I've just learned that The X Chromosome is Not Greater Than the Relatively Puny Y Chromosome is on the short list for purchase & publication at a particularly intriguing magazine. This story is almost 8000 words... sort of a tough length to sell (for literary fiction, anyway), I've found.

If they take it, this will be my first sale of fiction in the triple digits. If they pass, at least I was this close to a paying market for a very long literary story. That pleases me almost as much as actually publishing it would.

Ok, maybe not that much. But it's still gratifying.

If it's accepted, I'll post the details.

The decapitation stuff was too good to pass up; I just added it to the novel.

Scary how well it fits.

I've always wondered about this:


"In the heyday of the guillotine during the French Revolution, it is said that many of the condemned were asked to blink for as long as possible after decapitation. While many reportedly did not blink at all, some complied for as long as thirty seconds. Still other observations describe much more specific reactions to stimuli following beheading. Consider the case of Languille, a convicted murderer who was guillotined in France. He was observed by Dr. Beaurieux during his execution at 5:30am on June 28th, 1905. As written in Archives d'Anthropologie Criminelle, here are the doctor's observations.


Here, then, is what I was able to note immediately after the decapitation: the eyelids and lips of the guillotined man worked in irregularly rhythmic contractions for about five or six seconds … I waited for several seconds. The spasmodic movements ceased.

The face relaxed, the lids half closed on the eyeballs, leaving only the white of the conjunctiva visible, exactly as in the dying whom we have occasion to see every day in the exercise of our profession, or as in those just dead.

It was then that I called in a strong, sharp voice: 'Languille!' I saw the eyelids slowly lift up, without any spasmodic contractions … Next Languille's eyes very definitely fixed themselves on mine and the pupils focused themselves … After several seconds, the eyelids closed again, slowly and evenly, and the head took on the same appearance as it had had before I called out.

It was at that point that I called out again and, once more, without any spasm, slowly, the eyelids lifted and undeniably living eyes fixed themselves on mine with perhaps even more penetration than the first time. Then there was a further closing of the eyelids, but now less complete. I attempted the effect of a third call; there was no further movement and the eyes took on the glazed look which they have in the dead.

I have just recounted to you with rigorous exactness what I was able to observe. The whole thing had lasted twenty-five to thirty seconds.

Source: http://www.damninteresting.com/?p=495

Brought to my disgusted-yet-fascinated attention via valy_la_cracra


I was particularly struck by the following: "it is likely that some individuals will lose consciousness immediately upon decapitation, while others might experience a few horrifying moments of lucidity as one's head parts ways with the rest of one's person. It is also very possible that most beheaded persons are too disoriented and/or distracted by pain and grief to trouble themselves with such trivial tasks." [revolted emphasis all mine.]

I tend to think there can't be much pain, but I certainly believe there'd be horror, no less at the event than at finding oneself still aware.

It'd have to be pretty fucking awful to watch your body spurting blood. I mean, a decapitation has to be seriously nasty-bloody. I wouldn't want to see it period, much less witness my own headless body bleeding out.


[EDT: The following appears at about.com, so take it with a grain of salt; the chemistry bits are intriguing, though.

Many Historical Accounts:
The guillotine was invented as a humane and painless method of execution, one that brought an instant death: could the inventors have been wrong? Plenty of anecdotes have been used by all sides, many of them dating from the French Revolution, one of the guillotine's most prolific periods. Scientists who asked their students to watch and record how many times they blinked (the scientists themselves being guillotined), murderers who tried to speak, and rivals who bit each other while their heads were in a bag; all have been cited at some point. One famous tale concerns Charlotte Corday, the killer of Marat, whose cheek supposedly reddened after the executioner slapped it even though, at that point, she was just a severed head being held up to the crowd.

The Medical Answer:
The current medical consensus is that life does survive, for a period of roughly thirteen seconds, varying slightly depending on the victim's build, health and the immediate circumstances of the decapitation. The simple act of removing a head from a body is not what kills the brain, rather, it is the lack of oxygen and other important chemicals provided in the bloodstream. To quote Dr. Ron Wright "The 13 seconds is the amount of high energy phosphates that the cytochromes in the brain have to keep going without new oxygen and glucose" (Cited from urbanlegends.com, no longer extant). The precise post-execution lifespan will depend on how much oxygen, and other chemicals, were in the brain at the point of decapitation; however, eyes could certainly move and blink.]

I just watched Reservation Road. Wow. What a nightmare from hell. ( spoilers & the nature of vengeance )

I'm in a sort of suspended state... it's not unpleasant. There's a cool breeze and an almost invisible rain. So far today smells like summer twilight.

Octavia has begun to spend her nights unrestricted. She's mostly comfortable but still capable of being easily startled. She actively seeks affection now.

I have jury duty in a couple weeks.

Sometimes I do nothing all day but read.

