WorldCon 2025

WorldCon approaches! August 13-19 in Seattle, the geeks will descend. I'm going to be on panels and giving workshops (eee!), so see my schedule below!

Hope to see you there!

Let Me Tell You a Story: Sir Raccoon

I'm back! I've updated on Royal Road both the novel (The Infinite Library) and I created a new page for short stories set in the same universe (Tales From the Infinite Library). As a teaser, here's a video of the short story I just put up on the page:

I hope to get back to updating regularly-ish, as the way the world burning and depressive episodes allow. Time to create some art and shine some light in the darkness as I can.

Story a Day May 25 - Sanctuary Without Locks (and let me tell you a story)

Happy Sunday! (Ignore that I say Saturday in the video - three day weekends throw me off.) I liked this bit of story, though I really need to work on my Southern accent. It probably would have helped if I had figured out exactly where Mariannick was from...

As for today's story, let me fill you in on a secret. There have been two days so far that I haven't written a new story, but on both of those days, I've used the device on the schedule and have the prompt I pulled written down. I just didn't have the spoons to write the story that day. Today, I went back to the prompt I pulled on May 22 from the Deck of Worlds, and came up with the beginnings of something.

Region - First Port

Attribute - rich in folklore

Landmark - Sanctuary Without Locks

Origin - created or given as a gift

Attributes - known for tea, unique system of timekeeping

Advent - a huge construction project is on the verge of collapse

The clock rang pure blue when the roof collapsed. We’d known it was coming, of course; anyone who had seen the cracks in the tiles knew that it was likely to go any day. It still came as a shock, of course, and we huddled together out of the field of debris, waiting for the dust to settle and for someone to tell us what to do.

“At least the store room is safe,” Marta said, her characteristic optimism strained in her voice. “We won’t have to worry about fulfilling the orders for the tea festival. It’s just the fellowship hall that’s been damaged.”

“Yes, just the place where we all come together in safety and community,” Joseph sneered. “Not anything important at all.” He pounded the end of his cane against the ground, making the rest of us jump at the sharp sound. “Why did this have to happen on our watch?”

“Joseph, it was only a matter of time,” I soothed, turning away from the rubble to face the old man. He’d been at the sanctuary for longer than any of the rest of us, and took any damage or faults to the buildings as personal failings. “That roof had been in place for what, twelve prisms? Thirteen? It was only able to hold up for so long. And Marta’s right, we’ll still be able to fulfill the tea festival orders, which means we’ll be able to put money aside to repair the damage.”

Joseph snorted and limped out of the doorway to the secondary hall where we had all huddled. “Believe what you want, I think it’s a sign,” he grumbled. “Twenty prisms this sanctuary has been standing, and nothing like this has happened before. Perhaps now it’s time to rethink whether we deserve to stand for another twenty prisms. Or even another two.” On that cheerful note, he made his way to the residence hall, carefully skirting the debris in the courtyard.

Leon sighed. “I feel like I should go after him, but he’s going to be impossible to talk to for shades now. I’ll try after dinner, around orange.” He squeezed my shoulder, and I felt a bit of my tension release. “Come on. We need to start working on cleaning all of this up. It’s going to take palettes to get everything, so we may as well start now.”

It was red-orange by the time we’d made a dent in cleaning the debris, but at least we’d made a path into the rest of the fellowship hall. I was afraid of going further into the building to see what the rest of the damage was, but I knew that it would be my responsibility to do so. I couldn’t let anyone into the hall until we had established if any part of it was safe, and as the current leader of the Sanctuary Without Locks, my job was to ensure the safety of everyone within our walls. “Let’s break for dinner,” I announced, then winced. Dinner frequently took place in the fellowship hall, which was obviously not available at the moment.

