Monthly Archives: October 2012

Kage Baker loved Halloween. It was her favourite holiday – even more than Christmas. What she loved most about it was the air of nocturnal license, I think. Kage was thoroughly diurnal, and not usually given to running about in … Continue reading →

Kage Baker, while one of those people who could not read or follow a clock to save her soul, nonetheless had a weirdly accurate innate calender function. I think it was like the directions thing – she couldn’t tell left … Continue reading →

Kage Baker would have rolled her eyes, flapped her hands and written off today. It’s been a bitch. I have a head ache, a stomach ache, fever chills and cramps in all my arms and legs. I have no idea … Continue reading →

Kage Baker. And it’s her season – less than a week to Halloween, and the night is full of weird lights and crazed children. The winds are back and gusting, there are more lights on the porches every night, tombstones … Continue reading →

Kage Baker loved the autumnal wind storms. We get such, in the coastal areas of California. They’re exciting, primal and fierce and threatening calamity. Sometimes it’s the relentless breath of the desert, when hot winds flow out over the land … Continue reading →

Kage Baker told me, in that last bizarre, crowded week of her life, that she was grateful to be going before any more of her friends died. She hadn’t like reaching that age where friends and relations were moving on … Continue reading →

Kage Baker, like most writers, carefully constructed an optimum place and method to keep herself isolated enough to write. As a teenager, she moved into the topmost point of Momma’s house: a semi-cupola known as The Tower. Kage dwelt up … Continue reading →

Kage Baker did not bow gracefully to the inevitable. She fought and connived like crazy to get what she wanted, and no effort was too great if if there was chance of success. And in Kage’s mind, there was always … Continue reading →

Kage Baker loved the autumn. Especially the beginning of it – Harvest Home, still warm in the days but with an edge growing to the nights. Reefs of pumpkins, sheafs of corn, and every garden, park and produce market filling … Continue reading →

Kage Baker would not have called herself a feminist. In fact, she wrinkled her nose in aristocratic distaste at many of the louder species of same, and preferred not to be associated with ’em. She felt that the attitude was … Continue reading →