Showing posts with label Black Rose Kate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black Rose Kate. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Black Rose Kate on Honesty and Taxes

Note: This blog was briefly renamed Beware the Black Rose, and then A White Cat and a Black Rose, as part of April Fool's Day (and because I felt like doing it!)

It didn't surprise me at all when Black Rose Katie Specks, the time-traveling pirate scribe, turned up unannounced this evening, conveyed here as usual by our mutual friend Ariel Allegra. She has a habit of visiting whenever I happen to mention her online, at holidays and any other time she wants to comment on something I've said or done.

"I see you've been taking my name in vain again," was her opening comment tonight.

"It was part of an April Fool's joke," I said. "You don't mind, do you?"

She raised her eyebrows at me. "And who might the fool be? Not I, I'll warrant. If ye be renaming your blog using my nom de guerre, then I should have a say in what's in it."

"Ah, so that's why you're here. Is there anything in particular you wish to impart to our readers? Or shall I interview you again?"

"Nay, I wish to interview you. What is the meaning of last night's blog entry?"

"Had I wanted to convey my full meaning," I said stiffly, "I'd have done so."

Kate shook her head. "It seems curiously pointless to communicate half a thought and no more. Why are you afraid to say what you mean?"

"I have confidences to keep, and a non-disclosure agreement, and general good sense," I said. Kate looked skeptical. "Look, you don't blurt everything you know, do you?"

"Nay, but I don't claim to be an honest woman. You do. So tell me: is there dishonesty in your workplace that you wish both to conceal and reveal with your oddly chosen words?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that."

"Do they mistreat you?"

"No."

"Then tell me what the problem is."

I smiled at her, even as she cocked her pistol at me. "I won't tell you, and I know you won't shoot me, so you may as well put that away. As the Dread Pirate Roberts said, 'Get used to disappointment.'"

To my relief, she put the uncocked pistol back in her waistband. "I really don't understand you, Karen. My mates back home think me dreadfully contaminated by your century, and yet your ways still make no sense to me. Aye, then, I'll drop the subject for now. But tell me of the cat with the eyepatch."

"Oh, that's a picture of a cat my brother had a long time ago. I just drew on the eyepatch to make him a pirate cat. I don't suppose there are any pirate cats, though. Are there?"

"If ye be asking whether we have a cat aboard ship then yes, we do, to help with the rats. But your brother's pretty puss is too clean and dainty to live below deck with us."

"I suppose that's true," I said. "He probably was."

"What else have ye been working on tonight? Did I see some frantic cleaning as I came in?"

"Yes. I was cleaning my desk."

"And trying to find something on it, I'm guessing."

"Well, yes. The W-2 was in the kitchen, it turned out, but the check stub from the county didn't turn up."

"The check stub is a record of payment, yes? Why would a county be paying you?"

"I had jury duty last year."

"Oh, aye? And was the rascal hanged?"

"No, but he went to jail for drunk driving the wrong way on a one way street with a suspended license."

Kate shrugged. "No, I don't suppose that's a hanging offense. What is a W-2?"

"It's a form, telling the government how much money my employer paid me last year. I need it to file my taxes."

"You mean you pay them voluntarily? Why would you do that? Is that down to your alleged honesty as well?"

"Well, if we didn't pay taxes we would be in trouble. But I don't really mind. Some of what the government spends money on is foolish and destructive, but they do good things with it, too."

"Are your soldiers still fighting in Iraq?" she asked pointedly.

"They are."

"Then you're a fool to give them your money."

"They already have our money. This is a way to get some of it back."

"Oh, yes? Will they really give you money back?"

"A refund, plus an economic stimulus rebate. Yes."

"And what will you spend it on?"

"I'm not sure yet. Building supplies for renovations, probably."

"Fair enough. This place needs it. But if there's money left, I've a suggestion."

"What's that?"

Kate smiled. "Buy your pirate friend a digital camera. And a solar battery, if you please."

"I'll think about it," I said.

Karen

Thursday, November 01, 2007

Le Potpourri

"You want me to co-host your blog entry for tonight? Why?" Black Rose Kate asked.

"Well, I promised to tell my readers how you did at impersonating me last night. If you disagree with my assessment, you can say so."

Kate looked at me with that steely smile she uses to unnerve people. "Aye, but that's not your real reason, I'll wager. You want me there as your token fictional character of the night, so you don't have to work on your novels, or the story about the theatre troupe, or the shadow kingdom story."

"Okay, yes. That, too. You know how tired I am tonight."

"Having cooled my heels while you failed to do more than doze for two hours this evening, I am well aware of your state of mind. But what is that to me? An you do not keep your promises, I'll not be your apologist."

"See? This is why I want you around. I don't need you to make excuses for me. I need you to criticize me, so that people know that I know my deficiencies. And you do it so well!"

