stage with nothing but four or five cubes for props; all done with words, and sound effects, and lighting, and sheer excellent, creative direction. (The costumes had a vaguely Klingon vibe that was very effective). I had a couple of minor quibbles with some of the choices made in the p
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