One hundred million years ago, a shrew-like creature got infected with a retrovirus, eventually leading to the placenta and, by extension, the reason why we don’t lay eggs.
I recently had an article featured in the Winter 2024 edition of Review Tales. (I’d share the essay but unfortunately it’s not freely available.) If you click through the magazine links, you’ll see my article highlighted in the bottom right-hand corner of the cover. I’m writing about something with which I am all too familiar! “When the Muse Takes a Holiday.”
I will say that the promotional elements of creative work can be a little challenging. I’ve never been that comfortable talking about myself.
It’s not about me, I want to say. Art is about us, and the world we create together.
“It can seem like it’s about, Look at me! Like me! Approve of me!’, but I think it’s really about finding your people. It’s about connections, especially when you grow up feeling different and like you don’t have a community. Through art, you’re able to find that community, which is a wonderful thing.”
— Maya Erskine, on why she’s drawn to acting despite “a childhood in which she desperately wanted to blend in”
If you’ve seen any space news this past week, you may already know that Ingenuity, the adorable little helicopter that has exceeded all expectations in its exploration of Mars, has ended its mission.
Originally designed as a technology demonstration to perform up to five experimental test flights over 30 days, the first aircraft on another world operated from the Martian surface for almost three years, performed 72 flights, and flew more than 14 times farther than planned while logging more than two hours of total flight time.
Ingenuity arrived on Mars with the Perseverance rover almost two years ago. It began as a limited technology demonstration but quickly became a scout for the rover’s mission and a fan favorite. Now, after 72 flights, a difficult landing has caused irreparable damage to its rotor blades.
Here’s what NASA Administrator Bill Nelson had to say about the end, and what the plucky little project managed to accomplish.
After a number of technical issues, overlapping assignments, and a mashup of meetings, I’ve finished a big day-job project. I’ve got to say, it feels good.
Not “go out and party” good, more like “take a deep breath and shake off all that accumulated stress” good. Forest bathing good.
What’s that, you may ask?
Essentially, forest bathing (or shinrin-yoku in Japanese) is a walk in the woods designed to reconnect you with nature in ways that are beneficial for your health.
Spending time in nature and experiencing reduced stress levels allows you to think more clearly and creatively. It can also increase your mood, focus, and energy.
Sounds good, right? Except that there’s a coating of ice on everything thanks to last night’s storm and I still have work to do and (let’s be honest) it’s freezing out there!
So instead, I will find another way to spend a few moments in the forest.
Grist’s Imagine 2200: Climate Fiction for Future Ancestors short story contest celebrates stories that offer vivid, hope-filled, diverse visions of climate progress. From 1,000 submissions, our reviewers and judges selected the three winners and nine finalists you will discover in this collection. These stories are not afraid to explore the challenges ahead, but offer hope that we can work together to build a more sustainable and just world. Through rich characters, lovingly sketched settings, and gripping plots, they welcome you into futures that celebrate who we are and what we can become — and, we hope, inspire you to work toward them.
When I’m reading and see a word that’s unfamiliar, I like to look it up. This weekend, that word was “tonitruous.” I ran across it while reading book three in The Salvagers series by Alex White: The Worst of All Possible Worlds.
Never heard of it? Neither had I. Neither had my Kobo’s dictionary, which is unusual. It was time to dig deeper.
Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the answer to everything. To “Why am I here?” To uselessness. It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down, to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus.
— Enid Bagnold (1889–1981), British novelist, playwright
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