"Have you insufficient criticism in your life? Truly?" She nodded pointedly in the direction of John's office.

"Not usually, no. But yours is more amusing."



My pirate friend glared at me for a moment. Then she laughed. "Oh, aye, I suppose I do amuse you, else you would not receive me in your home so gladly. But what of last night? How did you like donning real pirate apparel for once?"

"They were harder to put on than modern clothes, but at least they fit."

"Aye, I increase in girth as fast as you do, it seems," Kate said ruefully.

"They were worn but in good repair," I continued, "and cleaner than I expected. I thought there would be salt stains."

"In my world, clothing is made to last," Kate said, "if one takes proper care of it. I noticed that you failed to don my attitude along with my clothing, however."

"I didn't have much opportunity," I said. "Unlike you."

"I think I did rather well as you."

"But you scared that one little boy!"

"He deserved it. As you instructed, I distinctly told him to take a handful. He used both hands, and his forearm as well. Moreover, he spilled toys and candy onto the ground beneath your toy cauldron."

"He was only four or five years old. You have to make allowances."

"All I did was tell him to put back what he dropped."

"You made him cry. There's no call for that. I'm having trouble retaining trick or treaters as it is."

"Aye, I noticed that. You had more children than last year, but still there were more than a few parties that did not approach your house at all. I'm not to blame for that."

"I know, and I've been trying to figure it out. Part of it is that church again, with their loud and oh-so-safe Fall Festival, siphoning off kids. But I don't know what to think about the ones who are on the street but don't come up the driveway. Is the house too dark and unwelcoming? Is my Disneyland music on the boombox too scary? Do four cars in the driveway make people think we're having a party? Or did I scare kids too much with the werewolf and ghoul masks in past years, and they remember to stay away?"

"Why do you care what the reasons are, or how many children you get at your door? You fret all night about it, waiting for the next children. Do you think that you're a better person if you serve a hundred children than if only fifty? Are you so weak that you depend on the high regard of infants?"

"No, that's not it. Yes, I like to amuse and gratify them, but mostly I want to make sure I'm not driving some of them away. I don't want to feel I'm doing something wrong."

"If it's your conscience that bothers you, then 'tis useless to ask a pirate's advice. I've done more than a few things in my time that would utterly horrify you. And I've done them without a qualm."

"I know that, and I have no intention of asking for details," I said hurriedly.

Kate laughed again. "We'll stick to your safe and cozy world then. I see, for example, that your friend Scalzi is in France, and consequently has not given you a Weekend Assignment. What will you do, I wonder, with your precious routine thus disrupted?"

I smiled. "Oh, I have a plan for that. I'll do a little bit of satire instead:

Top Ten Things John Scalzi Is Not Doing in France

10. Handing out a Weekend Assignment
9. Watching the roads for John Deere equipment
8. Photographing his pets
7. Checking his spam filters
6. Looking for an In-N-Out franchise
5. Planning a 20-minute trip to the Louvre
4. Sleeping in
3. Discussing the finer points of The Simpsons, in French, especially terms like "cromulent" and "embiggen"
2. Wishing he were in Spain
1. Finishing his latest novel, last page, done!

"There! Will that do?"

"How should I know? These are your obsessions, not mine, nor do I understand half of the references. If you're satisfied, then I suppose it will do. Was there something else you wanted to cover in this entry?"

"Well there's that photo I took today."

"What is that?"

"it's an inflatable motorcycle."


"That tells me very little."

"It is a balloon, in the shape of a two-wheeled vehicle, about five times the size of the real thing."

"What is its purpose?"

"Advertisement."

"So that people will buy motorcycles?"

"No, so people will buy something to carry their motorcycle in."

"But it has wheels. Why would it need to be carried?"

"You wouldn't ask if you rode a motorcycle for hundreds of miles on bad road. People like to drive and sleep in comfort, and then ride the motorcycle when they arrive at their destination."

Kate looked at me shrewdly. "You don't fully understand it either, do you?"

"No, not really," I admitted.

"Then you should say so. Are we finished?"

"Yes, I think so. Thanks for your help."

"Aye, 'tis no hardship, talking to you and your readers. Good night! Mayhap I'll be gone by morning."

"Where is Ariel? Did she say when she was coming to return you to your own time?"

"She did not, but I assumed she would be here ere now."

"Should we worry?"

Kate chuckled. "About Ariel? Nay, I think that young lady can take care of herself."

"We'll see. Good night!"

And good night to you, patient reader!

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Kate, the Tiki, and My November Promise.

"Having invoked my name twice this week as someone whose 'help' might be required, I see that you did not truly need me tonight after all," said Black Rose Kate. I couldn't tell whether she sounded pleased or disappointed.


