We started the theater season over the weekend, attending a production of Ben Jonson's THE ALCHEMIST at the Shakespeare Theater.  The show was ... unsuccessful.

There *was* a great visual gag at the beginning, with a fake wall that hid the "real" set for the show, and the contrast was emphasized with a musical cue.  The real set was beautifully crafted, with two levels and an impressive staircase.  The costumes were numerous and varied and visually stunning.

But the play was about as subtle as a 2x4 to the side of the head.

Sure, in Jacobean drama, you don't expect the most delicate of character development.  When a character is named Tribulation Wholesome, you sort of know that he's not going to be your favorite preacher of all time. 

But the company did *nothing* to bring out the finer points in the script; there was no character analysis, no analysis of the story in any way shape or form.  Every comic bit was painted with the broadest brush possible.  While the script was updated to include references to golf clubs and Viagra, no one thought to explain why the bathroom in the swanky London townhouse was as foul as a Jacobean midden.

That was the problem (no, not the stench) - no one *thought* about the show, from beginning to end.

THE ALCHEMIST was a late addition to the season, when another show was deemed not ready for prime time.  I suspect that the rush to bring this one to market resulted in too many designer meetings and not enough rehearsal time.

Oh well - the rest of the season is bound to be better!  (And those costumes were truly remarkable!)

Mindy, heading back into the cave of Author Alterations (last editing stage for WHEN GOOD WISHES GO BAD)

I have to spend a significant chunk of today with the lovely folks at VA, so I'll direct everyone looking for social commentary to my last post, since I have no idea if I'll get back to the internet today. I'm supposed to be going to some networking event tonight, but I'm not sure I'll have the wherewithal to make with the chit chat after 8 hours with the government. I need to hash out some things with all three books and get cracking on Mu. Maybe while I play hurry up and wait, inspiration will strike and I'll get some fiction out of my brain. What are you up to today?

Tweets copied by twittinesis.com

Poll #1483313 Domain name
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 20

Best domain name for meeee.

http://www.snopes.com/politics/obama/birthers/carter.asp

I had a good teacher experience today.

The school I visited today is one of the two I can walk to from my home. On walking days I get to relax a bit because I don’t have to take the train to city hall first. For once I wouldn’t be getting a ride from the school either and had been requested to find my own way back to city hall. Leisurely walk to the station, Indian curry for lunch, and a train to city hall! Yay! Even time for coffee.

This morning Mr. West called and said my support staff worker would be out sick, so I would be working with the homeroom teachers. He also said this meant no pre-class hou-long meeting with the support staff so I could relax and chill for an extra 50 minutes at home.

The lesson plans I’ve drafted are for three teachers…although making solo lesson plans would be easier for me, the support staff and homeroom teachers wouldn’t learn from participating if I rolled that way. I also wouldn’t be able to asses their skills and weaknesses if it was all me all the time.When my support staff is out or the schools bring me in on a day when they are not there, the homeroom teachers must play a larger role. My problems and triumphs this week and last were at schools where I don’t present with the support staff.

I was slated to teach 4^th graders one of my original lessons about seasons ( well: seasons, holidays, months, birthdays and images). It’s pretty easy and the kids enjoy it because it’s fairly easy for them to catch onto how to respond and participate.

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

I just wanted to annoy sacwentie with this icon.

Toodles!

DAW’s 30th Anniversary Anthology: Science Fiction

Edited by Elizabeth Wollheim and Sheila Gilbert

Introduction by Betsy Wollheim and Sheila Gilbert: Normally I don’t find much of value in the introduction except perhaps the initial idea behind the anthology (which I then use to judge whether or not the authors stuck to that idea, deviated from it, or did something incredibly cool and unexpected with it). This time, though, the introduction actually gives you some incredibly interesting history on how DAW came to be and how it got to where it is right now, with Betsy and Sheila as editors. Perhaps this is more interesting to me than it would be to others, since I’m a DAW author myself, but I honestly think this introduction is as interesting, or more interesting, than some of the stories in the anthology (no offense to those authors). I’d definitely suggest reading it.

The Home Front by Brian Stableford: This is kind of an economic story actually, set in the future. The world is being terrorized biologically speaking and we fight back using . . . potatoes. That makes the story sound silly and it’s much more serious than that, and in the end the story isn’t really about terrorism but how we as humans behave and react to terrorism (especially the biological kind, which can’t really be seen). An interesting story.