Marta saved the day, as usual. “It’s such a nice palette, why don’t we eat outside?” she asked, gesturing to the glowing air around us. The sun was starting to set, but the air remained warm and comfortable. “We can bring some of the big tables from the secondary hall out here, and the kitchen is far enough away from the collapse, we should be able to get in and out safely.” A murmur of agreement rose from the other residents, and I had to admit it was the kind of plan that would give us a comfortable break from the work. I nodded, then gestured for Leon and Marta to follow me.

“Before I send people into the kitchen, I want to make sure it’s safe,” I announced. “The rest of you can move some of the tables into the courtyard, and we’ll return with news about the kitchen.” I made my way around the fellowship hall, skirting the main doors and circling around to the back door which led to the kitchen.

We were very, very lucky - the part of the roof that had collapsed was near the front of the building, and the back of the building seemed to be sound. I gave the all-clear, and Marta summoned a couple of others to help her bring food out to the courtyard.

Joseph sat with us to eat, but he studiously ignored the remnants of the roof and refused to talk about the damage to anyone, even though that was the topic on everyone’s mind. I met Leon’s eye, and he could only give me a shrug. I sighed internally, trying to figure out what the best way to fix the roof and to fix my people.

• Tea Festival orders fulfilled
• Tea Festival happens, Sanctuary hosts fundraising dinner/formal tea service
• Community comes together, first time Sanctuary is open to the general public
• Power of tea and friendship prevails

Story a Day May 24 - Knife (and rankings)

Happy Saturday! Today I'm doing some rankings on the two devices from the week, both products of the Story Engine - the Lore Master's Deck and the Deck of Worlds.

Both the Lore Master's Deck and the Deck of Worlds get 5s in both Shiny and Fun, as they are very well-made cards in well-designed card boxes that I can spend hours playing with. Lore Master gets a 4 in Complexity, while Deck of Worlds gets a 3 - the Deck of Worlds is focused on one area of writing, and is designed to create single micro settings, while the Lore Master's Deck is meant to cover a broad variety of topics in writing, and can go from a single cluster into a full web covering multiple aspects of the same story.

Speaking of story...today's story comes from the StoryADay website's prompt from May 23:

Prompt: When she picked up the knife, she discovered the blade was still sharp.

Kinds of knife: pocket, chef, fish, steak, pen, butterfly, swiss army, combat, throwing, shiv, bread, oyster, carving, bowie, camp, palette, craft

When she picked up the knife, she discovered the blade was still sharp. She nearly dropped it, the energy from the sharpening spell shocking her like static. It seemed like a waste of energy, casting sharpening spells on kitchen tools, but it was exactly the kind of thing her grandmother would do for her. It was the first time she was living on her own, and Abuela was always going to try to help her out.

She sighed, carefully reaching for the handle of the kitchen knife and putting it in the knife block she’d found in one of the other boxes. She swore she had packed everything herself, and her boxes hadn’t been out of her sight since she’d sealed them, but somehow, things were appearing that she didn’t remember putting there.

Leaving her familia behind in Baja California had been the hardest thing Josefa’d ever had to do, but she made herself believe it was worth it. She would be the first of the primos to go to college, to make something of herself besides just another worker who took the first job she could find that would pay the bills and live in the same house she’d grown up in. She wanted something better for herself, something bigger, and that had meant leaving the tiny room she’d shared with her little prima and make her way north to Seattle.

Josefa had worked with her teachers and gotten all the scholarships and jobs she could to live on her own. It was a studio apartment just off-campus, but it was all hers, and she would have no one else to answer to back home. 

She opened her next box and sighed. Papá had had a hand in this one, she could see. She pulled out a miniature version of his favorite armchair and carefully set it on the floor, far away from the kitchenette space. As soon as the four feet touched the floor, it began to grow into its full size. Josefa seized the air around it, squeezing the shrinking spell to keep it from disintegrating completely, and managed to keep the chair from growing beyond two-thirds its normal size. The chair was far too big for the small space, but the shrunken version would work, and Josefa had to admit that she had always loved that chair. Her eyes welled up a bit, thinking of Papá sneaking the chair into her box and how big he must have been smiling while he thought of how he was getting on over on her. How could she get mad about that?