Today, I also made hummus.

Sufficit.

I'm looking for books and authors of science-based fiction, but not aliens and starships stuff. As long as the plot is based in and builds upon real science, commercial and otherwise, pretty much anything goes. Carl Sagan, Tess Gerritsen, Robin Cook, Michael Crichton et al; like that. To be clear, straight science fiction is fine. And nothing extraterrestrial, sword & sorcery-based or set on some distant planet. (i.e.: Jurassic Park, Hot Zone, & Harvest=good; Alien, ET & The Hobbit=not so much).

I'm also interested in nonfiction popular science material of the same sort: Oliver Sachs, Thoreau, M. Scott Peck. The more the better!

Science folks, especially excellent textbooks or academic journals you've been particularly impressed with -- all fields -- are also of interest. I'd be curious to know something about the journal and your own interest in it.

Can anyone make recommendations?

Thanks!

Octavia gets more comfortable by degrees. She's very fine-boned and delicate and light compared to the husky boys, who tolerate her with amazingly restraint considering her shrewish behavior. When Octavia jumps, she leaps like a coyote and lands at least two inches above the thing she jumped onto, then gracefully "falls" to its surface, light as a feather. Today all 3 of them were within 24 inches of each other in relative peace... certain progress.

I love her peaceful moments when she's adorable and quiet, but there are relatively few. She has such a fear of our other (very gentle, unflappable) 11- and 13-year-old cats that she's usually hostile toward them on sight. It's always unprovoked.

She hasn't actually attacked either of them yet, but only because I've intervened. If she did I don't doubt they'd fight back, but I'd rather spare them the stress. She's very young and just came in off the street (after a visit to the vet for shots & tests to make sure she wasn't bringing anything in with her), so her fear of other cats isn't too surprising -- there are a handful of strays in the neighborhood. I witnessed her in one nasty fight a couple of days before I finally took her to the vet.

I hope she can get over her fear of my cats. I won't let her bully them. I don't want to get rid of her, but if she can't chill out I'll have to.

Poor kitty. She loves it when it's just her & me. If she were the only cat in a house somewhere I believe she'd be a perfect pet. I don't know what to do about her aggression. Supervised, they'll all eat together and can be in the same room, though there may be crying and growling (all hers), but the fur flies, so to speak, if they're left alone.

She's jealous (growls when I touch or speak to the other cats), needy (must be fondled, looked at, spoken to and held/kissed at all times), loud (has opinions about everything), mean (see above), and paranoid. Takes after her new Mumma.

I love her spirit.

Sometimes she sleeps with her eyes open.

Since the beginning of May I've withdrawn about 40 novels from the library. Whenever I go in to pick up books I've ordered, there are at least two, sometimes 5 or 6. There's no limit to the number of books I can take out. Michigan has a computerized system that allows you to search online the holdings of all of the public libraries in the state. If it's in a Michigan library and it isn't checked out or on hold for someone else, I might have it in a couple days. So I go nuts. Well, why not.

I return the books I'm done with and drop them off while I'm getting my new ones. The books I've been reading lately are mostly novels. I've slogged through some, flown through others. I'm studying story, reading for endings and plots and subplots.

Sgt. Husband thinks having endless stacks of books all over the house is funny. I trip over books stacked in the hallway. I have to reach over or around books piled on the kitchen table. There are books in the fruit basket with the lemons sometimes. There were yesterday. We don't have enough space. Books and stacks of science publications. They're endless. They’re everywhere.

We just got a third cat and there's an 8-inch stack of Tess Gerritsen hardcovers propping a screen door up in front of the room where she sleeps separated from the other cats for the moment, because she's nervous. The Tess Gerritsen stack came from the library. Books may be found holding up anything in my house. I'll bet there's at least one book in that spare room with the cat.

I’m a poor example of something or other, because I don't really read novels regularly. I mean, I haven't been reading novels. Sometimes I do, but not often. I probably shouldn’t even admit that. Never mind, then.

Not as often as when I was, say, in high school and reading novels was what I did instead of pay attention in class. But I like novels and I'd forgotten, can you believe that? That's pretty bad. My life is all about books. My house is full of books. My husband makes his own book mess, believe you me. I don't work alone here. The Sarge is a reader and a consulter and a planner and it shows. We need a book wing.

The third cat has curled up in my lap. I've named her after Octavia Butler.

With all this novel has been through, I'm surprised it still even resembles itself.

The third major revision is fun, finally. This morning I worked on one of the more interesting aspects of a particular madness in one of the main characters, a recurring delusion. It's the sort of thing that opens up the sense of real limitlessness, of potential with no boundaries.

It's a feeling I love, maybe one of the reasons I started (or stayed with) this writing business in the first place.

Aggressive lately. There's a lot to do.

The semester ends soon, but not soon enough.

