Erikson: best of the best?

I've just now begun to read Book Nine (Dust of Dreams) of Steven Erikson's magnificent Malazan Book of the Fallen series, and once again I'm transfixed.

Before starting Dust of Dreams, I recently finished reading, for the first time, Clive Barker's Imajica, and though Barker's work is grand in scope and quite excellent, it nonetheless pales in comparison to the Malazan series -- in all regards (IMO).

I have to say that I think Erikson's series has risen above all others in the epic fantasy genre. He has no peers. He has created the single greatest epic of our time.

An astounding work.

New direction for The DW Chronicles

After a long and excellent relationship, my agent (Dr. Uwe Stender) and I have amicably agreed to part ways. We remain friends. Uwe is a class act, by any standard.

I am now actively seeking agent representation.

Where does epic fantasy stand?

I often wonder what percentage of the reading population enjoys epic fantasy. When I first began my series, I felt confident that my favorite genre was quite popular among the general reading population. For the most part I still think this is true, but maybe fantasy isn't as popular as I thought. Or maybe its popularity is on a down cycle right now.

Any opinions on this?

Sweet and sour

When I first lie down at night to go to sleep, I almost always envision that I'm huddled inside a small log cabin in the middle of the wilderness. Outside, a blizzard is raging. But the door to the cabin is locked and its windows are shuttered, and though I can hear the howling wind, it can't get to me. I'm safely tucked into a small, warm bed with plenty of blankets.

Somehow this contrast is comforting to me. All the bad stuff outside, all the good stuff inside. What good is warmth without cold? Comfort without discomfort? Safety without danger? The sweetest things are contrasted with the sourest. It's the way it has to be.

Sleep comes.

Followed by dreams.

The cabin is replaced by a slew of other images as raging as a blizzard.

The wind continues to howl, but this time it's inside.

The end of an error

I don't know about you, but I'm one of those who is happy as all hell to see the end of 2009.

Here's to 2010 being everything that 2009 was not!

Cheers!!!!

Dreaming and screaming

I dreamt the other night that I was a deposed Roman emperor about to regain his power. As I strode from a tunnel into the main arena of a packed coliseum, tens of thousands cheered my return. It was explosively loud.

In response, I raised my arms toward the sky and howled.

Which I apparently did in real life, because I woke myself up while making an extremely weird whining sound. I also woke my wife up, though not all the way, so I couldn't have been making that much noise.

Then I fell back asleep and immediately had another weird dream. This time I dreamt that a co-worker of mine fell over and died of a heart attack. Ambulances came and took his body. As I was walking away from the scene of his death, I turned and saw his ghost walking alongside me. The ghost wore a maniacal grin. Again I howled. And again I woke myself up making the weird whining sound.

What's up with that? Whatever happened to good old-fashioned sex dreams?

Many mini thoughts ...

* I have to admit that I'm one of those people who isn't particularly fond of Christmas. Certain things are okay: a sweet-smelling tree, lights in the holly trees in the front yard, Christmas music on the radio. But these few benefits are far outweighed by the negatives: the expense, the worry, one kid jealous of another, the never-enough syndrome, the big credit card bill in January. To be honest, I'm relieved when it's over.

* I am (was?) a big-time Tiger Woods fan. Few people have been more shocked than I've been over the scandal. I was one of the many who had bought into his mystique, and though even I had to admit that he was arrogant, I did not think Tiger capable of the kind of serial misbehavior that recently has come to light. Selfishly, I kept hoping that it would go away. By "selfishly," I mean that I wanted it to go away so that he could get back to winning majors. I love golf, but to me Tiger is (was?) golf. When he didn't play or was not contending, I lost interest. Now, do I lose interest for good?

* Germs are everywhere. My wife's sick. My daughters have been sick. My co-workers are sick. The cashiers at Wal-Mart are sick. Yet I've managed to not get sick in almost a year. How much longer can I hold out? I'm dreading that middle-of-the-night sore throat that starts it all.

* Wouldn't it be great if work-weeks were two days and weekends five days?

* At this very moment, I can hear a train that passes within a half-mile of my house. I so love that sound. It makes me want to curl up under a blanket and sleep. What is it about trains that cause that kind of feeling?

* Speaking of sleeping, I'm one of those people who must have some sort of fan going when I sleep. At the least, the ceiling fan needs to be on -- even in the dead of winter. It's part flowing air, part white noise. When my wife is out of town, I break out a factory-sized floor fan and blast it like a hurricane. Man, do I sleep well then. Meanwhile, my wife is one of those people who has to have the windows open -- even in the dead of winter. So we have a deal. Windows open, fan on. Both of us freeze our asses off when we get up in the morning.

* Two of my favorite Tiger jokes have been these: "Tiger has gone from chasing Jack Nicklaus to chasing Wilt Chamberlain." And: "Majors or mistresses?"

* I love my gas fireplaces, my electric heater in my master bathroom, my oversized bathtub in my master bathroom, and my tempur-pedic mattress.

* Is Christmas over yet?