Author Archives: Eugie Foster

Zombie-husband and cannonball skunk

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fosteronfilm is currently downtown in Buckhead, having brunch with a movie contact, doing the networking thing. This has whacked his normal sleep-wake cycle totally for the day, so I expect he’ll be zombie-like this evening.

I’m pretty sure Hobkin is in full spring fever mode. He’s frisky and full of mischief. Last night he went tearing around the house, stomping at furniture and attacking our feet. Skunks are the only animal I’ve seen that compact when they hit their “speed” stride (which isn’t exactly speedy). All the other animals I’ve watched elongate, stretching out to maximize their gait. But Hobkin, when he runs, scrunches into a fuzzy ball with a huge banner of a tail, sort of a half prance/half scamper, rather than a gallop. He’s like a cannonball with paws . . . and a tail. It’s adorable.


Writing Stuff

Got emailed the final draft of the interview Apex is going to run to look over. The intro made me grin. The editor called me “vibrant” and a “dynamo.”

Glimmer Train, however, were less flattering. Got the “we won’t be publishing this particular piece” form reject from them. Alas.

White blood count down

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Got a phone call from my Rheumatologist’s office yesterday. I was at the interview, so wasn’t there to pick up. Didn’t notice the message light was flashing until after lunch. I don’t like phones, so I had fosteronfilm call them back. My doc folks typically give Matthew a hard time, saying that they’re not allowed to talk to him about me–even though I swear I filled out a form thingy giving them permission to do so–but my Rheumatologist’s staff are cool. After a brief check pause, they told Matthew why they called.

It seems that the lab work I had done revealed that my white blood count is down. This could be due to the Imuran, in which case it’s bad. Quite bad. I’m going back in for more lab work in a couple weeks–having them leech out more blood–to determine if it was a fluke or a real concern. If my count remains down, they’re going to have to pull me from the Imuran. I’m very unhappy at that possibility, not that I’m joyous about taking Imuran or anything, actually the stuff terrifies me when I think about it, but we just got all my medications leveled out. The prospect of starting another med, risking allergic reactions and other side-effects, perhaps even a flare-up, is a depressing one. Thought I’d managed to get on an even keel. Although I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Been under a lot of stress. Of course my stupid human suit would freak out.


Writing Stuff

Received payment for “When the Lights Go Out” today. In pounds sterling, even, and currently the exchange rate between pounds and dollars is pretty sweet. A nice little pick-me-up.

My folktale is now up at Critters. Three crits this morning (including one from wistling, thanks!). It’s being well-received thus far.

Interview interview interview. Eee!

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I’m cautiously optimistic at how the job interview went. The initial design analysis test was actually somewhat fun, although I had expected to have a computer to type my answers out on, and instead I had to write them out longhand. I felt sorry for the panel of system analysts that had to review my work. Ever since elementary school, my handwriting has been the bane of my English teachers and penmanship instructors. The panel part was light and chatty, with some laughter–laughter is always a good thing–and one of the analysts in the panel had been to Dragon*Con a couple times, which made me happy. I like the idea of working with fellow fan-types.

The senior analyst I was supposed to meet with was out sick, so I may need to go back in to interview with her, but it could be a phone interview (ugh) instead. I’d much rather go in again. I like face-to-face so much better than voice-to-voice.

Overall, I found it to be a solid, stable company, very pleasant environment, with an excellent future. It’s a good size, not so small that it could fold at the whimsy of the markets, but not so big (unlike my previous company) that it’s mired in red tape and flaming hoops. And they’re quite close. The travel time is about the same as the one I had previously, dependent, of course, on traffic.

The recruiter person said I’d probably hear back one way or another in a couple weeks.

It’d be nice to have the security of being a cubicle-monkey again.


Writing Stuff

Received my contrib. copy of Here & Now #5/6 with “When the Lights Go Out” in it. It’s a monster double-issue, full sized with a glossy cover. And mine is the very last story. It’s been a long time coming. And I’ve still got accepted stories awaiting publication in issues #7 and #8. Haven’t been paid yet, though.

Also got an email from my agent. HarperCollins passed on my novel, but the editor had some incredibly nice things to say:

“I surprised myself by liking very much Eugie Foster’s Shao Huan: The Soul of a Badger. She writes well, which of course drew me in, but more than that, the development of the relationship between Yeye and Shao Huan was handled with real skill and never became unbelievable . . . Alas, this isn’t quite what I’m looking for here at HarperCollins. It’s excellent, but a tad too quiet for my tastes . . . But I did like this very much, and I am grateful you let me have a look at it.”

As rejections go, it’s an extremely encouraging one. My agent is sending my manuscript off to Viking next. Onward.

Interview twitches

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So it seems that the corporate recruiter and associated company folks approved of my writing sample. Just got a call. They want me to come in for an interview tomorrow. Gleep.

And yep, there go my anxiety and nervousness levels, right through the ceiling. I think this would be a place I’d like to work at, cubicle-monkey status notwithstanding, which makes the prospect of the interview process even more nerve-wracking.