We were in the little alcove by the front door. I had just finished putting all the toys and candy into the plastic cauldron when my pirate friend turned up, ferried here as usual by Ariel Allegra. Ariel said something about a date and some hard to get theater tickets, and left immediately.


"I didn't need you for my preparations, no," I admitted. "But I'm always glad to see you, especially at Halloween."

"Naturally," said Kate. "If you're going to spend four hours sitting just outside your front door, 'tis better to have someone to talk to as you do it. Especially someone ye don't see every day."

"Exactly," I said. Any second now, she was going to give me grief on the usual subject, but I was ready for her.

"But that was not what you were talking about in the blog entries Ariel showed me," Kate went on. "When you said you might need me to bail you out, what did you mean, exactly?"

"I meant pretty much what you think I meant," I said. "I wanted your help with costuming."

"Costuming," she said, deadpan. "Ye know true and well that I am a pirate, not a seamstress."

"I do," I said.

"Therefore you were making your usual lie to the world," Kate said. "You implied that I am no more than Karen Blocher in fake pirate garb."

"As far as the world knows, that is correct," I said. "I've explained before why I'm ambiguous in my blog about whether you're an actual time traveler or just one of my more interesting fictional characters." Kate looked slightly mollified at the backhanded compliment. "But I actually had a slightly different game in mind for this year. We can play it anyway if you like."

"What sort of game?" Kate asked sharply.

"Rather than my pretending to impersonate you, I thought we might impersonate each other," I said.

"To what purpose?"

"I'm interested in finding out more about your actual clothing, not just my store-bought imitations," I said. "And I'm equally interested to see whether you could or would dress and behave as I do, if only for half an hour."

For a moment Katie Specks glowered at me. Then suddenly she laughed. "Aye, then. An ye truly wish it, you may wear my salt-stained tunic and all. And in return, ye would have me done this paper likeness of a heathen god?"

"Yes, and wear it while handing out candy, and speak modern vernacular as you do it."

Kate nodded. "An interesting challenge," she said. "I'll do it."

(Tomorrow: How she did!)

This is the first entry in my November NaBloPoMo run of fiction-related entries. I don't promise to post fiction every night in November, but I will work on one or more pieces of fiction each night throughout the month, and let you know what I'm up to. But right now I'm exhausted from my late night mask assembly last night, so here are a few more photos, and then I'm off to bed!


"Pumpkin Pie Pizza" at the office pot luck



What is this? What was I trying to do? Can you guess?


Chocolate spiders.

Good night!

Karen

Friday, June 01, 2007

Stop MDC

Kate and her pistol
Black Rose Kate has no problem dispatching history's villains

"Aye, I thought ye'd be at the computer," announced. I looked up, startled. There she was, standing in front of my L'Engle books, my semi-fictional pirate friend, looking down at me with her usual air of amused tolerance. It was Thursday night, ten minutes past one in the morning. "Ariel said that you wanted to see me," she explained.

"Hi, Kate," I said. "Yes, I did. But how did Ariel know that?" Our mutual friend Ariel travels in time and between universes, meanwhile attending Croatoan College, which is itself transdimensional.

Kate shrugged. "She reads your blog. You mentioned me in tomorrow's entry. And that black cloth rose of yours was in one of your photos this week, so we knew you were already thinking of me. So tell me. Am I here for a particular reason, or is this a social call only? Did you want my expert opinion on that Johnny Depp movie Ariel has spoken of for the better part of an hour tonight?"

"Oh, I didn't go on about it that long," Ariel said, coming into the room behind Kate. "Hi, Karen."

"Hi, Ariel. And no, it's not about Pirates of the Caribbean. I have a Weekend Assignment to do, and I thought Kate might be able to help. You too, Ariel."

"Oh, one of those," Kate said, looking none too pleased.

I pasted the relevant text into this entry, and let them read it over my shoulder:

Weekend Assignment #168: For reasons best left unexplained, you have been allowed to excise one and only one person from the course of history. Which person would you choose to remove from history and why? That's right: Any one person you think history would be better without, you can now expunge. So who would it be -- and how do you think history would be changed with their absence? See. Told you it was one that would make you think.

Extra Credit: Favorite historical-themed movie. Because why not?


"I see," Kate said as she finished reading. "Because I have dispatched my share of enemies on the high seas and elsewhere, it pleases you to seek my advice before murdering some historical villain before he is ever born. Is that it?"

"Pretty much, yes," I said. "And you're right. I do think that preventing Nero or someone like that from being born is a kind of murder."

"But you don't have a problem with--" Ariel began. I was starting to think she was a mind-reader.

"Shh," I interrupted. "I don't want to talk about that. The point is, I wouldn't have the right to stop someone from ever existing."

"And you think that I, the bloodthirsty pirate, would be more ruthless about such things, and thus could give Scalzi an answer in your stead," Kate said.

"Yes," I said. "And if not, you can at least discuss the idea with me, and I can report on that."

