Those are the mis-heard words my kids sing to a Christmas
song. It sounds like a jingle about a barista learning to spice the Polar
Express hot chocolate. While dancing on the backs of the seats. I really should
pen the rest of it.
But first, I have other projects.
Lone Wilderlands.
I’ve always wanted a card game/tabletop RPG that can be played solo and is more
portable than a book, but I’ve looked and looked and never found one. The
mechanics of most RPGs don’t model physiology and psychology the way I’d like,
either. So, I made my own. In the spring of 2018, I hope to have Lone Wilderlands: The Solo Sandbox RPG in a
Cardbox available for purchase at TheGameCrafter.
SpaceBoots. My
first young adult sci-fi is novel is complete. It’s currently on an editor’s
desk at a publisher. Where exactly on that desk and under how big a pile, I
don’t know. But how fun for Leo Jones and Hophnia Zimmerman! Maybe someday dozens
millions hundreds of people will experience the heroes’ dual timeline
misadventures in American middle schools and US Navy starships.
Fyrecon. I was
recently invited to present at a three-day conference on writing and art in
science fiction and fantasy. In June 2018, I’ll be teaching a workshop on
Aerospace Medicine and perhaps a few other disease and pestilence things. It’s
fun to dust off Mr. Dalton the high school biology teacher, and even more fun to spend time with writers.
Untitled Work in
Progress. This one gets me really excited! I’m doing background reading for
what I call frontier punk historical science-fiction. Did you know all the
great scientists in history had bodyguards? No? They didn’t either…
So, that’s my Holiday Card to everyone: Merry Christmas,
Happy Hanukah, Peaceful Solstice, Fab Festivus, Jolly Kwanzaa, and brilliant
Boxing Day.
Did I forget anyone?
Oh. The nutmeg. Here it is in recipe context. Original
lyrics by Isaiah, music by George Frederick Handel, and modifications by my offspring:
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
For the Lord’s Nutmeg
Apprentice, yeah!
But the Nutmeg Apprentice isn’t the best musical malapropism
to come out of my house. According to my age 8 son, Boris Karloff describes the
Grinch a little more harshly than Dr. Seuss intended:
You’re a three-decker
sour crotch and toadstool sandwich.
Put that on a Holiday
Card.