By the time she finished unpacking her boxes, she had everything she’d originally packed, plus the rest of the knives to fill out the block, an elaborate quilt from her other abuela, a fancy desk set complete with pen and ink from Tío Leonardo, and her youngest primo’s favorite stuffed dinosaur.

Josefa had planned to start a new life in this studio apartment, with a space that had nothing but new things for the person she wanted to be. Thanks to her family, she had reminders of the home that had made her the person she already was. 

Story a Day May 23 - CHAOS (Lore Master's Deck and Deck of Worlds)

Welcome to Friday and CHAOS! The chaos has a bit of structure this time, as the fine people at the Story Engine have created a bridge expansion that makes it easier to use both the Lore Master's Deck and the Deck of Worlds together. (They have other bridge expansions to bring their core product, the Story Engine, into the mix as well - I hope to do all the chaos and use all of them at once one of these days. I will need a much bigger table.)

Faction: Heralds of the Stampede

Trait: Known for an attribute (hiding spot for a notable figure (poet))

Trait: Vast stockpiles of a material (river paint)

Agenda: Serve or awaken a slumbering entity (the Fool’s attorney)

Event: Contest

Trait: Nicknamed after a material or object (glass)

Catalyst: Greed of a notable figure (outsider)

Fallout: Important object going missing (respirator)

Fallout: New pantheon or calendar

The fifteenth year of the Awakening began, as all new years did, on a hot day with the sun hanging high above us. The newest members of the Heralds of the Stampede were brought out to the Square of the Fool’s Attorney for the ritual of joining, in which the acolytes would become Heralds in name and spirit. They would soon participate in the contest of glass, being ranked by their performance and assigned their duties accordingly. Each year, a few of the acolytes would fail at the contest, and would be sent out of the Square, never to be seen or spoken of again.

That was the idea, at any rate. In practice, there simply weren’t enough people in the village around the Square to keep the failed acolytes hidden from view. The failures, like everyone else in the village, worked to keep the Heralds fed and pampered, as they were far too important and prissy to do such menial tasks as till the land and weave cloth. They were made to serve the Fool’s Attorney, though they were extremely cagey about what, exactly, that entailed. The rest of the village did appreciate that they would educate the children, under the guise of identifying potential new Heralds, and they even helped send some of those children to the university in the capitol, but there was little day to day service the Heralds seemed to do for the village in exchange for all the material goods they received from those living outside their walls. The failed acolytes frequently left the village after a year or two, their bitterness overwhelming them as they became the servants rather than those served.

And some of us were stuck here, taking care of ailing parents and struggling to find a way to keep our minds active while forced into a life of drudgery, and it was a living hell. It had been three years since I’d lost the contest of glass, and though I maintained that the others had cheated, while I had followed the rules to the letter, the results were the only thing the Heralds cared about, and out I was sent. There were two others who had failed the same year I had, and they both left the village to travel to the capitol almost as soon as the great doors to the Herald’s citadel had closed behind us. They had been the younger children of their families, and were free of the responsibilities that plagued those of us upon whom our families depended.

Being the dependable one is highly overrated.

I tried not to think of the acolytes who would be lining up in the Square as I worked to make breakfast for my father before I started to tend the fields. My mother had died the previous year, and while I was saddened to lose her, of course, I felt the loss of her helping hands far more acutely. I had never realized how much work keeping house for just two people could be, but when one of those people refused to lift a finger in assistance, and was far too ill to work in the field or do any of the more manual tasks on the land, the workload felt intense. The beginning of the year, being the longest and hottest day of the year, always felt more oppressive than the others, and the reminder of my failure was a sharp knife in my heart at the same time.

Father managed to get himself to the table, which was becoming a rare occurrence anymore, and looked expectantly at me as I brought over our meager meal of porridge and toast. “The year begins today, doesn’t it?” he asked, peering at the calendar hanging on the wall. “I still can’t quite get a handle on the months since the Awakening.”

