Willie_W at Second Life

Made up an avatar of myself for fun in Second Life. Those who know me, see what you think.

Call for Writers at Kobold Quarterly

Editor of new roleplaying magazine, Kobold Quarterly, Wolfgang Baur, held a question and answer session in Second Life at the weekend.

The meeting, attended by guests from the roleplaying, sci-fi and mainstream media was held at Third Life Styles, the Home of Third Life Books in the region of Beraudes.

The periodical, which was launched to fill the void left by the late Dragon magazine, caters for the Dungeons & Dragons game and is available in both PDF download and in a paper edition.

Its editor is a veteran of the roleplaying industry and edited Dungeon Magazine when it was owned by TSR Inc. He later worked for Wizards of the Coast. Other projects include Open Design, whose adventure scenarios are created with input from patrons who receive exclusive finished works in return for modest financial support.

Wolfgang said: "Kobold Quarterly is a magazine aimed at fantasy roleplayers, in particular D&D and tabletop gamers. There's also room for alternate history, real-world medieval facts and myths, and similar material. Most of it, though, is aimed at playable material for any reader's homebrewed fantasy setting. Naturally, I need writers and artists and, oh yes, subscribers."

"Every magazine needs its regulars, and you might be among the early adopters for KQ. One of the realities of the markets is that they're always changing. Since Kobold Quarterly is new, it's a lot easier to impress the editor than it would be in a couple years. So, if you are interested in the writing end of things, I'd encourage you to step up to the query letters early."

In answer to a query about whether or not the magazine would accept fiction, he said:

"Right now, I am not looking at a separate fiction slush pile. I'm taking nonfiction, game articles, and eventually adventure scenarios. Length [for nonfiction and game articles] should be from 1,500 to 3,000 words, unless you query something else in advance."

The magazine is also to publish roleplaying scenarios at about 8,000 words in length.

"The first of those will happen late this year," he said.

"The easiest way to impress an editor is to put everything in place before the editor has to ask That is, an exciting pitch, or a new spin on a topic that the readership loves. This shows you know the audience. Then, assuming your query is approved, delivering at the requested length and on time.

"I'm always shocked at the number of queries I accept that never come back with a completed article. And even more shocked that writers regularly leave basic things like their name and address off a manuscript."

When asked if a good knowledge of the Dungeons & Dragons game was required, Wolfgang answered:

"It would definitely help, but I'm also taking articles that do a broader view of fantasy and myth. Nonfiction summaries of a particular element (say, castles or sieges) would be great.

"Actually, because D&D is currently shifting to a new edition (ships in June), now's a good time to pitch something that ISN'T specific to the rules."

On magazine art, he said: "I'm always looking for artists, though I say that with some hesitation. The magazine is too small for an art director, so.... Let's just say my bandwidth for art is limited."

"Previous editions of the magazine are available from koboldquarterly.com There's PDF versions and print as well. Ok, the print is largely sold out. The PDFs are still out there for readers overseas (whose mailing costs would be prohibitive) and for those who just don't want paper. I've found [PDFs] a great way to get the issue out in full color, long before the paper version could support that."

Eurovision 2008 preliminaries off to a flying (or at least a feathered) start

Following Ireland's last place finish with 5 points in the 2007 Eurovision song contest, the national broadcaster, RTÉ, is arranging the final preliminary round of choosing an Irish entrant for the 2008 contest. The final, to which the lucky entrant will be sent, is to be held in Belgrade, Serbia, on Saturday May 24th.

A controversial entrant is the puppet, Dustin the Turkey, whose presence in the competitions led to a short debate on the political television programme, Questions & Answers.

For those interested in following Irelands' and other countries' shortlisting and voting results, the site All Kinds of Everything has a very interesting blog and an extensive News section.

From The Irish Times:

"In the past some unkind critics have described Ireland's entries in the Eurovision as turkeys but this year we could actually have a turkey performing our entry.

"The Irish final will be held on February 23rd when the public decides who will represent Ireland at the Eurovision semi-final in Serbia in May. Already the turkey has ruffled feathers with one Eurovision fans' website reporting that Dustin is in the running, with the headline "Puppet to Mock Eurovision?"

"The Dublin turkey has an impressive CV, having run for president of Ireland, recorded with Bob Geldof and made a career out of insulting Pat Kenny and mocking Leitrim. But the puppet will have to pull some strings if he wants to make it to Belgrade. Bill Hughes, chairman of the judging panel, said Irish voters would have a very strong field to choose from.