"As I notice ye be doing already," Kate observed.

"Your problem with this is that you lack perspective," Ariel said. "There are plenty of worlds in which there was no Hitler, or no John Wilkes Booth, or no Nero. On the multiverse level, it's not that big a deal."

"It is if you're in a world where he did exist, and now you decree that he doesn't," I insisted. "That creates a whole new universe, right? And that's on top of the loss suffered by family and friends."

"I have known several families," Kate said, "that benefited greatly from the death of a father or brother or son. A woman my own age once thanked me for killing her husband, who had chained her and beaten her. Pick someone sufficiently awful, and the world is certain to benefit."

"Well, I did think about choosing someone whose nonexistence would mean lives saved," I said. "I could go with Adolf Eichmann or Josef Mengele, but that violates the spirit of disallowing Hitler."

"Who were these people?" Kate asked.

"Eichmann helped Adolf Hitler, the ruler of Germany, organize the murder of millions of Jews and Romany and other people," Ariel said. "Mengele conducted horrific medical experiments on some of their victims before killing them."

"Right," I said. "But it's all part of the same horror. And I don't think there is an equivalent person in more recent examples of genocide. Usually it's groups of people killing other groups for the crime of being a 'them'. So I was thinking along the lines of a Richard Speck, or Timothy McVeigh - you know, someone who personally killed a lot of people."

"Aye, that makes sense," Kate said. "But ye didn't need me to figure that out."

"I still don't like it, though," I said. "I still wouldn't do it. Would you?"

"Aye, with hardly a moment's thought, nor any regrets," Kate said. "Oliver Cromwell is another one I would not mind seeing gone from the world."

Ariel was rereading the text of Scalzi's assignment. "You know, I don't think you read this very carefully," she said. "It doesn't specify that one person was never born. It only says excised from history. There might be other ways to do that."

That got me thinking. "Such as?" I prompted. I was starting to have a few ideas, but wondered what Ariel had in mind.

"Lock the person up so he or she can do no harm," she suggested. "Send the person back in time, or forward, or to another universe."

"Where the person can do even more harm in unknown ways," I said. "That's no good. But if we can stop the person from becoming crazy or evil or both, that would take him out of the history we know."

"Mark David Chapman," Ariel suggested.

I nodded. "I suppose I should go with McVeigh or someone like that anyway," I said, "or the older of the two DC snipers, or one of the serial killers up in Phoenix last year. But Chapman...I don't know. If you could catch him young, get him the right treatment, keep him on the right medication and away from the Dakota, that still only saves one man's life, technically."

"Yes, but what a life you'd be saving," Ariel said.

"Whose?" Kate asked.

"John Lennon," Ariel and I said together. "Of the Beatles," I added.

Before I could explain further, Kate pointed at me, a look of triumph on her face. "Aye, that's the one!" she said. "I like the Beatles. Ariel even took me to the Cavern once."

This made me angry. "Why didn't you take me with you? You know how much I want to go."

Ariel shook her head. "We bend the rules quite a bit even just coming to see you, even for a quick conversation. Your version of the world isn't meant to have time travel, and I can't let you go wandering the multiverse with me. We're pushing the fiction boundary as it is."

"Fiction boundary? What's that?"

"It's a way of gauging relationships between realities, and the relative safety of certain kinds of interactions," Ariel explained. "As my supposed creator in the context of this reality, you can receive my visits, as long as they can be passed off as fiction. But the moment you actually go into the past with me, or off into a world in which the Beatles have been reunited for the past twenty years and are currently in the studio, you damage every timeline you touch. Sorry."

"Whereas I have no such restriction," Kate said. "Say the word and I will take this Chapman person from history, my way."

"You know I won't condone that," I said. "Much as I'd like to."

"And anyway, you can't do that either," Ariel told Kate. "John Lennon wrote a song about you. That makes you fictional to him, too."

"He did? When was that?" I asked.

"1982."

"But he died in 1980," I said.

Ariel looked thoughtful. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Kate does go after Chapman," she said.

"Then that's my choice, if I have to choose someone," I said. "Just don't actually kill him if you can help it."

For a moment Ariel looked tempted. Then she shook her head. "No, sorry," she said. "His death is too well established in your world. But we might be able to do it in another world, a few universes over. Are you game for it, Kate?"

"Aye, always. Let's go, then."

"Bring me back a CD," I said.

Ariel laughed. "Can't do that, either," she said. "but if you're very good, I'll find a way for you to at least hear a later album, at least once."

They left, then, and I was alone again, finishing up this entry. I don't know how serious Ariel was. She could easily have been making up all those rules as she went along. And I'm still a little worried that Black Rose Kate will kill Chapman rather than try to get him into treatment, or at least locked up.

Imagine there's no murder.

But oh, wouldn't it be something, having another 26 1/2 years and counting of new music by John Lennon?

