Flying in

This must be Ohio, incidentally. I've never seen such flatness. Just level fields and the occasional 'puddles' of dark water. It's a little plane, just a few steps up from a turbo prop, propellers on the wing sort, so we're flying low enough to see the road. If we're wrong and all those chalk designs and animals really are messages to aliens, I hate to think what we're saying to them now, with cloverleafs and housing developments, and all that concrete all over the US.

The lake now. Must be Eire, I guess. Oh, and a muddy muddy river spilling out into it. Alluvium. I'm hoping it rained recently. And a barrier reef/island, and wee little boats with wakes, and wee-er ones with microscopic sails. And a splotch of greenness in the water off the coast of a sandy beach.

I don't think I've flown this way in years, though I recognize the airport when we land. I know I've never paid this much attention to the flight before. Usually my flights were at night. I'm used to strings of lights like abandoned Christmas decorations. I love the way they trace lines through the night-highways to towns, housing developments of evenly spaced stars twinkling below me. And I love the lakes at night, where the lines drop off suddenly. Both times have their benefits.

The Ill-made Mute

It's odd-it's not at all to my taste, really. Packed with cliché and such, and I really like it. The first three chapters take forever, but then it flows nicely. Infodumps all over the place, and I know that's what they are, but still I like it. It's very odd.

She sold this book from the first three chapters, 147 pages, the first 100 of which drag forever. And when I think back on it, there are other stories where the first 100 pages could have been-should have been-edited down to something more in line with the rest of the book, which flows without the weight of the first pages. Is it the nature of the story, that the first 100 pages of these massive, massive trilogies is so full of world building that it has to drag? Still, that's not the point. The point is, whatever the reason, these three chapters were enough to pique the editors' attention, to draw them into the story well enough to want to read the rest of the book. The Ill-Made Mute is book one of three, 550 pages in its own right, so presumably 1500 pages all told. What's a hundred pages in something that massive? And more importantly, why did it appeal?

Clarion Day 1

my skills of deception previously only hinted at during games of BS have been a great use during the games of Mafia last night. It never fails. I lie, they believe me, I tell the truth, they have me killed. I should probably have a problem with this, but I don't. I'm thinking above all consistency is the key. Plus, I like being on the side of the Mafia, even when I'm not, so I personally always act abrasive and accuse people of looking shifty. :) I'm good at it. I should be worried, I think, as I'm pretty sure it's not a quakerly type game. Though we usually played Killer at camp a lot--the game where one person is the murderer, and if they wink at you you're dead.

I have to figure out the town set up and how far we are from things. It didn't seem too far by car, esp if I can cut across campus, but I'm going to need to find a map. On the yay plus side, there's a Jimmy Johns nearby. Wee!! And I saw some used book stores out there too. And I know there's a grocery store not too far away because when we headed out to get dinner for some of the late arrivals we ran into Patricia (Wrede, if I may name drop for a minute) carrying bags, so it couldn't have been too far. And I get antsy if I don't get some walking in most days, so I'll have to go look for it today. get myself all sunscreened up and go exploring. I want cereal and milk, I know that much. more than that, I haven't decided on yet.

The dorm rooms are little and cute. There's a bed that slides part way under a couple of cabinets--sort of a day bed, then at night it pulls out in to the room as a twin bed. And there's a freak load of storage space. I feel guilty I have so little to keep in them. All these cute cupboards and drawers. I'm still not at all sure how someone managed to fit a canoe in here. The only thing I could come up with is upright in the closet, but no, that wouldn't work, there are shelves. Hmm. I give up. It must have been the floor, which would have given her aproximately twelve inches for walking in.

There's a wide range of ages. I'm on the young side, with two girls younger than me--maybe three, but the last couple of people still aren't here. And it goes up to people probably around my parents age--well, probably a little younger, but I get bad at ages over 35, 40. Older than me, I know that much. I'd guess no more than 45, with most people being about 30-35? maybe.

Oh, and at dinner Patricia Wrede demonstrated her latest feature--she asked me what the titles of my stories were, and then she told me the plot of them. :) I was impressed.

Okay, I'm off for breakfast type foods, and then some exploration. The orientation dinner is tonight, and the stuff really starts tomorrow.

The two rules of writing:

Write. And make sure it works.