MacCaffery, the queen…

January 11th, 2012

I posted about Anne McCaffery’s passing over on Unleaded Writing (A dragon of a woman…), but I wanted to take a moment here and expand on what I said there and share (what I think are) a few wonderful stories that center on her.

Anne began publishing her works in 1950’s, under a name that could not be mistaken for male (unlike others) which I applaud her for…but did you know, she didn’t start publishing novels until she was 40? Yup, she was middle aged by the time she stumbled upon what worked for her in the writing world!!! The minute I heard this, I smiled. There was/is hope for me yet, I just need to put my butt back in the chair.

I have a friend that read Dragonflight recently, and bemoaned the fact that the book was about yet another set of talking dragons. She shook her head at the lack of imagination on the part of the author…and lumped her among all the others that had followed the same story arc. That is until someone pointed out the copyright date on Dragonflight.

{BTW, Do you realize it was published in 1968? 1968!!!}

She’s not another in a long line of people telling dragon stories…she’s the Grandmother that all the other stories trickled down from! Dragonflight is the original from which these other poor copies have derived!

Renee's Water Dragon Tattoo

While I am sure quite a few of you have seen my “waterdragon” tattoo, I’m not sure so many of you know that one of the major reasons I got a dragon was to honor Anne McCaffrey and the Dragonriders series I love so much.

Finally, two years ago, during Christmas time…my wife asked me what I wanted more than anything else in the world. After a few flippant answers I said… “I want a signed copy of Dragonsdawn”. And I really did want it. The moment it came out of my mouth, I knew that I was hoping more than anything to get that as a gift. And I did…but even better…my wife then bought me tickets to DragonCon on the off chance that Ms. McCaffery might be there. (Sadly, she was not, but Dragonsdawn…my old beat-up paperback copy…went anyway, and held a place of pride among my corsets and hats.)

So, again I say, it is a sadder world now…less gold and bronze and brown and blue and green…now that my favorite author is gone. BUT my children will know her name, they will fall asleep with the sound of mommy’s voice reading words that shaped her world and impacted her life and touched her soul.

-R

P.S. Found this quote on Wikipedia as I was doing research which just seals the deal for me:

“I was so tired of all the weak women screaming in the corner while their boyfriends were beating off the aliens. I wouldn’t have been—I’d've been in there swinging with something or kicking them as hard as I could.” –Anne McCaffrey

I hope always to be the kind of woman that would be kicking aliens as hard as I could!

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A Little Taste: OMG, Someone Call 911 Mac N’ Cheese!

December 13th, 2011

For our “Going Away” party for my nephew (he’s been visiting for a month), a request was made for mac and cheese, and boy oh boy, did my eyes light up! I knew exactly what to make:
Over the Rainbow Macaroni and Cheese
AKA
OMG, Someone Call 911 RIGHT NOW Mac N’ Cheeeeeeeeeeeese!

So this little artery-clogging treasure came from my sister…who makes this exactly 3 times a year (Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter). Any more than that and…well, the consequences would be dire, indeed. I have changed nary a word on this recipe, and I follow it to the letter. I do have one hint, though, use a deep pan if you like gooey, sticky mac and cheese. If you like yours a little more brown, use a casserole dish. (I prefer gooey, my sister prefers brown, so it really is a matter of taste.)

BTW, I tried to take a picture, but the horde (shout out to my World of Warcraft buddies) descended and gobbled it up so quick there as nothing left behind but bones.  See…

They ate it all gone!!!!Over-the-Rainbow Macaroni and Cheese

Ingredients
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 pound elbow macaroni
8 tablespoons (1 stick) plus 1 tablespoon butter
1/2 cup (2 ounces) shredded Muenster cheese
1/2 cup (2 ounces) shredded mild Cheddar cheese

1/2 cup (2 ounces) shredded sharp Cheddar cheese
1/2 cup (2 ounces) shredded Monterey Jack
2 cups half-and-half
1 cup (8 ounces) Velveeta , cut into small cubes
2 large eggs , lightly beaten
1/4 teaspoon seasoned salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Directions

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly butter a deep 2 1/2-quart casserole.

Bring the large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add the oil, then the elbow macaroni, and cook until the macaroni is just tender, about 7 minutes. Do not overcook. Drain well. Return to the cooking pot.

In a small saucepan, melt eight tablespoons of the butter. Stir into the macaroni. In a large bowl, mix the Muenster, mild and sharp Cheddar, and Monterey Jack cheeses. To the macaroni, add the half-and-half, 1 1/2 cups of the shredded cheese, the cubed Velveeta, and the eggs. Season with salt and pepper. Transfer to the buttered casserole. Sprinkle with the remaining 1/2 cup of shredded cheese and dot with the remaining one tablespoon of butter.

Bake until it’s bubbling around the edges, about 35 minutes. Serve hot.

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Umami: A Halloween Trick!