I smiled as I filled his plate. “Yes, I imagine it was much different in your youth,” I teased, giving him the pot of marmalade for his toast. “The year begins today, yes. By nightfall we should have the newest failed acolytes back in the village. We’ll have to be ready to welcome them back and prepare them for the way ahead.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but the way Father looked at me, I was sure I had failed at that as well.

“I’m glad you and some of the others have taken to welcoming those who are rejoining the village, though I do wish you wouldn’t call them - or yourself - failures.” His hand shook as he spread marmalade on his toast, but his voice remained steady. “That word has such harsh connotations to it, and just because you didn’t become a Herald, it doesn’t make you a failure.”

I stood, my appetite having fled. “Father, I’m not going to go over this with you again. The point is, we’re trying to make leaving the citadel a more pleasant experience than the one we had.” I cleared my dishes back to the kitchen, putting my scraps in the slop bucket to take out to the pigs before washing my things and setting them to dry. “Now, you take your time, and I’m going to run a few errands before I get into the fields. Since we have the largest place, we’ll be hosting the welcome dinner here. I’ve got a few of the others bringing some tables to set up outside, and to bring some food, but I need to pick up dishes from a couple of the houses.” I tied my hat on and picked up my basket, then came around the table to kiss Father’s cheek. “Once you’re done, why don’t you take a look at some of those books I brought from the librarian? She came by yesterday, and I picked a few things that I think you might like.”

His face brightened when I mentioned the books, and his smile grew as he looked me over for a moment. “You remind me so much of your mother,” he said softly. “Is that one of her dresses?”

I ran my hands over the sprigged cotton, worn soft with many washings and wearings, and nodded. “I recut it to make it fit a bit better, but it’s mostly her dress. Do you think she would mind?”

“Never, my girl,” he said, returning to his breakfast. “Now go run your errands, and don’t worry about me. I’ll take a look at those books and see if I can’t find something to keep the brain moving.”

I chuckled at him as I left, but as soon as I closed the door behind me, the frivolity left me. I had a job to do, and not much time in which to do it. Tonight was to be the culmination of years of work, and several of us were coming together to finally take down the Heralds. The first failure, the Outsider, had been the one to awaken the Fool’s Attorney these fifteen years ago, and tonight, he was due to return and finish the job.

The Heralds had rejected us, reviled us, and attempted to destroy us. Now, we would show them what destruction really looked like.

Story a Day May 21 - Deck of Worlds

New day, new product from Story Engine, the Deck of Worlds. This one is aimed specifically at world-building, so less plot creation, but there are some interesting plot hooks that came out of it.

Region - Wasteland of Hope

Landmark - Vineyard (site of an infamous heist)

Attribute of region - haven for artists

Advent - There is a rush to discover a mythical burial site

“Is the camera rolling? OK, great, make sure I’m in the shot. Dude, I said make sure I’m in the shot!” *static*

“All right, try that again. We good? Sweet. My friends, this is it! We’re here in the Wasteland of Hope, looking for the burial mound of the greatest artist who ever lived, Ruy Mendez. What? OK, one of the greatest artists that ever lived. Oh, c’mon, man, you cannot tell me that you don’t think Mendez was-“ *static*

“How’s my hair? Man, it’s your fault it’s a mess. All right, how about now? Sweet. Like I was saying! We’re here looking for the burial mound of Ruy Mendez. He was one of the great artists who established the commune at the Wasteland of Hope over two hundred years ago, a commune that’s still going strong and allows for artists of all stripes to come and work their craft without worrying about the prosaic things like bills and food and stuff. What? Yeah, I mean, you have to qualify for a fellowship, and not everyone gets in, but the ones who do, get to make art for a year without having to work a soul-destroying day job and trying to make art after that. It’s not the kind of thing most people are able to handle, you know? Well, obviously, you can handle it, but your art is a different kind- what, you can’t take that you don’t make fine art?” *static*