I'd like to resume smoking or drinking or both. It's not such a good thing, I've determined, to use my own name and likeness in association with my writing if privacy really is important to me. It is. I can do without a lot of the attention I've been receiving.

I don't think my actual identity is of any asset to the writing.

I may well just drop off the face of the earth and be done with it. Meanwhile, my real life will continue uninterrupted by assholery.

I've been considering the science thread that wants to wind into Theory, wondering if it really belongs there.

All the recent fiction -- everything since Earthquake Season -- has had an element of true science worked into the plot. It doesn't seem avoidable; what qualities make potential stories interesting enough to me that I'm willing to devote the work to them is the science of whatever subject... however it's handled.

I like the research a lot and have enjoyed the writing of fiction SO much more than the crap I was turning out. But it does have an unforseen -- to me -- and maybe negative effect of limiting my audience.

But then, so do the subjects, and this is true of all writing, I believe... I didn't think the little bit of science in Surface Properties of the Moon was particularly much, or difficult in any way, and in fact, a number of vocal readers -- women, it turns out -- mentioned the science aspect specifically as a solid strength in the story.


But others (men -- an electrical engineer, my husband, a judge, and a college student among them) seemed baffled not only by what was happening to the women, but by the little bits of astronomy & whatnot scattered around.

I was surprised. I don't think this story is difficult; it's a pretty curiosity, like a strange shell. I was baffled by their bafflement.

Gender-based division, beyond the blatantly obvious matter of the subject itself? Seems probable, except that the editor who bought the story raved about it, helped edit it, paid for it and published it right away, and was a man the whole time. Terry saw specifically what I'd hoped readers would... he needed no help. Perhaps it should be telling that this man -- editor of The Menda City Review -- is himself an artist; an author, no less.

Maybe any gaps between the story and some of the readers is a result of some kind of vision discrepancy -- of experiencing/not experiencing the kind of visualizations described in the story, which make up a lot of the action -- a certain sort of creativity I'd taken for granted as universal, rather than gender. But the men who voiced confusion stated the gender thing and the science explicitly.

I suppose if you don't recognize the cameos of Eve, Joan of Arc, and Charlotte Perkins Gilman's protagonist from The Yellow Wallpaper you might have a few holes in immediate comprehension, but those scenes are explained right away (except for Eve, who really should not require explanation since there's a snake and an apple, so come on).

I'd think it a matter of taste if the only reports of confusion hadn't arisen exclusively in men.

I know it's not unique, this sort of thing... it happens with every piece. Mileage varies and will vary. Count on it.

That I was surprised as much as I was in this case surprises me.

"... [i]t was a rare day when some white didn't visit my office and proudly proclaim that he or she was of Indian descent.

"Cherokee was the most popular tribe of their choice and many people placed the Cherokees anywhere from Maine to Washington State. Mohawk, Sioux, and Chippewa were the next in popularity. Occasionally I would be told about some mythical tribe from lower Pennsylvania, Virginia, or Massachussetts which had spawned the white standing before me.

"At times I became quite defensive about being a Sioux when these white people had a pedigree that was so much more respectable than mine. But eventually I came to understand their need to identify as partially Indian and did not resent them. I would confirm their wildest stories about their Indian ancestry and would add a few tales of my own hoping they would be able to accept themselves someday and leave us alone."

-- Vine DeLoria, Jr. (Custer Died for Your Sins)

Theory of Relativity draft 1 is done: 2,072 words.

I'd like to post it here, or at least part of it... maybe an excerpt.

I may make some changes. I'm not sure about the ending. I think it's kind of abrupt, but I don't know whether it's possible for the story to go anywhere but down after the buildup.

I've submitted it to a batch of first readers... we'll see what their verdict is.

The new story is plugging along, at 2500 words this morning. I don't know how long it'll be, it's hard to say.

Also, I have lots of cousins. Get bloozed.

This is my other cousin's band. Listen and be amazed, won't you? Steel Worker Blues is my favorite on the profile; Woman Like You's a close second. CDs here. They're also on iTunes. Ask me nice & I just may gift you the whole CD. No lie.

The X Chromosome is Not Greater Than the Relatively Puny Y Chromosome can go out again now that Surface Properties is done. Why o why is this bastard still here. Now there's no reason not to buff & send it off again except, of course, that I hate it so very well and don't want to be in the same room with it.

So to put off reworking it as long as possible, I started a new story this morning and got 6 pages in. So far, not bad. So far, kind of fun... inspired by my trip to Six Nations last week, wish fulfillment, music medicine. A guitar, maybe a drum. Maybe a fancy dancer, dancin fancy.

I don't think I've written about Native characters since Left-handed Morpheus. Feels good... you can take the Indian off the reservation, but you don't take the reservation off the Indian.

Go listen to CKRZ, the 6 Nations radio station via live stream.