Aboard the Beatitude by Brian W. Aldiss: OK, I have to admit that I . . . didn’t get this story. The Beatitude is a FTL ship and the story seems to be exploring some of the affects that FTL might induce on the crew and such. There are also some ambiguous moral issues brought up, since the crew of the ship needs exorbitant amounts of energy to work and it gets that energy by destroying worlds it passes in its flight, some of which are inhabited. But in the end, I just didn’t get the intent behind this story. It’s probably just that I’m not the reader it was intended for.

Odd Job #213 by Ron Goulart: This story was simply fun! The idea is that two private investigators are hired by an android cat to find out what happened to its maker. Hilarity ensues in a tongue-in-cheek kind of serious way. However, reading this story I got the impression that the story wasn’t really meant for the short form and that it should have been developed more. I would like to have seen this as a novel. (And as an aside, there are books out there now, not by Ron Goulart, that are in the same vein as this story.)

Agamemnon’s Run by Robert Sheckley: This was an interesting story about unnamed aliens that get us humans to act out old battles, myths, etc. We’re supposed to follow the “history” if we’re chosen to be one of the participants, especially the “named” participants, like Agamemnon. But they also like it if we can figure out how to change the outcomes. The idea was interesting, but I’m not sure that the story worked as a whole for me. It felt like it needed a little more development.

Grubber by Neal Barrett, Jr.: This story was incredibly interesting, starting off with an alien creature. We end up experiencing this creatures growth to adulthood, through their rather alien eyes. Because of this, it’s a little hard to get into at first, because we’re seeing things through those alien eyes, but as you read you settle into the new perspective. A great story, in my opinion.

The Sandman, the Tinman, and the Bettyb by C.J. Cherryh: And this was another great story. It begins with a man (the Sandman) alone on a ship watching a part of space that has little to no action in general. Of course, action ensues. It’s not “end of the universe” action—an ancient missile fired eons ago is heading toward a space station—but it doesn’t need to be for a short story. The efforts to stop the missile by the people that most of those on the station have forgotten or could care less about is spectacular.

The Big Picture by Timothy Zahn: This was also a good story, about a man on a space station whose friend went “undercover” on the planet below and subsequently vanished. A reporter shows up to find out what happened. An interesting twist in the end, but it’s more about the man and his interactions with the reporter that are interesting to me.

A Home for the Old Ones by Frederik Pohl: This story is obviously set in the world the Pohl created for his books, and there are some assumptions that the reader has already had a background in that universe. I haven’t read that, but the story was still enjoyable. My only problem with it is that it didn’t feel like it ended. I felt like this was a scene or backstory for something that happened in the previous books that those who’ve read it would be interested in and would see where it “fit” into that universe . . . but for someone like me who hasn’t read the previous stuff . . . it just doesn’t feel whole.

Not With a Whimper, Either by Tad Williams: An interesting story here that will make you look at your computer and your chat sessions and IMs and boards and such in a different light. I generally like Tad Williams’ work and this was no exception. It’s written entirely as a chat session on a board between . . . well, geeks . . . and something else. It takes a little while to get used to the format and such, but definitely an enjoyable read.

The Black Wall of Jerusalem by Ian Watson: This one got off to a rocky start for me. The first few sections were just confusing and I couldn’t get into the story. But then it settled and I found myself wondering about this Black Wall and such. The group and the main character of the story ended up being much more interesting than I’d originally thought, and the idea behind the Black Wall also intriguing. I felt there could be more done with this Wall . . . and what was behind it.

Station Ganymede by Charles L. Harness: This story was instantly engaging, with a father and son conflict being played out on a station investigating and doing research over Jupiter. The science was interesting, if a little “soft” in some aspects. The action was predictable (I could see the shape of the story once the key element was introduced) but it was still highly enjoyable. And the relationship changes in the two main characters were perfect, I thought.

Downtime by C.S. Friedman: An intensely interesting story, with an idea regarding where our near future society could be going with some of our technology that’s both subtly horrifying and instantly controversial. I like the fact that C.S. Friedman presents us with both sides of the controversy and idea and, in the end, doesn’t leave us with a nice solid “answer” to the problem. You can see both sides of the human element to the science—why some would hate and fear the technology and the laws that surround it, and others (those on the receiving end) would . . . well, at least appreciate it. I can see this as something our society may have to contend with shortly. Although I’m not sure that the laws in the story that arise around the technology would actually get passed by us. I guess we’ll see, won’t we?