“I’m going to be on camera now, show you how it’s done, dog. We’re looking for the burial mound of Ruy Mendez, a middling artists who was purported to have millions of dollars worth of jewels and gold buried with him, because that’s how he insisted on getting paid for all of his commissions. This has nothing to do with art, and everything to do with all that MONEY! And yeah, we can probably make some art with that money, but let’s be so for real right now, we’re probably going to blow a lot of it on, like, the hottest cars and, like, other things we probably shouldn’t say on camera. There! That’s how you do it!” *static*

Story a Day May 20 - More Lore Master's Deck

Man, I love this device. I decided to start with an item this time, instead of an event for once, to see what I could come up with, and I think I like it!

Center object - Jar
Background - created as a complement to another object (globe)
Trait - elemental properties
Background - linked to a mysterious death (believer)
Trait - always malfunctioning or falling apart

“This is the latest and greatest acquisition to my collection,” Gerard said proudly as he came around to a plinth set into an alcove. I followed along obediently, part of the gaggle of guests at his dinner party, all of us  balancing a small plate of canapés and a glass of champagne. I hadn’t wanted to come to this party, but since I was dating Gerard’s assistant, I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Still, I could do without the condescending colonizer attitude from Ricky’s boss.

The plinth contained spaces for four items in miniature, arrayed in a diamond. Two of the four spaces were empty, but two contained beautifully bejeweled items. I felt a gasp catch in my throat in spite of myself, and I heard the other guests around me murmuring their appreciation as well.

The jar was covered in brown and white diamonds, laid out in a whirlwind pattern across the broad surface of the belly, growing smaller as they climbed the long neck and along the two curved handles. Below it, a globe with a design picked out in emeralds and sapphires hung on a gold stand. Gerard reached out one long, aristocratic finger and gently brushed the globe’s surface, setting it gently spinning and sending sparks of light out into the room. It surprised a few giggles out of the more tipsy guests, and I felt my own face split into a wide grin.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” he drawled, touching the rim of the jar with that same finger. A small gust of air seemed to rocket from within, and he hurriedly pulled his hand away, shaking it as though trying to get something off of the surface. He smiled, but I had seen the flash of fear cross his face, and I realized then that these had to be the real things. How on Earth had he managed to get his hands on them?

“Moving right along,” he said, trying to shift everyone’s attention to another part of his gallery. Everyone else followed him easily, but I lingered behind to look at the miniatures with Ricky.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered, “and I have no idea how he got his mitts on them.” I turned sharply to meet his green eyes, which were sparkling with amusement. “Amazing, aren’t they?”
“Amazing is right,” I replied in a low voice, “and incredibly dangerous. You saw what happened with the jar of wind already, and that’s the one that’s got the history of causing…trouble.”

“Trouble?” Ricky put his hand on the small of my back and gently steered me to the other side of the room where the rest of the guests were milling around a display of kimono. “I don’t remember any kind of trouble.”

“They were seen as some kind of folk mysteries for a long time, but when I was in Crete doing research for my master’s, I found that there was some proof to the tales.” I put my empty plate down on one of the tables along the wall and leaned against it, wishing I could take my heels off. “The jar of wind was the one item of the four elemental talismans that was made slightly…wrong.”

“Ah! So you’re the famous Crystal that Rick here has been telling me so much about!” Gerard came over and put one arm around each of our shoulders. I tried not to cringe away from him, but I felt myself sliding out from under his arm. “Now, what’s that you’re saying about my miniatures?” The emphasis on the word “my” was unmistakable, and it made my blood boil.

“Well, you see,” I started, and I could see Ricky trying to signal that I should stop. Screw it - his boss wanted to know, didn’t he? “The elemental talismans were made by some of the demigods to allow mortals to hold the power of the elements in their hands. They were created when the demigods realized that mortals didn’t have access to the same kind of power they did, and they wanted to kind of even the playing field.” I gave Gerard a brittle smile. “They were trying to distribute power a little more equitably.”

