• The blacker the body, the whiter the light—the incandescent, active virgin heart from which all comes. Victor Anderson

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  • Opet Again
    Just popping in to remind everyone that with the Opet season upon us again, the Emboatening Crew is still rolling to support Kiva loans. (My office renovations are going well if slowly, so who knows if that means I’ll get more work done when they’re done.)
  • CowOfGold Moving
    An update on my previous post: Cow of Gold will have a new home here when the maintainer has a chance to put up the site again (with some revisions, apparently).
  • Minor Call for Nerdy Action
    I know I’ve been profoundly absent for a while – my research stuff has gone a bit by the wayside – but I wanted to bring something to people’s attention: The Egyptian mythology/symbology resource “Cow of Gold is hosted on Wikispaces, which is Going Away. Not all of the pages of Cow of Gold are […]
  • Hills of the Horizon: The Past is Another Country
    The problem with extrapolation from history is that nothing is testable. The evolution of a religion over time is not a predictable and easily comprehensible thing, where we can look at a point in time and say, "It was like this then, so it would be like that now." The process of deciding what needs […]

A little excerpt from the WIP

Pinging off what I said yesterday, really. About stories being a thing we need.

But also, hey, I’m writing. This thing is a steampunk-style fantasy, for context; my main character has fallen in with some freethinkers that include a women’s support group, and this is a bit of the second meeting she attends.

Eventually that subject, too, was exhausted, and the sandwiches eaten, and the topic turned to Myrtle’s attempts at more complex ironmongery with the scrap iron. After they had turned that over a bit, Margaret suddenly asked, “Myrtle, what is the Fog like around your smithy?”

Myrtle frowned and tipped her head to one side, looking puzzled. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, it’s rather a stupid notion really.”

“Don’t say that,” said Rose, sharply.

Margaret looked up and stared at her.

“Don’t say that,” repeated Rose. “That’s the one rule. You don’t get to say your notions are stupid. Men will do that, and then take them and steal them away and use them. Don’t do their work for them. Lay the notions out where we can take them apart and clean their gears, I say.”

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