Burning Bridges by Charles Ingrid: This story takes us to a new world and culture and is really a kind of spy/action story, the main character attempting to clear a blood debt, although he’s being forced into it by some rather nasty individuals. The real question is who’s playing who, and who really has the upper hand. Based on the intro, this is set in a world that readers of Charles Ingrid will recognize. Perhaps they’d recognize the main character as well. I haven’t read any of Charles Ingrid’s novels, so this was a brand new world for me, and I found it intriguing. In fact, when I finished, I announced to the world in general that, “I think I’ll have to get some of Charles Ingrid’s books.” *grin* I’d certainly like to learn more about this world.

Words by Cheryl J. Franklin: I’ve never read anything by Cheryl J. Franklin, although I think I have one of her books on my TBR stack. So this was my first introduction to her writing. This is a story about an unsocial security systems specialist who helps out the police and on one particular case she is forced to be a little more social than normal when she takes in the victim’s cat. It’s a nice story with a rather uneasy commentary on how we view our own pets . . . and perhaps how they view us.

Read Only Memory by eluki bes shahar: I’ve never read anything by this author either and by the intro it seems this story is an introduction to the world she uses in her books. Some of the references I didn’t get, but the story itself was easy to follow. Essentially, the main character is drawn into middle of a dangerous game of power and archeology over an artifact called a Library. But the books in this Library aren’t what they seem . . . and neither is the main character.

Sunseeker by Kate Elliott: This story is set in the Jaran universe, although it’s set on Earth. The base story is about a solar ship called the Sunseeker and the group of spoiled young adults from various wealthy families that travel around in it for promotional purposes for the solar array that powers it. But when the ship lands to see an archeological site, it’s attacked. But the REAL story is about one of the young adults and her relationship with her father.

The Heavens Fall by S. Andrew Swann: This is a rather interesting story about a form of punishment called “empathy treatment” that, in the near future, is used to punish convicted criminals. The idea is to force them to relive their victim’s last moments as if they were the victim themselves. Of course, this punishment has some flaws and in this particular story goes horribly wrong. A nice cautionary tale about a seemingly simple and “harmless” technology and how it could be misused.

Passage to Shola by Lisanne Norman: I’ve never read anything by Lisanne Norman and this story introduces you to her world. The main characters are actually aliens here, with Humans being a minority species, with the ability to psychically bond to other alien species. In this story, a bonded Human and alien at the teen age are being transported to a new city by the main character . . . and things go horribly wrong when their ship is hijacked by a vicious—and hungry—alien.

Prism by Julie E. Czerneda: This is another story in which the main character is an alien so far removed from human that, at times, it can be hard to understand and follow her. Julie E. Czerneda is very good at getting across the alien-ness though, probably because of her biological background. Here, we meet two bizarre alien creatures, although the real story is about one of the creatures growing from childhood to the beginnings of adulthood.

Overall, I thought this anthology was stronger than the companion fantasy anthology I’ve already reviewed. I’ve bolded the two titles that I thought were the strongest in this anthology, but I have to say that nearly all of the stories were interesting and well-written. One of the strongest of the DAW anthologies I’ve read so far.

Someday someone will explain to me this fascination America has with the idea that Michelle Obama has white relatives like it's remotely unusual for a descendant of slaves in America. I notice with all the talk of "So and so was impregnated by X slaveowner" and the rush to interview the white relatives so they can say the obligatory "I'd love to reunite with that side of the family and talk about our history" no one discusses exactly how so many mulattoes came to be born during and after slavery. I know the story of the relationship between Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings has been played as very romantic, but I sincerely doubt that even if it was that way for them, the same is true of Michelle Obama's great great great grandmother's relationship with the man that bought her when she was 6 and impregnated her at 15.

I know romance has nothing to do with why my maiden name is Irish. The slaveowner on that side kept very detailed records of everything. Including Or why my grandmother's mother had straight hair. My great great grandfather raised her (and presumably loved her) anyway, but there's some pretty clear evidence in the records that their reasons for moving north to Chicago weren't based on a desire to leave the farm land that he worked so hard to acquire and hold onto through Reconstruction. My great grandmother was born in 1894 and she's listed as mulatto, but her parents are listed as black. It's on that list of things that was never explicitly discussed, but no one in our family is laboring under the delusion that the way she got here was about romance you know?

