Lakeshore

As quoted to me by her mother, lillypond:

"Mom, I think I'll be the Queen of Egypt. And the Queen of Michigan. That means I'll have to travel a lot."

Yep, she and the_child are chips off the old Lake monobloc.

My brother asked me in an email today about story lengths. I told him that in speculative fiction, 4,000 words is the "sweet spot" for short fiction, and anything much above 20,000 words is virtually unsellable.

I also sent him this handy reference table:

Flash	<500 words
Short-short	<1000 words
Short	<7,500 words
Novelette	<17,500 words
Novella	<40,000 words
Short novel	<80,000 words
Novel	<200,000 words
Doorstop	<400,000 words
Wall-eyed insanity	>400,000 words

Feel free to offer corrections or comments. Y'all are usually so shy about that sort of thing.

A few housekeeping notes, ( specifically exercise and family miscellanea for them what cares. With photos! )

I'm off, to say the least. Breakfast shortly with tillyjane (yes, it is stupid early around here), then up to Tacoma to hook up with lasirenadolce, then off to anitar's memorial gathering in Seattle before scuttling home again in the late afternoon. Out of pocket most of the day, and probably quite flat tonight.

Also, for those playing along with the takehome version of "Where's Jay?", I'm off to Omaha Monday-Saturday of this coming week.

For Christmas, lasirenadolce gave me this really cool pocket sized digital videocamera. (Among other things.) I used it to ( interview the Niece about why she liked Christmas. )

( The Child at Christmas )

3,000 words on Green this morning. Good breakfast courtesy of khaybee (though I did improve the biscuits), danjite got the stereo straightened out, and we're off to find cheese shortly for the afternoon familial festivities. Busy busy.

the_child went to the Christmas Revels this weekend with tillyjane, AH and karindira. ( I took a few photos before she left. )

As usual, more at the Flickr set

Granddaddy Lake died when I was 13, Grandmother when I was 16. He had the raising of me for a while as a small child, both in the Gainesville house and in Washington, DC. Grandmother was quite ill at the time, as I recall, though I can also remember her in health, making me buttered toast and telling me to wash my ears because otherwise there would be potatoes growing in there.

He was a difficult, complicated man. In some ways Granddaddy came straight from Central Casting as a pre-WWII Southern white man via Flannery O'Connor and William Faulkner. I don't remember him this way at all, but he knew what was best for himself and everyone around him, and didn't hesitate to express his very powerful will.

At the same time, he loved me with a fierce, iron love one degree removed from cruelty. When there came a time around 1970 that my father took sole custody of my sister and I, Granddaddy moved his bedridden wife to Washington and became the doer of laundry, the packer of lunches and the speaker to children. Looking back on this now, I find it beyond unimaginable. A man who'd been at the center of the unspoken, fully entitled cloud of white, male privilege all his life was packing my tights for my ballet class.

My direct memories of him don't jibe very well with the stories I hear. I know I was something very special to him, and that the difficult face he presented to the world softened in my presence. There's a painting here at Nuevo Rancho Lake, done in those early years of my life by tillyjane, of he and I seen from behind walking hand in hand. I'm very small, in red overalls, pulling away from his straight-backed intensity. Some things never have changed, I guess.

We went to the cemetery to visit their graves, the_child, lasirenadolce and I. On the way I stopped at the store to buy flowers and a card, I began to cry without really knowing why. The cemetery was very hard. I left them lilies, and a note telling them I missed them and I loved them. the_child left them a note, too, though I don't know what she said.

I know they loved me. I don't think Grandmother and Granddaddy would have known what to make of me now, but I know they would have been proud of me. I just wish I'd thought to bring a book to leave them, so that my words might leach down through the soil and keep them company in their long years of silence.

( My Lake grandparents. )

As usual, more at theFlickr set

Jay and the_child ( at the Lake house in Gainesville. )

The apartments I lived in at age 2. My grandfather had built these as student housing for the local college. In addition to being a dentist, a preacher, an army officer, and a grocery store owner, he was also ( a land developer and landlord. )

Friday, lasirenadolce, the_child and I drove to Gainesville, TX on our way back from Galveston. That is where my Lake grandparents lived off and on after about 1960.

I lived there briefly as a very small child on a couple of occasions. Some of my earliest memories are of being in my grandparents' house. I recall the wasp-blue paint of the porch roof, the jungle of the back yard. I remember watching the moon landing in 1969 with my Granddaddy Lake. I remember Grandmother making me buttered toast that would cause a cardiologist to shriek. I remember being afraid of the roof in my room, and how cold the bathtub was, and the way my Grandmother had had the windows boxed in for her Meissen china, and the baronial dining room furniture which had come out of a castle in Germany, and looked the part. I remember the nearly 200 year old grandfather clock which my parents are now giving me, to join my ancestral piano here at Nuevo Rancho Lake.

Later in life, this is the house where the rain of teeth happened. That event in turn inspired my story "A Conspiracy of Dentists", which I believe I shall post here later. I have posted here for your enjoyment.

For now, ( this is the house of my memories. )

As usual, more at the Flickr set.

We started out in Galveston, TX, drove to Gainesville, TX with stops for photography, food, and danjite's jerky (buffalo, elk and venison).

In Gainesville we visited my early childhood, including an impromptu tour of the restored glory which is my Lake grandparents' old home. We also visited their graves, which was quite a bit more emotional for me than I had expected.

420 miles or so after we set out, we were back in Dallas for a terrific Chinese dinner with the parents. Off to the airport at 0:dark:30 for the flight home. Photos and other such tomorrow or the next day.

I leave you with this potentially evocative if necessarily inaccurate thought:

"We are defined by the deaths of our parents and the lives of our children."

Dad told me today something I'd never realized. My Grandfather Lake owned a grocery store here in Galveston just after World War II. Dad and Uncle L— shared stories about meat rationing and the art of running a grocery store in that place and time. After lunch today, we drove by ( the building, which is still standing 10th & K. )

Tomorrow we'll visit Grandmother and Granddaddy's house in Gainesville, and stop by their graves.

Took a lot of shots of the the_child today, and some of the rest of us folks. More portrait-ish stuff soon. ( For now, here's a few pictures from today here at the beach house. )

As usual, lots more at the Flickr set

It's been a heck of a week. We started out with lasirenadolce being quite ill on the flight down. I quickly followed her into the thickets of snot-headedness.

Still and all, I've cleaned up some preproposals, nailed down the full proposal and sample chapter for Green and concluded the copy edit for Escapement. I'm waiting on a last couple of bits of feedback, then it's off back to Tor.

All that and beach time, family time, and a lovely midday turkey dinner at the Hotel Galvez.

Tomorrow we're on the road back toward Dallas, with a loop through Gainesville, TX to visit the home of my Lake grandparents, as well as their graves. Tomorrow night at Baja Rancho Lake in Big D, then home crack of doom on Saturday.

Also, said by the_child in the car today:

"Cita gave me something hard to say: Rubber baby bumpy buggers."

I nearly ran the car off the road laughing.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. Even those of you non-USAnians who don't leave burnt pumpkins out for the Turkey Fairy.

Galveston, oh Galveston. On the beachfront at Pirate's Beach with family. Working on Escapement copy edits and Green proposal stuff. Feeling much better, though not 100% crud-free.

Don't forget the Jay Lake grabs air caption contest.

We're loading up two cars in an hour or so and heading down to Galveston. Mom and Dad will be picking up lillypond and the Niece at the airport in Houston as they pass through. lasirenadolce, the_child and I will be opening up the beach house. Also, we're stopping at Woody's. Mmm, jerky.

(Still have the Cold, but it's on the backside of ugly.)