Blog Update

With A Screeching Yowl

Funny story:

I had just updated the site when all of a sudden my computer made this pissed-off cat sound. Cat owners, you know which one I’m talking about. That low growl escalating into a high-pitched crescendo, followed by a deep hiss? Yeah, that one.

Well, it made that noise and my computer screen died, and everything froze. I swear (creatively, I’ll add) and reboot the system.


Oh hell.

Try it again.

Same results.

So I hop on my phone (yay, smartphones!) and message my editor, informing him that I would not be able to make his midnight deadline for the 31st. He’s cool with it (thank you, John. I promise to get the story to you by the end of this week) and I proceed to go without my computer for a few days while I wait for a part to come in (ordered a new video card, and also am getting a new power source soon-ish).

Worst. Few. Days. This. Year.

Okay, so it happened to be the first week of the year, and my scale for judging such things is a bit skewed, but yeah… that wasn’t a good way to start the year. At least, that wasn’t the way I wanted to start one. Worst of all, I was reading Pixie Noir by Cedar Sanderson on my computer at the time, and I…. totally lost my place. I hate when I do that. On the plus side, I did get review copies of To Sail a Darkling Sea by John Ringo, and Liberty 1784 by Robert Conroy, both of which I read when the computer was down (yay, Kindle). One I enjoyed immensely, the other was okay. Can you guess which was which?

I’m not entirely sure why, but I’ve gotten more particular about what I read lately. I used to be able to read something for the simple enjoyment of it, but recently I’ve been finding plot holes galore, bad editing and very one-dimensional characters. Maybe it’s from running SBR, or maybe it’s just that now that I’m writing seriously I catch these things more? I have no idea, but it’s pretty frustrating. I don’t dare read Piers Anthony anymore, since I have fond memories of those Xanth books from when I was a teen.

I wonder if all writers become this way. Could explain why some of them turn into crotchety old bastards.

Okay, I’ve got a deadline that I missed. Better get cracking.

By Jason Cordova

Born in Orange, California, author Jason Cordova has written books ranging from the fantastical realms of fantasy to the militaristic side of science fiction. His latest should be out soon. Really. You should probably buy it. Check Amazon. Demand it at your local store. Pay for his kitten kibble.

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