The power dynamic between slave and slaveowner is almost never recognized in these romanticized revisionist histories, much less what it meant to be a WOC assaulted and impregnated by a white man in a society where you had no hope of him ever facing anything approximating justice. There's a lot of talk about how long ago slavery ended, but there's not a lot of talk about the impact it, (and all the events that followed) have had on family dynamics in the black community. Or the psychological effects of institutional racism in any community. Even here there's no discussion of how the white relatives feel when the new found cousin isn't the First Lady. Because let me tell you what, our Irish relatives weren't so excited when we found them. A whole lot of those "Cherokee" relatives people like to claim weren't NDN, but it was a convenient lie for white families looking to avoid the stigma of having been touched by the tarbrush.

I blog a lot about sociology, critical race theory, and history. I'm not alone, after all there's tons of research being done in those areas. Not so much when it comes to the psychological effects of racism on an individual level. It's difficult enough to talk about being a POC and what we deal with as a result of modern institutional racism without trying to articulate the generational emotional and physical trauma of living in a society that's innately hostile to your very existence. There's been some work done but it's not an area that's easy to navigate academically or socially. Because really when you're talking about these kinds of family stories it's easier to smile politely and just not discuss it than to dig up all those bones and really face the pain.

There's such a stigma attached to seeking mental health assistance (including some very specific intra-community impediments) that I can completely understand why this is the proverbial elephant in the room when it comes to discussing race and racism. But (like all the other aspects) it's one that cannot be ignored. Because even when it's not acknowledged the fact remains that racism has an impact on every aspect of life. Everything from parenting choices, to jobs, to housing, to how our communities function is impacted by this huge awful weight and that doesn't happen in some emotionless vacuum. Even the "positive" stereotypes are hurtful because they're rooted in deeply ugly historical and social context. Is it really so difficult to at least consider the psychological impact of that kind of ongoing trauma might be beyond the grasp of the casual observer?

( You are about to view content that may not be appropriate for minors. )

There are about thirty-two hours to go in the sale. I should be putting up the photos of the color-sorted bead bags and the rest of the dinosaur bone beads, but instead I got restless and did that thing I usually do around this time in a big clearance sale: marked down a few things. OK, more than a few things.

Let's just say that if you like Beau Hawn beads, Karl & Krista Tseu beads, or a few other gorgeous specimens of lampwork in your earrings, this next thirty-two hours would be a rare opportunity, because they don't get marked down to thirty bucks very often.

OK, now I am going to have my snack and then I'll get the rest of those bead packages up.

I just want to mark the fact that as of today we have a new cabinet: http://qifanabki.com/2009/11/09/lebanon-cabinet-lineup/
It only took 5 months *g* Better than the 8 months it took (or so I remember) to get a president!

I'm not going to comment on it because I've stayed away from the news ever since the elections.

2222 words on Grail today, finished chapter one and started chapter two, and in a minute here I have to eat something and then go swim and then go over to a friend's house and have tea and borrow the fax machine. The days are just packed, I tell you.

Last night, I got about 1600 words on Shadow Unit related material, which I logged for today because I had already posted.

Yep. I am mighty. I have no idea what's happening in this book, except people are sitting around eating and worrying about each other, but I have faith, It'll all come right in the end.

Mean things today: kids grow up, and Tristen never gets to be anybody's daddy for long.

Also, giant freshwater space salmon.

I've answered about a jillion questions over at Bitten By Books, and I'm fielding gazillions more in comments.  Stop by!  Read the Q&A!  Add more Qs!  Comment now, for a chance to win valuable prizes!

http://bittenbybooks.com/?p=12737

Mindy, busily typing away...

Declaimer: anyone coming here after seeing this blog listed in the Pioneer Press article, please note this is my *journal*. I write about myself. Self-indulgently. And my kids. My cats. My fish. I am NOT INTERESTING. These posts have no point, no entertainment value. If you're looking for that, go elsewhere.

That being said, here's my blog:

---------------

A full weekend, my friends. Friday, Shawn took the day off, and we had a date day, though it ended up mostly a drive around town kind of day.

