Recently, on Madhouse Manor
- Merrimack Crimeline Show 20/03/2019
- Talk About Your Toxic Work Environments 16/03/2019
- Featuring My Glorious Sister 06/03/2019
- It’s Vaudeville! 02/03/2019
- Peeve of the Day (or, Not Just Grammar Makes Me Peevish) 28/02/2019
jamesdmacdonald on It’s Vaudeville! drdoyleeditorial on It’s Vaudeville! jamesdmacdonald on PseudoScience drdoyleeditorial on PseudoScience jamesdmacdonald on PseudoScience
Recent Posts by Dr. Doyle: Dr. Doyle's Blog
Back when I was first writing for publication, Jim Macdonald and I wrote a number of YA novels, mostly for book packagers (that was one of the entry points back then, before packagers turned into high-profile wheeler-dealers and were instead mostly borderline sleazy providers of work-for-hire content to publishers who were too dainty to make […]
Originally posted on Madhouse Manor:
9th of March, 2019 7:00 pm ? This coming Saturday, March 9th, I will have the honor of appearing in the Kearsarge Conservatory of the Performing Arts (KCPA) Scholarship Fundraiser — Vaudeville Performance Saturday, March 9th, 7:00-9:00 pm Warner Town Hall, 5 East Main St, Warner, NH 03278 Info: email@example.com http://www.nhperformingarts.org/…
There’s a special kind of irritation I feel whenever somebody starts trying — earnestly and urgently — to tell me about some New! Amazing! and Probably Subversive! thing that I already know. It’s a combination of “I will not be manipulated by emotional argument, dammit!” and “You mean you only just now heard about that?” […]
We’re going to be at Scintillation, a science fiction convention in Montreal. Except for being in a different country and all that, Montreal is actually more local to us than Boston, or even Manchester. (Reminder to self: Must go to Montreal more often.)
Scintillation is more or less a successor-state to Farthing Party, the convention that Jo Walton ran for eight years from 2006 to 2013. Jim Macdonald and I made all of them — even the year when we had to do the con as a Saturday day trip because we were moving our younger daughter into Simmons College in Boston on the following Sunday — and we were sad to see it go. When we saw that Jo was running a Kickstarter to bring a convention back to Montreal, we jumped onto the bandwagon right away.
(If you’re going to be at the con, don’t miss Jim’s presentation…
View original post 29 more words
One of my brother’s friends cleared out her garden in advance of the frost, and as a result we ended up with a large bag full of fresh tomatoes — more tomatoes than we could possibly put into bacon-lettuce-and-tomato sandwiches, or add to salads. Letting them deliquesce in the refrigerator until they could be thrown out as inedible would be tacky, but neither did I feel like doing any of the things that would involve peeling and coring and scooping the innards out of that many tomatoes, either.
Then I found a recipe for marinara sauce in the instant pot that called for pureeing whole tomatoes skins, seeds, and all, and said to myself, “What’s the worst that could happen?”
And myself replied, “Well, the recipe could turn out to be a total failure even if you execute it correctly.”
“Yes,” I said, “but even if it is, these…
View original post 218 more words
For about the first decade and a half of my post-undergrad life, I moved house on a regular basis, progressing first through a series of progressively less crappy apartments and then through two stateside and one overseas Navy billets. This did a great job of keeping the accumulation of Stuff down to a tolerable minimum, since every time I — later, we — moved, a certain amount of Stuff would be deemed not the worth the trouble to transport and recategorized as Trash.
There were idiosyncratic categorizations, to be sure (my class notes from two semesters of Gothic at UPenn have been permanently classified as Important Stuff, even though I don’t think I’ve looked at them since I got the degree back in never-you-mind) and some equally idiosyncratic and regrettable losses (there was a nice silver necklace from Arizona that got lost somewhere between Philadelphia and Newport News, back in…
View original post 243 more words
This weekend, Jim Macdonald and I are going to be at Albacon, in (surprise, surprise) Albany, New York. This will be the first convention we’ve fully attended since Arisia, back in January — Readercon was a bar-and-lobby con for us this summer, for one reason and another, so we didn’t get the full experience with that one.
Albacon isn’t one of your big crowded conventions that sells out its hotel room block within 24 hours of reservations opening up, and then goes on to fill an overflow hotel or two. It’s a pleasantly-sized regional con that won’t overwhelm a newcomer. So if you’re in the area, why not swing on by? Jim and I will be wearing name badges (and so will everyone else) — if you greet us, we’ll say hi.
(Well, I’ll probably squint at your name badge and try to remember exactly where I know you…
View original post 20 more words
Debra Jess’s new Thunder City romance novel, Blood Hunter, is out today. I feel sort of grandparental towards it, because I was the editor.
Links for Blood Hunter and the other Thunder City novels and stories can be found at her web page; they’re available in all of the usual formats.
President Trump, in his infinite fatuity, has decided to call for a United States Space Force.
This peeves me no end. We came up with the idea of a Space Force years ago, in our novel The Price of the Stars, and now people reading our books are going to think we’re echoing That Man in the White House.
Of course, the difference between our Space Force and Trump’s is that ours is science fiction — if not outright fantasy — and Trump wants his to become fact. Or, at least purports to want it to become fact. But I could be wrong. Maybe he just wants a Hugo award.
(Good luck with that. Science fiction fans have already demonstrated that they have more sense than to buy that sort of nonsense.)
Or, to be more specific, a new porch. Because the hardships and foul weather of this past winter caused the porch and steps of our house to transition from merely dilapidated to actively collapsing, and Steps (see what I did there?) Had To Be Taken.
So carpenters came and carpenters went, removing the old porch and the old concrete and granite steps
and putting in new wooden steps with handrails, which the old steps sadly lacked, and mending the gaps in the clapboard which the collapsing porch had left in its wake.
Carpenters, like writers and freelance editors, are self-employed and need to be paid, and so they were. Which means it’s time for me to discreetly point to the Editorial and Critique Services link up above, which gives the good word about what I do and what I charge for it. You can also find an informal FAQ page…
View original post 28 more words
What Doyle was doing when she wore the Snoopy hair-bobble was going to the post office to mail a manuscript (remember those days?). And if I ever get a Hugo nomination what I’ll wear is full kilts.
Science Fiction’s Hugos would not be what they are without accompanying periodic outbursts of controversy. This year’s topic is the email sent out to nominees for the award, “encouraging” them to dress professionally for the awards ceremony. The backlash from the sf/fantasy community was, shall we say, vociferous and overwhelmingly negative.†
As well it should be. To quote my elder daughter, on an occasion some time ago when I was fretting about the advisability of going out in public with my hair pulled back using a kid’s Snoopy-the-Flying-Ace hair tie:
“Don’t worry, Mamma. You’re a science fiction writer. You can wear anything.”
† File 770 has a summary here — scroll down to item 8 in the entry.