Oh, drat, I didn't ask my guests about the Extra Credit. I'm not big on historical movies, unless you count Back to the Future or Camelot. Lawrence of Arabia was kind of amazing, although the long version really is too long. Oh, I know. My Favorite Year. That's based on a very specific history period: the days of early television, and the live comedy variety show.

Karen

Friday, March 16, 2007

Stories of the Weekend Assignments

Weekend Assignment #156: Repost your favorite Weekend Assignment from the past three years. Or, if you can't choose, post the first Weekend Assignment you ever participated in.

Extra Credit: Should we keep doing the Weekend Assignments? Or after three years, should we give it a rest? Let me know; I'm curious.

When I first saw this assignment this afternoon, I thought it would be quick and easy. All I needed to do was look up Holiday Picnic with Tom and Abby and Friends, repost it, and I'd been "rolling with puppies," or whatever it is that Willow says in that one Buffy episode. Then I decided I ought to actually look and see what else I've written at Scalzi's behest since June 2004. I started with a search for Weekend Assignments on Musings from Mâvarin, and never really got beyond that. After all, between the two blogs, I've written well over a hundred of these things. It really wasn't possible for me to read (or even skim) all of them tonight.

But I did read or skim a bunch of them, and I found two contradictory patterns emerging:
  1. Despite the occasional overlap, there really has been a huge variety of subject matter in Scalzi's assignments.
  2. Despite #1, I personally tend to write responses that hook in to my own obsessions. Several times I've worked in some kind of time travel story or premise, relating to The Beatles, Disneyland, Doctor Who and certain early U.S. presidents. I've written about my novels, about books by L'Engle and others, and about friends, teachers and relatives of the past and present. And when the assignment was something that didn't interest me, such as pie, I tend to dispose of it as quickly as possible and find a tangent to carry us someplace more interesting.
That last thing under #2 led to the entry I'll be reposting tonight instead of the picnic with Thomas Jefferson. Oddly enough, it involves the same "Scalzi's clone" photo that Scalzi himself reposted today. I don't like it much, and wasn't terribly interested in captioning it, but that was the assignment that night. So I did it, and then I had an interesting conversation about it with my pirate house guest, Black Rose Katie Specks. Enjoy.

Thursday, November 3, 2005
9:17:00 PM MST

The Clone and the House Guest

Weekend Assignment #84: Take a look at the picture below. Tell us what you think is going on in the picture. You can write as long as you want, or as short as you like -- even a photo caption works. Now, it's a fairly weird picture, but I thought that would just give you more to work with. Ready? Here you go:


John Scalzi is finally forced to admit it was a bad idea to crib
his cloning experiment from a Treehouse of Horror episode of
The Simpsons
.


Extra Credit: Would you like to see more "explain what's going on in the picture" sort of assignments?


No. Not as such. There's not enough material here for writing one of my patented long entries. Yet somehow I'll manage anyway, especially with my nosy house guest asking questions!

Kate is not amused."Tell me again who John Scalzi is," Black Rose Kate orders.

"He's AOL's designated, professional blogger," I tell her. "He's there to encourage and inspire people to post in their AOL Journals, give tips on how it's done, point the way to interesting or amusing stuff online, and generally entertain us."

"Then by what authority can he assign you to do anything?"

"Oh, it's completely voluntary. But it gives me something to write about that I might not have thought of otherwise."

"Is this something you wanted to write about, now that he's thought of it for you?" she asks pointedly.

"Not really, but I'm proud of the caption I came up with for it."

"I do not understand it. What is a clone?"

"A clone is an exact copy of a person, like a twin, but made by science instead of nature. It's been done with a sheep and other animals. Nobody's ever really cloned a human being yet, as far as we know, and a lot of people say we shouldn't even try it."

"But the monster on the left isn't an exact copy," Kate points out.

I decide not to mention that "monster" would not be a politically correct term for a "cloned American," even a wonky-looking one like Scalzi's. "That's because the premise of the photo is that the cloning experiment didn't quite work out," I explain. "It's supposed to be a joke."

"Well, I fail to see the humour in it," says Kate. "What does your caption mean, about The Simpsons? You have DVDs with that name on them. Are there clones in The Simpsons?"

"Not that I recall," I admit. "But the fake clone in the picture looks a little like the drawings of Homer Simpson in the tv show."

"There are drawings in the tv show?"

"It's nothing but drawings. You can watch some of the DVDs tomorrow if you like."

"And the treehouse of horror? What, pray tell, is that?"

"It's a series of Halloween episodes of The Simpsons, in which horrible things happen. If a cloning experiment went wrong on The Simpsons, it would probably be in a Treehouse of Horror episode."

Black Rose Kate shakes her head. "I think I have done very well so far in understanding your century; but this explanation remains unclear to me."