We got her haircut in Edina, drove to Roseville for lunch at our guilty pleasure: Red Lobster. Then, I sat at a Borders Cafe and surfed while Shawn checked for cute shoes at DSW. (Sadly, not more than one pair of cute, and for work, not pleasure.) We picked up photos from Walgreen's and Mason from school and rushed home so he and Shawn could have diner, and then I took off back to Minneapolis to coordinate with Steve and family and trailer who'd agreed help haul home a dresser that friends gave us. There was much hauling and grunting and breaking (but Shawn was able to fix everything) that culminated in a well-deserved, albeit impromptu LEGO date back at ours.

On Saturday, Mason ran away from home. Again.

This time, he was affronted by the fact that his mother and I insisted he eat “growing food” before having more Halloween candy. When we were forced to put the candy bowl in an unreachable place, he decided he could no longer stand to live here. He packed several books, a blanket, and a pillow. As he's not allowed to cross the street, he stomped off until he was just out of sight around the corner and lay his blanket out on the sidewalk and started reading.

Mason runs away a lot. This is the first time he's thought to pack for it, however. Apparently, while packing, he and mama discussed how much food he should bring. She suggested there would be more room for books if he just came home when he was hungry, and Mason being who he is, decided this was an excellent solution.

So no longer mad but ready for adventure, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and found a sunny spot on the sidewalk to spend several hours “running away.” I had been doing the dishes during a lot of this, but then decided I could kind of keep an eye out for our little run away while finally finishing raking the leaves out front.

We have a huge Maple on our hill that traditionally waits until the last possible moment before dumping all its gigantic yellow leaves. I'm often the last person on the block who needs to rake. This year was no exception. I raked and put heaps of leaves into our red wheelbarrow, and then rolled it around the block to dump into our backyard for later bagging or composting. (Going around is much easier than trying to push it back up our steep hill, though I think my neighbors thought it quite queer to see me hauling leaves around and around the block.) What was striking to me, however, was the absence of said neighbors. Despite sun and warm temps, we were the only ones out doing yard work.

Anyway, while I was raking, one of the “geezers” stopped by to talk.

There are these two really ancient guys that always briskly walk through the neighborhood every single day. They're hunched over and shuffling. They always look grumpy as hell, and, often, when I attempt to wave hello or sing a cheery “good morning,” they glare at me out from under bushy, white eyebrows. Since we see them every day, Shawn and I have dubbed them “the geezers.”

That day, the younger of the two actually called out a hello and asked if we were the parents of the little girl up at the corner of the block. I didn't correct the geezer at first because, well, he was TALKING to me and SMILING and I wanted to encourage this. (Mason, however, doesn't *not* look at all like a girl. His hair is cut in a buzz, and he dresses relatively boyish. But, I suppose if you were blind as a bat, as I suspect these guys might be, his voice is high pitched and he's awfully articulate, a trait many people associate with girls rather than boys. ) Anyway, the younger geezer goes on to tell us (Shawn had come out by this time) how enchanted he was with Mason, who we've by now explained is a boy, because he was just so charming lying in the middle of the sidewalk. The geezer said, in fact, that in the sun, Mason looked just like an angel.

How nice!

It was both the longest and the most pleasant conversation we ever had with either of them, and, as I told Shawn, when he walked away that I wondered if this meant that they had finally forgiven us for moving into Old Man Windy's house (for years people in the neighborhood gave us the business for having gotten rid of Old Man Windy's rotten, but apparently legendary, couch off our porch.)

At lunch time, Mason came back with a report about his adventure. He'd seen a Slumberland delivery truck bring a new bed to someone, another neighbor out walking her dog, and had a nice old guy talk to him. He sat on our newly raked boulevard and kept reading for a while, while I finished up, and then we all went in for sandwiches.

He later said, “It's nice being on your own sometimes, isn't it?”

It is, indeed.

Sunday was the day of projects. Mason decided he wanted to start a quilt as well as work on the LEGO Millennium Falcon. Mama and I had decided Sunday would be our semi-regular roasted chicken with all the trimmings diner. So I made bread while they sewed and sorted.

All and all a good weekend.