"The other songs are:
Double Cross My Heart, performed by Donal Skehan and composed by Joel Humlén, Oscar Gorres and Charlie Mason; Time to Rise, performed by Maya and composed by Maja Slatinsek and Ziga Pirnat; Not Crazy After All, performed by Leona Daly and composed by Leona Daly and Steve Booker; Sometimes, performed by Liam Geddes and written by Susan Hewitt; and Chances, written and performed by Marc Roberts, who came second in the 1997 Eurovision Song Contest.

"Mr Hughes said the panel did not choose Dustin's song in a flippant manner. "We did think seriously about it but once we heard it and we all laughed so much we decided it was worth including."

"Ireland had never entered a novelty or humorous song before, he said, and it was just one of six songs for the public to choose from. John Waters, who co-wrote last year's Irish entry, was not getting into a flap over the prospect that his successor could be a turkey. "Don't forget that we are talking about the Eurovision. It's fun, it's kitsch and nobody takes it all that seriously," he said.

"He may have come last, but Waters believes that the turkey cannot lose, because of his novelty value. "If Dustin wins it's a victory and if he comes last it's a victory. The worst thing would be if Dustin came second-last. That would be failure as we would have beaten him." Dustin's election campaigns included promises such as bringing the Dart to Dingle, but he will have to step up his game as he bids for Eurovision glory. The only problem is, will Europe understand him when he shouts his catchphrase "Go on ya good ting"?"

Why the cat smells marmalade on my leg

I've a head-cold.
Herself has a dicky shoulder.
The weather has been Arctic cold.
This morning Herself knocked over one of our small, cheap, glass salt cellars and broke it into pieces. Bad luck was definitely supposed to follow.
As I'd been promising Herself we'd get one, we bought a small, flat-screen telly for the kitchen today and I couldn't get the thing to tune in until I disconnected all the cables from the grown-up telly and DVD and video player and the digital box and the PC and possibly the service for the whole road. But it tuned in, eventually.
In the meantime, Herself did everything possible to find jobs that would aggravate her sore shoulder.
"Aaargh!" She shouted from upstairs.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm washing the bathroom floor."
I watched the snow on the screen and pressed another button.
"Use the other arm," I said.
There were barely audible murmurings from somewhere upstairs.
There was a twanging, crashing noise from the landing.
"What was that?" I shouted up, as a fuzzy Irish rugby team made heavy work of defeating burly, blurry-blue Italians.
"Clothes horse," came the reply. "I'm putting clothes on the bannisters to dry."
"Use the other arm," I said. "By the way... Did you tell the doctor about that shoulder?"
"No."
"I see."
I fiddled with coaxial cable and started tacking staples into the side of the door saddle. The vacuum cleaner started up somewhere behind me.
"Aaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa-aargh!"
I stopped tapping, momentarily.
"What is it?"
"My shoulder! I can't finish the hoovering! It hurts!"
"Leave the hoovering then!"
"I can't!"
"Why not?"
"Because it's Saturday. I have to have the house clean on Saturday."
"Okay, I'll finish the hoovering later."
I tapped in some more staples, crawling about on the tiled floor, backing into the dining room and bumping against chairs and one hot radiator.
I hear another "Aaaargh!"
"What....?"
"I'm mopping the living room floor. The bucket is heavy and hurts my shoulder when I pick it up!"
"Use the other hand to pick it up then."
Sweat is dripping onto the floor as I pull cable along behind the radiator, twist it in behind the computer desk and twiddle it under the dining room door into the living room and the TV signal outlet box.
I say:
"Have you taken any anti-inflammatories?"
"No."
I plug in the plug and the picture tunes in on Herself's new early-morning putting-on-makeup-in-the-kitchen piece of telly technology.
I say:
"It's working."
Herself meets me in the kitchen and reaching for a glass of lemonade with her right hand -- the one that is attached to the arm that is swinging on the dodgy shoulder -- she knocks it all over the counter. She says something nasty and starts mopping up the spill.
I pass her the rolling pin. She's going to make a meat pie for dinner if it kills us both.
Opening a cupboard (with her right hand, the one that has the dodgy shoulder) she ducks as a half pot of marmalade sails out and falls to its death on the floor tiles below. Apart from the bits of glass glued together by the marmalade, the rest of it goes into a hundred little pieces that scatter all over the place. A large wodge of peel sticks to the side of my leg. We stand looking at it as it slowly slides down the cuff of my trousers, slithers down my boot and finally comes to rest.
"You know," I say. "It's been that kind of day, hasn't it?"
"Yes," she says, through gritted teeth.
Pastry gets a pounding with the occasional accompaniment of a loud
"Aaargh!"