October 31st, 2011

Revenge, Served Cold

She often wished she could feel emotions again. That something besides ennui would break through the hardened skin of her heart and set her blood to pumping. Anything. Even, the smell of late season apples or the green smell of mums as they decay in the face of November would have sufficed. But no, she was trapped inside this sterile place with nothing but antiseptic.

Once she’d held anger in her heart, complete with that luscious twist to her stomach, blood rushing to her face, body rigid. But no more. Raging at her family, at her caretakers, at God, at the world had never seemed enough, until she no longer had even that. When her temper fled all she had left was pain.

It was the pain she inflicted on herself that hurt the worst. The little cuts that added up to larger sores, until the largest of them frightened her and she forced herself to stop. To conserve the last of her flesh.

She would need it if she were ever to get out of here. To revisit the sins back on her loving family and friends that had left her here without a care.

She looked at the roof of the coffin. It was beginning to rot.

 

Happy Halloween!

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Blog Bite: Flash-a-Thon (not nearly as racy as you think)

October 24th, 2011

2977 words on new stories done, PLUS the first 5 chapters of my NANOWRIMO novel are outlined…not to bad for one day’s work.

The first (and hopefully not the last) Flash-a-Thon was held this weekend. It was conceived of by my friend DL Thurston, fleshed out by the CVS Writing Group, and supported by Unleaded Writing (in that Day and I brought snacks to Flash-a-Thon headquarters…and also promoted it on the blog and in the twittersphere unabashedly).

Flash-a-Thon!

Basically, it was 12 crazy hours- noon to midnight -in which you had to produce words once an hour. You can’t think about writing or think about your story or do research, but almost anything else counts. Character studies, outlining, stream of consciousness, or (gasp!) writing a story/poetry/chapter/scene. Putting pen to paper was the important thing here. Actually producing words was the point.

 

Yeah, I know, twelve hours of writing seems a little daunting, but once I got into it I was fine.

 
See, every hour had a prompt, so I didn’t even have to come up with my own ideas. I just waited to see what was provided and went from there.
Of the prompts provided (by lovely guest authors) I used 9 of them. Of the 9 I used I posted 7 of the stories I created. Of those 7 at least 3 are something I will revisit (to polish/expand/whatever and then submit)…one is the beginning of a much longer piece…and 3 will be expanded into different stories. That means every story I posted, I found something good in. Of the 2 I did not post, one of them is dreck (I hate love stories!!!), and one of them will evolve into a short story OR might be included in the nano-novel for this year (it is still up for debate in my mind).
The 3 hours I did not use the prompts were filled with outlining the thriller I am planning on writing for this year’s NANOWRIMO.

So yes, I participated in every hour! 12 hours of writing! (Again, it sounds much grander than it was.)
Those 12 hours were NOT completely filled with writing. No, I’d bang out my story in the first 15-30 minutes and have half an hour to hang out and do whatever (check out Unleaded Writing later tonight for a whole post on “quick writing” from me). During one hour, I pounded out a story…yelled at my wife to hurry…drove down to Virginia to Flash-a-Thon headquarters…and made it in time to get the next prompt with 45minutes left for writing. Another hour we all got done by half past, so we played a game. Another hour I made lunch. And another we ate pizza and made cookies.

So it isn’t like my whole life was sidetracked by this, it was just 12 little blocks of time to write, and so what if I spent an extra 10 minutes (usually around 50 past the hour) wondering what the next prompt would be and itching to get started…that’s good, right? It got me not only THINKING about writing, it’s got me writing too.
All in all…a worthwhile and productive day.

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Umami: The Trading Season Part 6

October 19th, 2011

Birds of a Feather (soundtrack: a cat’s purr)

Olive stood at the door of the church, straining to smile at every face. They were slowly becoming familiar, too slowly, but she was trying. She struggled with every bland hello she could muster to remember this one and that one, when really she could care less. Down the line she saw the face of the only person in town, besides Mambo Cree, that she easily recognized. The Dogman, Rastus Ward.

The skin of his face clung to his head tightly, the bones of his skull prominent. Like a barely disguised death’s head, a skeleton masquerading among the living. The watery eyes and pockmarked flesh did little to encourage any other comparison. His long limbs swung wide as he strode toward the entrance of the church.

Olive had watched the way the other townsfolk edged away from him, like always. She met his eyes, and nodded, kin in isolation. He moved past her with the barest of glances, and moved into a pew near the front. A position of power. He wouldn’t have it any other way, and the town couldn’t afford to offend him. The dogs gave them something to hunt with, something to trade, and something in which to take pride.

Rastus had brought most of the breeding stock with him, or so went the story she’d been told. He walked out of the Big Death one day, his pack preceding him, and into the church. He and Mambo Cree spent a day and a night discussing the terms of his acceptance into the Flock. It was one of the reasons he got to keep a house so far out of town. Olive envied him that house, the quiet it afforded.

Read the rest of this entry »

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