Science Fiction. Progressive Christianity. And Other Improbable Optimisms.
Monday, May 03, 2010
Harley's eleven years old today. He was very irritated by my efforts to get birthday pictures of him, but I finally got this shot of him curled up in one of his favorite boxes. Note the amusing paw positions.
SF/fantasy writer. English professor. Episcopalian. Licensed lay preacher. Hospital volunteer offering spiritual care in the ER. Spinner, weaver, knitter.
And a few other things, less easily labeled. The title of this blog is a phrase John Clute used to describe the plots of my first two novels. It both amused and annoyed me, and I finally decided to reclaim it as a badge of honor. Would you prefer rickety contrivances of doing bad?