Over the last couple of years, I’ve licensed and commissioned art from a number of people on deviantART, for various purposes. (Most notably, arguably, the cover of my first novel was licensed there.) It can be a fairly painless and rewarding process for everyone involved, if you know what you’re doing. Because the average novelist knows slightly less about image licensing than they do about fluid dynamics (apologies to any physicist-writers, diatribes on postcards to the usual address…), I thought I’d try to cover the basics of what to know, what to do, and what to expect, so you can benefit from my experience.
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So, it’s twenty-twelve. Man, what an exciting twenty-eleven, eh? There was that stuff, and those things, and some people died, and a couple of whatever happened… Good times, good times. Mostly.

Among all that, winter sort of failed to show up on time. White Thanksgiving? Nope. White Christmas? Nope. White New Year’s Eve? Nope.

In fact, New Year’s Eve was really kind of nice. At least the weather…
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Fifty years ago (26 Dec 1961):

Moscow, Dec 26, UPI – Premier Khrushchev has urged lesser Soviet officials to tell him when he is wrong and not meekly to accept his directives.
His declaration–apparently a further effort to wipe out the paralyzing “cult of personality”–was made last week at a conference of agricultural officials in the Ukraine and published yesterday by Pravda.
Mr. Khrushchev’s remark was provoked by P.A. Vlasvuk, president of the Ukrainian Academy of Agriculture.
Mr. Vlasvuk had apparently claimed that in a criticized method of crop rotation, he had followed suggestions made by Mr. Khrushchev.
To this Mr. Khrushchev replied: “Is it I who must be the highest authority in questions of agricultural science? You are president of the Ukraine’s Academy of Agriculture and I am secretary of the central committee of the (Communist) party. In these questions it is you who should help me, and not I you.”
“I can make a mistake but you, if you are an honest scientist, you should tell me ‘Comrade Khrushchev you do not understand that question altogether correctly.’ If you explain to me how to correctly understand a question, then I would thank you for it.”

A day ago. Roughly. (25 Dec 2011):

MOSCOW, December 25 (RIA Novosti) Russian Prime Minister and presidential candidate Vladimir Putin still enjoys the support of the majority of Russians, his spokesman Dmitry Peskov said in an interview with AFP news agency on Sunday after the biggest opposition protest in Moscow.
“Putin still has the support of a majority. And we should treat the opinion of a majority with respect,” Peskov was quoted by AFP as saying.

I just found the contrast amusing…

So, when I’m not battling respiratory infections, dealing with stupid telephone companies, fighting with computers, arguing with very large publishers about compensation for their use-without-permission of things I wrote, or otherwise being productive, I’ve been writing fiction.

It’s not very good, but it’s cheap.

Anyway, my latest novel is now available for the Kindle, if that’s your thing – you can grab a copy here, if you like sex, drugs, and environmental terrorism. There’s also a paperback edition, which makes a great gift for the people in your life who like sex, drugs, and environmental terrorism. It’s available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, et cetera. People outside the United States can get a copy right here for less than ten dollars, with free worldwide shipping.
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I think we can all agree that the 1960s were a strange period in history, defined by the music, the fashion, the politics, the war, the social revolution, and the general overall strangeness. Nowhere is this better exemplified than the “New Wave” of science fiction authors who came to the forefront in the latter part of the decade…

No, wait, wrong essay.

Nowhere, in fact, is this better exemplified than the arts and crafts of the period, which remain strangely fascinating in a so-terrible-it’s-kitschy sort of way. Amid all the things we remember from crafts of the ’60s – the yarn, the yarn! – it’s interesting to stumble across things which have been damned near erased from the collective consciousness.

Take, for instance, Flemish Flower Dipping, an incredibly 1960s way of taking fake plastic flowers and… well, uglifying them, let’s be honest:
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