We had a birthday party for Rachel this weekend, Friday night into Saturday. She invited 4 friends over (Madeleine, Courtney, Emma, and Emily B., I note for future reference). Emily B. could not stay overnight, but the others did. We got some Falbo Bros. pizza, they painted each others' nails and did each others' hair--no, really, they did--they watched "Monsters vs. Aliens" and then we attempted to get them to sleep by popping in "The Tale of Despereaux," but no go. I was awakened at midnight by a cadre of girls who apparently all had to go to the bathroom, and had freaked each other out by telling scary stories. They were "sleeping" downstairs, but they had taken the blanket that was covering the window down, and they thought they saw something! Eek!

Matt found them at 2:30 in the morning watching TV in the living room and sent them back to bed, again; we assume they fell asleep shortly thereafter. They were up again and watching TV at 6:30, though.

After they got dressed, they decided to rake up some leaves into a pile and jump into them. Sammi had been dispatched to another friend's house by this time, which was for the best, because Rachel had announced that "Sammi ruins everything!" and made Sammi cry. (I had sympathy for both of their causes.)

The big girls started on the leaves in the backyard, but I warned them away from that--fear of dog leavings on their shoes--and sent them into the front yard. They didn't quite get the message, though; they started filling up our wagon with armfuls of leaves from the backyard and giving the leaves, and Piper, a ride to the leaf pile in the front yard.

The leaves were jumped in, of course. The also played some hide and seek, with hiding places including "inside the pile of leaves" and "in our window well."

I believe they all had a good time. Hopefully this party will go down in the annals of history as "That one fun party at Rachel's place" and not "the one where Rachel's mom had no idea how to make the friendship bracelet kit that Emma gave her."

It was a good one. There was dancing on Friday night (earplugs; must remember to bring them) and visiting with the Loresinger. Dancing was awesomely fun -- relaxed atmosphere, cool music, fun friends. I approved.

Saturday, the Rat and I split child-care duties and he took the Bit to soccer while I studied Spanish and did lazy chores around the house. Then I dragged the kiddo off to the Abernathy Arts Festival so he could have some alone time as well. New Art!

Sunday was errand and relaxation day. We hung out with folks, ran some errands and I did pictures. Pictures.

Here are some links to my favorites.

Fourth of July Sparklers
Splash Pools
Birthday slip and slide.
More water fun.
This will be used as blackmail material when they're older.
Cat and child caught in sunbeam. News at 11:00.
The Princess Reflects on Halloween.
Who me? Mug for the camera? Oh, okay!

Me: (noticing the decapitated head of Snow White lying on the dining room table): Oh no, what happened to Snow White?
Alex: I was taking off her cape and her head came off.
Me: Poor Snow White!
Alex: It's okay. I'm having lots of fun with her head, pretending that she's Anne Boleyn and stuff."

A little while back, I made comment about having a storyline for my next book, but not a plot. I have since realized that may be causing some people to scratch their heads as to what the difference is between the two. Then again, maybe no one is wondering. I don't know. But, for the sake of the narrative ploy, let's assume that at least one of the five people who read this blog regularly are, indeed, perplexed, and not merely plagued by dry scalp.

I'll start out by saying that the definition, and therefore the difference, between storyline and plot is going to vary by writer. For some, it is essentially one and the same beastie; for others, there can be a big difference. As for me, well...

When I say storyline, I am talking about the overall arc of the narrative. (In fact, "story arc" would be another way of putting it.) So, when I say I have a storyline, I am saying that I have an idea of not only what the story is going to be about (plot-ish), but also how it is going to unfold over the length of the telling. I know most of the key players, I know what at least a few of them want, I know how what happens will impact them, and I have some idea how it will resolve itself. Mostly. Sort of.

Does this mean I have the fabled Beginning, Middle and End? Not quite: what I have is an idea of what comes first, know a few things that need to happen on the way, and a basic idea where things will end up. I know where the story is going in a general sense, but I don't yet have all the dips and curves in the road mapped out, let alone know all the stops I will need to make on the way.

But -- and this is the important part -- I know what the story is about. Not thematically, but intellectually/creatively. I know that all of the action, all of the plot I develop, all of the victories and defeats I throw at my characters, have to lead towards a couple of specific goals. I know that certain things must happen, and have an idea of the order they must happen in. In short, I know the story -- well enough that, if I had to, I could probably throw together a back of the book teaser for the reader. (Note: I am not saying this teaser would still necessarily be valid by the time I am done with the book. Things change as you plot and write the work itself.)

So how is this different (for me) from plot? Good question, and one I think I will come back to in my next post. :)