The rest of the room was silent as I continued. “The original plan was to make several sets of the talismans, and send them to the four corners of the Earth, so all men would, in theory, have access to the powers of the elements. Unfortunately, something happened when they made the jar of wind.” Gerard looked a little ill when I started talking about the jar, and I realized he probably already knew some of the history. And the fool had still decided not only to take it into his home, but put it on display and show it off to people who came to fawn at his feet?

They deserved to know what kind of danger they were in. “The jar of wind was supposed to contain a bit of each of the four winds,” I continued, gesturing with my now-empty champagne glass and raising my voice so everyone could hear me clearly. “However, when the North wind was added as the last wind, the other three began to spin the jar around, fighting to keep from allowing the North wind from mixing with them. They fought, and each wind would come up briefly before diving back into the fray. Because the jar was made of such strong stuff and covered in diamonds, it held, no matter how hard they fought, so the only escape was through the opening in the jar.”

“Why didn’t someone put a lid on it?” I heard someone ask, and I turned to see one of the men dressed in an emerald green tux watching me closely as I told the tale. “Wouldn’t a lid made of the same stuff as the jar be strong enough to keep the winds in?” He was considering me closely, and I realized he was asking an historical question, not a mythological one - he believed me.

“The demigods tried,” I replied, “but trying to get the lid in place while the winds were fighting was next to impossible. Whichever wind had sprung out of the opening would just blow the lid away, and they couldn’t get a good fix on it. It took one last sacrifice, from Philomen the Believer, to get the lid in place.” I bowed my head, offering my respect to the Believer as I touched the token on my necklace. “With his death, he calmed the winds enough for the demigods to get the lid in place. They decided then that, for the good of the rest of mankind, the other sets of talismans should never be made, and the one set that was completed should be separated and each one sent to one of the four corners of the Earth.”

I turned to Gerard then. “Where did you find these two, anyway? The globe of water has been reported lost since Victorian times, and the jar of wind hasn’t been seen in recorded history since before Rome fell. Do you know where the other two talismans are?”

Gerard put his hands up in mock surrender and laughed. “Don’t look at me! I don’t know where these things are unearthed, I just acquire them after they go on the market.” My face must have been saying something out loud, because he continued, “Oh, please. It’s not like they belong to anyone anymore. They’re ancient, like you said. And that’s a lovely story, but we all know that these are just pretty pieces of jewelery now.” He clapped his hands together, getting everyone’s attention again. “Now, I’ve got quite the band in the next room, so why don’t we get our groove on?” He started “dancing” away, and some of the others laughed as they followed him. I just felt myself cringe with embarrassment on his behalf and I stayed behind to look at the talismans once again.

“You told the story very well, Believer,” the man in the emerald tux said. His voice now sounded much lower, and I heard the edge of an accent that was uncommon in the modern age in his tone. Turning sharply, I caught sight of his cufflink, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you for allowing me to tell the important part, Believer,” I replied, pulling my necklace out of my neck line so he could see the token that matched his cufflink. Both of us were wearing the traditional symbol of our order, a small lid with a drop of blood as the handle. “Now, how do we go about reacquiring the relic for the Order?”

Ricky sighed, and I jumped a mile. “Sorry!” he said, trying to calm both of us down. “I’m not trying to get in your way - obviously, you have a higher calling, and all that, and I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. But…” He trailed off, looking around for anyone else in the area, then pulled out a pocket watch I’d always seen him carry. He opened it to the watch face, then opened it again to show another image behind the watch, this one of a rose with flames licking the edges of the petals. My eyes widened as I realized he must be one of the order meant to care for the flower of fire. “Maybe we can work together to get all of them items at once, and then see them all to their proper homes?”

It was one hell of a party, I’d have to give Gerard that.