Gaming goddess Roz Clarke has posted an interview with me about my part in the first Homeworld game, and the relationship between gameplay and narrative. I don’t think I’ve ever gone on record regarding my experiences with Homeworld, beyond simply saying that it changed my life. But now the full story can be told.
I’m 39 today.
People keep asking me how does it feel to be old?
The scarier question is how does it feel to be middle-aged?
Pretty good, actually.
Especially since right now I’m having coffee while watching Captain Zoom lick his ass with the carefree abandon of a creature who cares nothing for birthdays, and is, as Borges pointed out, effectively immortal, given that he knows fuck-all about death.
I told him, but he wouldn’t listen. I said, “Captain Zoom, death will come and wrap you in its steely arms, hahahaahahahahaahahaha.”
He pondered this, and then continued to lick his ass.
U Street in D.C has done a lot of transmogrifying in recent years–some of it for the better, some of it . . .well, the latest casualty is Polly’s, which had been around for donkey’s years, and was one of the diviest dive bars you were likely to come across. I rode my bike over there last night for a burger and a beer only to find a handwritten note on the door saying that place had seen its last day.
Nor was its passing mourned in all quarters. Local blogger Prince of Petworth gives it a justified shout-out, but many of the commenters seem to have been put off by alleged olfactory issues across its final phase. In the spirit of full disclosure, my sense of smell sucks, and I always sat near the window anyway, where I didn’t have to listen to gentrified fuckwits complain about how they didn’t have their favorite designer ale on tap. I can forgive a lot if a bar has welded metal sculpture, a wood fire and more than its share of my favorite drinking memories from the last decade and a half.
(Though I got my burger and beer at Saint Ex, which rocked as always.)
I’m flying to the UK tomorrow for my grandmother’s funeral. This will be the first time I’ve been back in two and a half years.
My grandmother was born in 1916, same year that zeppelins rained bombs on London. She hadn’t recognized anyone in a long while now; after my grandfather (to whom BURNING SKIES is dedicated) died in 2003, she endured a long decline, both physical and mental. So her passing is closure of a kind.
I was fortunate, in that when I worked for these guys, I was sent across the pond at least three times a year, and always made sure to spend spare time up at my grandparents’ house in Hitchin. And the flights were great, too: six to eight hours of uninterrupted hacking away at Autumn Rain and their ilk. I remember like it was yesterday the pissed-off guy in the seat in front of me asking me if I could stop typing so hard. How could I explain to him that the words were burning so hot I couldn’t help it? I wanted so badly to get the books published while my grandparents were still alive and cognizant. But there are some things we don’t get to choose, and most of the ones that matter come down to timing.
It gives me great pleasure to introduce the two new members of the Williams household, shown here while studying the habits of fake mice in bathtubs. 
They are:
CAPTAIN ZOOM (aka “the White Lion”): When Zoom purrs, it sounds like a lawnmower starting up. And he is always purring: possibly the most extroverted cat I’ve ever met. This is good news, because his friend is a little shyer, and needs someone to set an example.
AJAX (aka “L’Orange”): For the first few days, Ajax was convinced the entire thing was a trap, and that any moment now he and Zoom would be consumed with gusto. However, discovering the pleasures of the Belly Rub made him forget any such theories, and now he rivals Zoom in his quest for attention.
THEIR MISSION: should they choose to accept it . . . to consume fish at prodigious rates, chase each other at 3 in the morning, and sleep all afternoon. We’ll see if they can handle it.
Fellow SF Novelist Dave Freer is emigrating from South Africa to Australia, but the costs of quarantine and transport for his four pets run to 19K. He’s set up a special storytellers bowl site where you can contribute $ to an ongoing novel he’s working on; please consider doing so, as those pet-owners out there know how hard it would be to leave an animal behind.
And speaking of animals, there will be a Special Pet Announcement on this site shortly. The search for Spartacus’ successor is over! Stay tuned for details.
Yesterday you would have been one year old. Happy birthday, Spartacus, I miss you so much, and am so grateful our lives intersected for the time they did.
(Comments closed on this post. I really appreciate everybody’s thoughts on the earlier post, but this one is just for the Beast.)
Okay, so we got some cool links/news:
—Top SF Twitter feeds worth checking out. UPDATE: btw, my own Twitter feed is here.
—Fellow SFNovelist Kelly McCullough’s new book MythOS is out; as the title implies, you’re looking at a world where the line between programming and magick is getting (very) blurred. Very cool stuff, and worth checking out.
—At the invitation of military science-fiction colleague and general bad-ass Andy Remic, I’m now a member of Science Fiction and Fantasy Ethics, which has the “aim of celebrating all that is positive in genre fiction.” How this translates into day-to-day implementation is by definition a work in progress, but Andy assures me it doesn’t mean I have to stop my tales of mayhem and mass-slaughter. Hopefully he won’t either. This is a really cool initiative, and I’ll be posting more on it shortly.
—In the wake of Terminator Salvation, it’s worth revisiting this James Cameron interview on why Sam Worthington is going to kick Avatar’s ass
—And if you’re living in D.C., then keep in mind that Artomatic is the only game in town for the next month. Be there or miss out . . .and I’ll be doing a reading there on July 2nd!
Meanwhile, BURNING SKIES can be found on Amazon and in bookstores everywhere!
You guys have got to check out the size of this thing (er, this isn’t what it sounds like).
I love how the ratcatcher is identified only as “Mr. Xian.” And no, I’ve no intention of showing this to Spartacus the Cat. His world is complex enough as is.
Money quote: “Mr Xian is believed to still be in possession of the animal, after stuffing it into a bag and departing the scene.”
Spartacus the Cat here! I’m back while Dave frantically works on the proofs for BURNING SKIES. He took a day out for ComicCon in NYC on Saturday, leaving at 7 in the morning and getting back well after midnight. I found this annoying, so I had a little “accident” on the rug. Harharharhar. Now he’s afraid to leave the house. 
Anyway, he did all sorts of things up there, like signing copies of MIRRORED HEAVENS and meeting cool people; I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it, but he also brought me back a new friend! I’d like you to meet Rex the Lion. Rex is from www.squishable.com, which is run by a guy who used to row alongside Dave back in the corporate slave galley. I know Rex looks so realistic he’s probably fooled you into thinking he’s a real lion, but I have a very acute sense of smell so I know he isn’t. But he’s still fun to have around. We spent the morning talking about how to get down the fire escape and meet some of the female alley cats. Meantime, I think I might have an accident on his head to show him who’s boss.