"It's not important," I tell her. "Nothing kills a joke faster than trying to explain it."

Kate nods thoughtfully. Then she hits me with a question that I should have expected but didn't. "Am I a clone?"

I look at her. There is no denying that Katie Specks looks enough like me that she could indeed be my clone. It is also true that she still doesn't know how she got here. I can't blame her for wondering whether she might not be who she thinks she is.

"You're not a clone," I tell her.

'Karen"Am I a twin?"

"Not of me, you aren't. Perhaps we're related."

"Aye, perhaps. Were your ancesters from England or Ireland?"

"Some of them. I used to jokingly refer to the Irish ones as Viking Irish royalty, the ones who got tired of returning north and became landed gentry instead."

"Aye, I come from the same hardy stock," says Kate. "Mayhap we are relatives. But stay, I have one more question for ye."

"What's that?"

"Am I fictional? You told people that I was a fictional character."

Uh-oh. "How do you know about that?"

"I read the emails you sent to Paul and Gem."

Poor Kate! I'll have to approach my explanation delicately.

"I didn't think you would learn to use my computer so quickly," I admit.

Kate is amused."I find your keyboard difficult to operate, especially the keys with the letters missing. But even I can point and click with the mouse. What is your explanation, Karen?"

"What would you have me tell everyone, Kate? If I post the truth, that you're really here but we don't know why or how, people will either assume that I'm lying, or that I'm crazy, or that I'm telling a story. As a fiction writer, I'd rather they think I'm writing fiction than that I'm lying or crazy."

"You think people will not believe the plain truth?"

"That's right. People just don't turn up from centuries past, alive and well and asking questions."

Kate chuckles. "Fair enough. All right, then. We can pretend that you're spinning a yarn, an it helps you preserve your reputation."

"Thank you."

"But you should have asked me, Karen."


I nod. "Yes. Sorry."

"Aye, well, 'tis unimportant now. Tell me more about The Simpsons. Do these drawings you mention move, like the images in Buffy?"

I think I'll spare you the rest of that conversation.

Karen

Extra Credit: please don't stop handing out Weekend Assignments. It would make me sad.

Some Fictional and/or Time Travel W.A.'s:
Holiday Picnic with Tom and Abby and Friends
Not Your Usual Subscriptions
With the Beatles

Black Rose Katie Specks
An 18th Century pirate looks at the modern world.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

Portrait of a Fictional Friend


Here's the result of my silly project of the evening: a photograph of Ariel Allegra. You may remember her as the interdimensional traveler who brought Black Rose Kate here for a visit on Halloween night. Ariel is the 20-year-old daughter of a wizard and a ghost - at least, that's the short version of who they are. Ariel has black hair like her father, but it's less curly. Her eyes are green, and occasionally they glow a little.

"Yes, yes," Ariel says impatiently. "They can see for themselves that I have black hair and green eyes, even if you didn't catch them glowing. What else are you going to tell them about me?"

"Well, I mentioned your parents."

"They're my parents. I asked what you have to say about me personally."

"Well...."

Ariel sees my hesitation, and pounces on it. "You don't know what to say, do you? You named my fictional counterpart nearly thirty years ago, but you still know practically nothing about me. You mostly think of me as a multidimensional taxi service for your pirate friend, and secondarily as Joshua Wander's only daughter. I think I'm insulted."

"All right, then tell me what you want me to know about you. And while you're at it, tell my readers."

Ariel chuckles. "That's one way to get out of it."

"Fine, we'll do it together, interview style. Fair enough?"

"Right," Ariel says. "Are you interviewing me, or am I interviewing you?"

"Troublemaker. First question: do you really attend something called Croatoan College, as I wrote at the end of Mall of Mâvarin? Or is that apocryphal?"

"No, it's as real as I am, in quite a few universes."

"Meaning you've been to more than one version."

"No. One version, multiple universes. "

"So you can't change which Croatoan College you attend, in case you get a bad grade or something?"

"There's only one Croatoan College. It's kind of hard to explain, but it vibrates through a whole series of similar timelines, so that it's accessible from all of them."

"What do you study there?"

"You mean, do I study potions with Professor Snape? No. There is a series of four courses in Applied Magic, but overall Croatoan has nothing in common with Hogwarts or Mâton or any other fictional school for wizards. We have comparative physics, and biology, and literature, all the normal courses other schools have, except that they take into account the variations among the worlds Croatoan touches."

"But who would go to a school like that? Wouldn't that curriculum be inappropriate for anyone other than a time traveler?"

"You mean an interdimensional traveler. Yes, it's a little weird, but it turns out there are quite a few of us. Plus Croatoan has a very good reputation. A number of heads of state graduated from there."

"Which reminds me. What about Carl and Cathy, the students who almost became Carli and Cathma? I seem to recall your mentioning them in a note to me. Do they really go to Croatoan with you?"

