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Summer of Joy, Fall of Woe

  • Posted on November 24, 2007 at 4:57 pm

Wow, it’s been forever since I posted! But a lot has been happening IRL, so perhaps I can be excused for my appalling lack of attention to this blog. Perhaps.

First, and foremost, the summer of joy: I sold a story!!!!! My first ever published story, “MarsBound” will appear in the anthology Ages of Wonder edited by Julie E. Czerneda and Rob St. Martin!! It will be published by Daw sometime in 2008.

Then we paid off the house! WHOO HOO! Happy, happy, joy, joy! Dancing in the streets! (Well, on the patio, but that’s outside, so it’s sorta like the streets.)

But then, in August, things took a dark turn. I got sick, for one, with shingles. This is a disease that is hopefully disappearing, since the advent of the Chicken Pox vaccine. You see, when you have Chicken Pox, it gives you a life-time immunity from ever getting it again, but that comes at a price: the virus stays in your system, hibernating in nerve clusters. Shingles is a re-activation of the virus, and–because it’s living in your nerves–can be quite painful. It’s not life-threatening, but if it flares along the nerves in the face, which mine did, it can damage your eye.

Then a previously-crowned tooth broke, requiring a new crown. Then another previously-crowned tooth got an abscess at the root, which required a root canal. Then that tooth broke, too, cracking the root and requiring an extraction and a bridge. All of which cost thousands of dollars, only a small portion of which was covered by insurance.

Then our 28-year-old washer/dryer set started making noise, and then the dryer just quit altogether. So we bought a new set.

The very next day after buying it, our 18 year-old truck had yet another mechanical malfunction, and given the shape it was in, we decided it was time to replace it. So we bought a used truck that was only 8 years old.

We have now used up all of our emergency fund, and are thousands of dollars in the hole on the credit card.

So, of course, when it got cold the furnace started making an awful racket, then stopped kicking on at all. (Although we could still kick it on manually, so we didn’t freeze.) Hundreds more dollars to fix. (Thankfully, though, we didn’t have to replace it, just fix it. But still. Hundreds of dollars!)

Then, after Steve said “Well, there’s not much else that can die on us, right?”– the gods laughed, as they directed that deer to jump in front of our car as we drove up to visit my folks.

Still waiting for the repair estimate from the shop, but the insurance will pay most of it. Less the $500 deductible, of course.

But, hey! I sold a story!!!! So, it’s all good. Sorta. Mostly.

The Junkie

  • Posted on September 17, 2006 at 4:36 pm

She furtively looked to the left… nobody there. To the right… no, no one there either. Maybe just a little one would be ok. Just enough to stop the shakes. It needn’t take long, she thought guiltily. I can get back to work later, it’ll wait a bit. And besides, I’ll probably work better if I can settle my mind on it…

She knew she was just making excuses, like she always had. She knew she should do something about her addiction, but… it felt so good. And it wasn’t like she did it _all_ the time. She could stop anytime she wanted, really. If she wanted…

Hunching closer to the keyboard, she opened Word and typed a sentence. She quickly looked around again. No. No one had seen. Feeling emboldened, she typed two sentences in a row. Her eyes slid left, right… still clear.

She hunched again. The jones had her now. Feverishly, she began to construct whole paragraphs, lost herself in the flow of the words until a sound behind her brought her up short…ALT-TAB!! The FreeCell screen replaced the MS Word program on the monitor. She tried to appear nonchalant, casual, as she looked around. That had been close! Her husband walked by on his way to the coffeepot.

“Whatcha doin?”

“Oh, just taking a little break. You know, just a quick game.” She was proud of the way she’d kept the tremor out of her voice, the naked need to get back to the words from her face. “You?”

“Oh, just working a bit, reading a bit. You know.”

“Oh, ok.” She waited while he filled his cup, and headed back to his upstairs office. ‘Well, see ya.” She waited a few more minutes, just to be sure, then ALT-TABbed back to the Word document. She read what she’d typed, getting her mind back to that state of altered consciousness she needed to satisfy her craving.

She began typing again, faster now, desperate to finish before another interruption made her stop. Made her wait. She typed, and typed. Lost in the words, the sentences, the Story.

The fix was close, now. A few more sentences.

“The End,” she typed.

She read what she’d written. She felt the rush begin, and sat back in her chair, waiting, waiting, for it to flow over her, to nourish her, to complete the experience, to make it real, and good.

Sometime later, she looked at the clock.

_Damn!_ Another day lost to Story.

The Twenty Worst (Literary) Agents

  • Posted on May 25, 2006 at 10:20 pm

Reposted from Teresa Nielsen Hayden’s Making Light blog. For the full story on why this is being posted here (and all over the net by many writers) read this post on that blog.

Lord Distractor

  • Posted on April 13, 2006 at 11:54 pm

I was reminded of this piece today… I thought I’d lost it in a computer crash, but a little digging in my back up files uncovered it. Originally written in 1997, it shows that some things never change.

***
Lord Distractor’s beeper went off. He was needed. Again. Sometimes, he reflected, it would be nice to just take some time off, lay on the beach, perhaps read a trashy novel. But, there was work to be done. Someone was headed toward a cliff, and it was up to him to prevent them from going over it. Lord Distractor sympathized with his subjects, really he did, but he couldn’t just let them run off, willy-nilly chasing rainbows and doing whatever they damn well pleased. They’d be bound to get into trouble that way. Actually, he was doing them a service by preventing them from encountering the awful truth. He was a very enlightened despot, when you looked at it that way, insulating his subjects from any harm that pursuing silly dreams might cause them.

Rejected! But…

  • Posted on April 5, 2006 at 8:48 pm

How beginning writers read rejection letters. (This is for any lurking editors out there ;) )

What the letter says:

It’s a good flash piece, but in the end I decided to give it a pass. Thanks for thinking of us, and best of luck placing it elsewhere.

What the writer reads:

It’s a good flash piece, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

What the writer thinks:

GOOD! He said it was GOOD!! I’m on my way! I’m gonna be rich and famous any minute now! I should practice writing my name for all those people who are going to want my autograph!!

No, I haven’t given up!

  • Posted on November 20, 2005 at 1:50 am

Wow. It’s been more than two weeks since my last momento. I haven’t stopped writing though, it’s just that I’m working on *stories* instead of momentos, and not posting them here. But one of the stories I’m working on *was* inspired by a photo on the “Tempest in a Teapot” blog, so I’ll post a snippet, just so the blog doesn’t look dead!

Introducing Momentos

  • Posted on September 30, 2005 at 10:59 pm

I’ve been wanting to get back to writing for a while now, even though I’ve never sold any of my fiction. Mostly because I rarely finish my fiction (there’s a reason, after all, that I call myself a “beginning writer”). I’ve started three novels, a screenplay, and several short stories, and have finished… well two short stories could be considered finished, I guess. If you squint a little and try real hard.