Talk Thursday: Fan

Sometimes I wonder about the Talk Thursday Topic-O-Meter. Sometimes it seems to function at less than its optimal speed, and sometimes it spits out some just plain weird configurations that lead me to wonder if it's, you know, running with all its parts engaged. Or maybe it has a Plan, a Secret Plan of which I, a lowly mortal, can know nothing because to fully comprehend it would blow away my tiny mind and I'd be reduced to a gelatinous lump of protoplasm working at, I dunno, a law firm somewhere.

In any case, the topic of the week is Fan. And how do you like them apples?

I am a Fan of a great many things, though I tend not to Fan things on Facebook because it's a great way to get tiny viruses and junk mail. I can't speak for everyone, though, and one of the everyones I can't speak for is Joan. We share a Facebook page, and she likes to Fan things, so I end up Fanning them whether I want to Fan them or not. The last time I checked, I'd Fanned the Band of Gold, Afrah (my favorite restaurant), North Texas Mensa and something called the Tardis Tavern. I have only the vaguest idea what half of those things are. The other half are complete mysteries. Luckily there is no requirement that you must know what something is in order to be a Fan; as far as I can tell, you don't even have to be breathing. You just have to have someone click on the "Become a Fan" box for you and you're in, kid. That's right; my mother-in-law, many years deceased, could easily become a Fan of the Village People. (What's that I hear? Somebody turning over in her urn roundabouts Fort Rosecrantz? Sorry, Mrs. C. I was just making an illustrative example.)

I'm also a Fan of fans. Don't know what I'd do without them in Texas in the summer. Absolutely indispensable for questionably air-conditioned meditation halls at Buddhist retreats in the middle of summer. Trust me, I've got this down to a science; om mani padme flip, om mani padme flip. I have a fan mounted to the ceiling of my bedroom, and since the switch is broken, I unscrew the lightbulbs at night so I can still have the fan without the lights. One might point out, and one might be right, that I could just get the silly thing repaired. Yes, I could, but that particular repair is at the end of a long list. Currently at the top of the list: Getting the tree that's grown up around the power lines cut the heck down. It's starting to look dangerous out there. Second on the list: Getting another Fan mounted on Joan's ceiling. She needs one more than I do, and that's saying something.

Okay, I've covered Fans and I've covered fans. Can I stop pretending I know what to do with this topic now? Oh good. Let's get back to my favorite subject: Writing. Firstly, let me announce that the New Book has a title: Taken By Storm. Look that up on Amazon and you'll find at least 21 unique items, which was where I stopped counting. Five of them were drippy romance novels and one of them was a heavy metal album, but that's okay; can't copyright a title [Lutz v. DeLaurentiis (1989) 211 Cal. App. 3d 1317]. Secondly, it made Joan cry. Oh, wait; Secondly, Joan actually read it. Thirdly, it made her cry. And finally, buoyed by a familiar dose of wild optimism, ladies and germs, I'm pleased and mildly terrified to announce I sent out the first query letter this morning. Yes, I'm still querying the other one--but now I've doubled my odds. (As Han Solo: "Never tell me the odds.")

This leaves me in an odd position; without a work-in-progress for the first time in, uh, ages. I was working on like four of them before Storm took over, but for some reason I don't want to go back to any of the other three. I want to do something else. Haven't a clue what, just--something else. Maybe something about fans. Hey, how about a fake biography of a fan maker who travels to San Sebastian to meet Thor and Loki and prevent the end of the world? Nah, that'd never work. But it does pull the whole blog post full circle. Fan that!