For the first time, Ariel looks a little embarrassed. "Ah, well, that was sort of a joke." I read about them in Mall of Mâvarin."

"So they're not real."

"To say that for sure, I'd have to visit every universe there is. But the Carl and Cathy I go to school with never traveled via shopping mall."

"I see. Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"Yes. It's five o'clock in the morning. Stop watching the Benson marathon and go to bed."

"Will you still be here tomorrow?"

"Oh, I never know that. Good night, Karen."

"Good night, Ariel."

And good night, gentle reader.

Karen

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Thursday, November 02, 2006

Just My Imagination

Whenever I write about an encounter with Black Rose Kate, as I did last night, I get a little worried that the casual reader will think I've completely lost touch with reality. You do know better, don't you? Well, don't you?

The odd thing about Kate and Ariel is that they are the only fictional characters I've ever created (aside from childhood, and setting aside for a moment the multiverse view of reality) who know I exist. I've never had a conversation with Rani or Cathma or any of the Mâvarin characters, even as a writing exercise in the privacy of my own head. Despite the fact that Mages of Mâvarin (and the serial Mall of Mâvarin, which probably isn't canonical) depicts characters traveling between different versions of reality, it's important to me that they be completely real within their milieu. To have them interact with me, their creator, would be to cheapen their verisimilitude. They would become like Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, talking back to the camera (or to Leon Schlesinger). "Breaking the fourth wall" is usually pretty amusing, and it works well for cartoon characters, the tv series Moonlighting and so on. But it also means that you can never quite suspend your disbelief in the world of such characters. If Bugs knows he's on a movie screen, then nothing around him can be regarded as real, even to Bugs himself. Mâvarin needs to be completely real to Cathma and Carli and Rani and the rest, so that they can behave naturally and the reader can believe in them. Any interaction between them and me would call that into question. Besides, they just don't have anything to say to me.

But Kate is different, and so is Ariel Allegra. Part of what's interesting about Kate as a character is her ability to be placed in a fish out of water situation (i.e. in another century) and thrive there. She is self-confident, observant and opinionated, which gives her the ability to comment on the modern world with an outsider's perspective. Having her interact with me, her putative creator, doesn't make her less "real" because the interaction is part of her backstory. The whole premise is that somehow an eighteenth-century pirate has managed to travel from a universe in which she's real and I'm not to one in which I'm real and she's not. Ariel, being theoretically the person who caused Kate to "visit" me in the first place, is entitled to pull the same trick. As the daughter of Joshua Wander, a character who travels between universes on a regular basis, Ariel can inhabit almost any version of reality without losing believability, as long as she behaves believably and consistently herself. She's not as effective a commentator as Kate, however, because she's seen too many versions of the modern world to consider ours all that strange.

Do I really believe in this multiverse, infinite timelines idea, the concept that makes it possible for Kate and Ariel to "really" exist in some universe somewhere? The best answer I can give you is that I do and I don't. Apparently there's a fair amount of support in the world of physics for the idea of an infinite multiverse, where every possible variation is played out. But I never took physics in school, and I've never quite been able to grasp the technical explanations. Nor do I really like the idea, taken to its logical extreme. If every single possibility is played out, then every time I do something good, some Karen somewhere is doing something bad (and another one is doing nothing, and one is doing something even better, and one is doing something even worse, and so on). At the macro level, an infinite multiverse is a zero sum game. If every possibility must be played out somewhere, then free will is problematic at best.

Also, "every possibility" does not include impossibilities. If all universes obey the same scientific principles, then none of them contain real wizards, or talking rabbits in planes that stop falling when they run out of gas, or tengremen, or time traveling sports cars. Phooey on that. I prefer a more limited and freeform multiverse, where anything we create as fiction can and does exist in another version of reality, and other possible realities don't necessarily exist. I can't justify this idea scientifically, and I'm not sure I really believe it's true. But my fiction is predicated on it.

So I hope you don't mind if I indulge in this conceit from time to time, and talk to the few fictional characters who know I exist. That is, after all, what they're here for.

Karen

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Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Round Robin: This Year's Werewolf, Questioned


Pat (DesLily) chose "The Creative Side Of You" as the theme for this week's Round Robin Challenge. I've been preoccupied with Halloween the last couple of days, but let's see if this will serve. Tonight, John and I built a haunted forest in front of our house. I proceeded to hang out there with a few entirely fictitious friends. Or are they? Black Rose Katie Specks always gets annoyed with me when I claim that I created her. But according to my research, she never existed in this version of reality. Ariel Allegra is more philosophical about it. "I don't mind your calling me fictional," she says, "as long as you understand that in most of the worlds I move through, you're no more real than I am here."



