Month: February 2004

I had a nice long conversation with my editor at O’Reilly this morning. We talked about many things, but the conversation was very exciting for three reasons:

1. It was the first time we’ve spoken since I signed my contracts and became an Official O’Reilly Author™.
2. We talked about the upcoming release of Dancing Barefoot, and I got a firsthand taste of how excited O’Reilly & Associates is about my book. It’s one thing to hear those thoughts during contract talks . . . it’s something else entirely to hear them after they pwn you.
3. I got a real, full-on, 100% official deadline for Just A Geek! This means that my deadlines are no longer self-imposed. I work very well under pressure, and I already did more today than I have in the last three weeks. Because I have a deadline, I have a pretty good idea when JAG will come out, but I don’t think I can release that information just yet.

I am truly excited about Just A Geek . . . but I’m also terrified of it. I hope that some good blogs dovetail out of the rewrite experience in the next six weeks.
I’m sure I will eat these words sooner or later, but for today at least, I feel like a real writer, and I like that quite a bit.

I have become disenchanted with the license issues over at Text America. I’m sure they’re really good guys and all, but I sort of want to hold on to the commercial rights for my images, so starting today, I’m moving my camera blog (for fuck’s sake, does everything have to be called a “something blog?”) from there over to Buzznet. They have, among other things, a really nifty Creative Commons license generator, and I think that’s just swell.
Thanks to exciting script technology, the space immediately beneath will forever hold the four most recent images in my Buzznet Gallery. You must have Javascript enabled to see the fun.

On the way home from school today, Nolan and I were listening to Ethel on XM 47.
A band that I am not familiar with, called “The Distillers”, did their rock and roll thing. It was pretty cool, so I turned it up, and took advantage of the break in our storm to open all the windows and the sunroof.
“Is that person singing a boy or a girl?” Nolan said.
“I’m not sure. Why?” I said.
“I saw this video, and I can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl.” He said.
“That’s what Rock and Roll is all about, Nolan.”

Before you read this, check out Comments from the Wife version 3.0 and version 3.1.
We went to visit Kris in the hospital today. Her spirits were up and she looked great. She spent the week doing her radiation treatments and did her final chemo on Saturday. Today was a day of rest as far as any treatment goes. Tomorrow is the big day. Transplant day. I will be donating platelets to her tomorrow as she will need a great deal of these after her transplant. Kris wrote something down that she wanted me to post for her. So this is from Kris.

A note of thanks to all
To each one of you: for every dollar, for every good wish and prayer and especially for monkey mojo, I say a great big thank you.
Anne brings me your comments regularly and no matter what my day has been like, I read them. I sometimes laugh, always cry and am touched by how remarkable human kindness can be.
You are great to support me and our cause for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Wow! Over $12,000! I am truly amazed. All blood cancer patients will benefit from this.
Anne and Wil are incredible friends and not just because of this. My wish back to all of you is that you may find true friendship and love in your lives and stay healthy and happy. I am so blessed to have these two in my corner-I hope they know how much I love them.
I’m doing alright. Radiation has kicked my butt — but I kick harder! Monday is transplant day. I am determined to beat this. I will see my children grown and I will grow old with my husband!
Again, thanks to all . . .
Sincerely from the heart,
Kris

A Note from Wil: We’re about halfway to our first milestone of $25,000, and it’s only been ten days! Thank you all for your support.

Several months ago, I sat in a pub with a good friend of mine who had just found out his wife was pregnant. We hoisted pints of Guinness and ate vinegar-soaked chips covered with salt. Ah, the reckless abandon of celebration.
“I can’t believe I’m going to be a father! I’m equal parts terrified and excited.” He said.
“That sounds about right,” I said. “How’s Jennifer doing?”
“She’s great. We’ve wanted this for a long time.”
“I’m really happy for you. You’re going to be a great father.”
Someone put Cream’s “Badge” on the jukebox. We ordered two more pints.
“You’ve been doing this for a few years,” he said, “and you seem like a pretty good father –”
“Stepfather,” I corrected him.
“Whatever. You’re a father-figure.”
“I’m more like a backup quarterback who can get pulled from the game at any time, but go ahead.”
“If you could only give one bit of advice to me, what would it be? What’s the most important thing?”
Now it was my turn to take a long drink. And then another.
“Forty-two,” I said, and we both laughed.
“I don’t know, man. there are so many things . . . I guess you shouldn’t be afraid to make some mistakes, and ask other parents for advice . . .”
I trailed off, and thought for a second, about all the other parents I’ve been around since Ryan and Nolan came into my life.
“Don’t try to be your kid’s best friend. It’s the single biggest mistake parents make. Love them, play with them, let them know how much they mean to you, but be their parent. They can make friends, but they can’t make parents. That’s your job.”
I took another drink.
“And one night, you’re going to put your sweet, loving, adorable child to bed, and when she wakes up . . . ”
“She’ll be a teenager.” He said gravely.
“Yep. Teenagers are how the gods punish you for having sex.”
We giggled, then we laughed, then we sat in silence. I thought about all the things we’d done together since we were teenagers, about the ways our lives have changed since then.
“And, for fuck’s sake, don’t let your kid scream in restaurants.”
“I’m way ahead of you on that one.” He said.

That scene replayed itself in my mind on Thursday afternoon when Nolan called me from Anne’s cell phone.
They had a few things to do before they came home, and Nolan was worried about all the homework he needed to do.
“I have a fifty-two word vocabulary test tomorrow, and I have a math challenge,” he said. “But I really want to play Dungeons & Dragons.”
“Time to put on the parent hat.” I thought.
“Well, Nolan, I really want to play, too. But homework comes first. I don’t want you racing through your work to go play with a friend, and I certainly don’t want you to race through your homework to play with me.”
“But when can we play?” He said. “I’m not with you guys this weekend.”
“We’ll play next week,” I said. “I’ll use the weekend to study the DM’s guide even more.”
Secretly, I was more than a little relieved. Among the three of us, I bet I’m the most excited to play, but I don’t feel 100% prepared. I can use a few more hours of study, and a few more simulated battles. I want this game to be awesome for them, so they’ll want to play again.
“Will you help me study for my test?”
“You bet.”
“Okay! Well, I’ll see you when we get home.”
“Okay. Tell your mom to drive safely.”
“I will. I love you.”
Even though he’s twelve, Nolan is quick to tell me he loves me, never shies away from holding my hand when we go places together, and always gives me long, warm hugs goodbye, even when we’re at his school.
“I love you too, Nolan.” I said. I really, really do.
Moments after I hung of the phone, it rang again.
“Wil? It’s Ryan.”
“Hey Ryan. What’s up?”
“Are we still playing D&D tonight?”
“Well . . . ”
“Because I have way too much homework.”
I told him about Nolan’s test, and the ensuing delay of game.
“Oh, that’s a relief.” He said. “Okay, I have to go. See you in a while.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Love you too,” he said.
I hung up the phone, and sat there, alone at my dining room table. D&D maps and books surrounded me. Ferris and Riley slept at my feet.
“Not bad for a backup QB,” I thought. “I think this kid has some promise.”