"Tell me again why you perform this Halloween ritual each year," Black Rose Kate ordered. The eighteenth century pirate scribe has taken to dropping in on me lately, wherever I happen to be, aided by her dimensional vagabond friend, Ariel Allegra, Joshua Wander's daughter. The two of them were hanging out by my front door, eating our mini-Snickers and critiquing the kids' costumes. Except that this year, we weren't getting many kids. "As I understand it, you are not attempting to ward off evil spirits," Kate continued. "If anything, you are inviting them."

"I may have invited you, but you aren't what I would call an evil spirit," I said. "Merely piratical. And hungry."

"Good one," Ariel said.

Kate frowned. "I speak of the spirits of the dead and the undead. Clearly I am neither."

"That's debatable," I said. "Most likely you've been dead for centuries, but you haven't stopped moving yet." Kate started to protest, but I held up my hand. "No, don't get mad. You know it's only a joke. Besides, you're right. This has nothing to do with warding off spirits. Modern Halloween is a celebration of the human imagination."



Ariel, who had just taken my picture for this entry, asked, "Whose imagination? Yours or the children's?"

"Both."

"So you aren't doing it for the children. At least not entirely."


"No. Mostly I'm doing it for me. And a little bit for John, and a little bit for the kids."

"Then tell me this," Kate said. "For whom did you hold your two imitation bats on strings and prepare to launch them through the air, when I told you there was not a child within a furlong of your house?"

"You could have been wrong," I said. "I thought I heard some."

"Who can hear distant children with any accuracy when your street is so noisy?" Ariel asked.

"Aye," said Kate. "Aside from present company, all I have heard this past half hour is that dreadful music about Jesus, and a man talking about a cake walk."


"Yes, that's all coming from the church on the other side of Wilmot."

"Why do they sing about Jesus, tonight of all nights?" Kate asked.

"They aren't singing. They're just playing a very bad recording," I said. "It's all part of a party that church is throwing, an alternative to Halloween. They want children to think about Jesus instead of ghosts and werewolves. And pirates," I could not resist adding.

"In truth, it is no bad thing to consider God and the state of one's soul," Kate said. This surprised me a little. She certainly didn't act as though she worried about such things.



"Is there something wrong with thinking about werewolves and pirates, ghosts and vampires?" Ariel asked. "In your time and place, nobody believes in those things, do they?"

"Some people still believe in ghosts," I said. "The rest, not so much."

"So none of these children will leave your yard believing in werewolves," Kate concluded. "Do the people in that loud church believe otherwise? Would they say it is a sin for you to don the mask of a monster?"



I shrugged. "Maybe. Some people might. It's wrongheaded, though. As I said, it's not about promoting belief in the supernatural. It's about being creative, and having fun."

"And candy," Ariel added.

"Did you have fun, scattering your toy rats and spiders and snakes?" Kate asked.

"Oh, yes. Yes, I did," I said.

Kate shook her head. "I shall never understand this century," she said.


Round Robin Linking List

DesLily - POSTED!
Here, There and Everywhere 2nd Edition
http://herethereandeverywhere2ndedition.blogspot.com

Carly - POSTED!
Ellipsis...Suddenly Carly
http://ellipsissuddenlycarly.blogspot.com/

boliyou
Percolation
http://boliyou.blogspot.com/

Janet - POSTED!
Fond of Photography
http://fondofphotography.blogspot.com/

Karen - POSTED!
Outpost Mâvarin
http://outmavarin.blogspot.com/

Sara - POSTED!
Animated Seasons
http://animatedseasons.artshelf.us/

Linda - POSTED!
Blah Blah Blog
http://blahblahblog.wordpress.com/

Suzanne R - POSTED!
New Suzanne R's Life
http://newsuzannerslife.blogspot.com/

Teena - POSTED!
It's all about me!
http://purple4mee.blogspot.com/

Steven - POSTED!
(sometimes) photoblog
http://sepintx.blogspot.com/

Marie - POSTED!
Photographs and Memories Too (AOL)
http://journals.aol.co.uk/mariebm56/PhotographsMemoriesToo
&
Photographs and Memories Too (Blogger)
http://photographsmemoriestoo.blogspot.com/

Robin - POSTED!
R's Musings
http://rs-musings.blogspot.com/

Julie - POSTED!
Julie's Web Journal
http://www.barrettmanor.com/julie/journal.aspx

Chris - POSTED!
It's all about me...I think!
http://itsallaboutmeithink.blogspot.com/

Sassy - POSTED!
Sassy's EYE
http://journals.aol.com/sassydee50/SassysEYE

John - POSTED!
Personal Effects
http://personaleffects.blogspot.com

Brad G - POSTED!
We Is
http://we-is.blogspot.com/2006/11/round-robin-photo-challenge.html

Gattina - POSTED! ***Welcome New Member***
Keyhole Pictures
http://gattina-keyholepictures.blogspot.com


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