The first part of the interview will be a design analysis test, which I’m actually relieved about. An analytical challenge will help to soothe my early jitters. Plus, I tend to test well, and I like having the opportunity to prove my ability straight off the bat. But I’m still a bundle of twitches.

Calmblueocean. Calmblueocean.

Strange Days Indeed

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Well, maybe not that strange. Filled my shiny, new prescription for Tramadol yesterday. (Also let them leech off three vials of blood for my regular lab work–the doc checks every six weeks to make sure my liver/kidneys/whatever aren’t pitching a fit over the Imuran I take regularly.) I like Tramadol. It’s apparently a non-opiate analgesic, also a non-NSAID. I took the first dose and felt a little dizzy, but the wingstub pain was better. It was still there, but it didn’t trouble me as much. I took a second one, and that did the trick. Pain free. Although it did have other effects. It seems to have given me a bit of a pep. It’s supposed to make me drowsy, but instead it acted as a stimulant. I couldn’t sleep.

But, more interestingly, it had an unexpected benefit to my breathing. I don’t even bother bringing up the fact that I have trouble breathing with my docs anymore. They’ve run all the tests they can come up with and can’t find any structural cause, so as long as I’m not at risk for asphyxiation, I just deal with it when it pops up. But the Tramadol loosened the tension in my chest, and I was able to take deep, unfettered breaths.

Neat! Tramadol can be habit-forming, so I have to use it sparingly, but I’m well pleased to have something that works. Less pleased with the insomnia, but it’s a decent trade off. And it only lasts 4-5 hours, so now that I know it keeps me awake, I can just take it early in the day to avoid that side effect. Theoretically, at least. God, I hope I don’t turn out to be allergic to it.


Writing Stuff

Had to do an abrupt about face on Tangent‘s new “we now review poetry” policy back to “we don’t review poetry.” Unbeknownst to me, Dave Truesdale is adamantly opposed to reviewing poetry. When he came down on my poetry announcement like a dump truck full of lead, no one could have been more astonished than I. No matter how I argued, cajoled, or raged, he refused to give an iota on his “no poetry” stance. Well, crap. I’m extremely disappointed by this turn of events. I’ve already notified the editors I’d previous contacted, and of course gardenwaltz, and I’ll make an announcement on the newsgroup with the next batch of reviews, but I’m massively bummed at this outcome.

Cranked out a several page writing sample for the corporate recruiter guy and sent it off. It’s not exactly fiction, but the effort exhausted me and curtailed any energy I had for working on the novel. It wasn’t easy or fun, so I’m giving myself Club 100 credit for it.

Club 100 For Writers
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Happy Chocolate Chip Day!

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Yesterday was National Chocolate Chip Day. To celebrate, I made cookies from scratch. Not being an experienced baker, there was a certain mess factor. The cookies came out pretty yummy, if I do so say so myself. But I didn’t know you need to remove them from the sheet as soon as they come out of the oven or they stick. So getting them off–after giving them several minutes to cool–was an exercise in mangled cookies. And our resident fuzzy chocolate chip did not make things any easier. We’ve never given Hobkin chocolate chip cookies because, of course, chocolate is as toxic for skunks as it is for dogs and other animals, but somehow the smell of baking cookies was enough to get him in full beg mode. So while I tried to transfer torn and crumbled cookie bits from the cookie sheet to the plate, Hobkin was dancing around at my feet, ready to snap up any crumbs that fell. I managed to keep him from ingesting any chocolate, but at the cost of a greater mess on the counters. And because he had such a hopeful look on his little face, when we had our choco-chip cookies, he got his own treat–safe, non-chocolate chip, veggie biscuits. I know, I’m such a sucker.

fosteronfilm and I gorged ourselves sick. And there’s plenty more cookie-blob for dessert tonight. Mmm.

Watched Cat People on DVD a la Netflix, which I’d only seen on television before. The TV version is apparently VERY cut. The whole ending is edited out, as are some rather key scenes. It was as though I’d never seen it before. Unsurprisingly, it’s a much better movie uncut.

Got an email from the corporate recruiter, checking up on me. I can’t get a requirements document that isn’t jam-packed full of proprietary information. If I try to clean that information up, it makes it nonsensical. Grumph. I explained the situation to the recruiter and he’s letting me send in a writing sample instead. I hope the substitution doesn’t knock me out of the running.


Writing Stuff

Heard that a previous sale I’d made to an anthology is dead in the water. I can’t say I’m actually disappointed. When I submitted to the antho, it hadn’t found a publisher yet (not a project situation I usually trust, but I’m on friendly terms with the editor). Then he sold his anthology to Cyberpulp, leaving me ambivalent overall about the project. I’ve heard some questionable first-hand things from reputable writers about them. I didn’t want to pull the story from the project and leave the editor high and dry, but at the same time I knew I would need a pretty solid contract in writing from Cyberpulp before I allowed them to print anything of mine. And my alarm lights flashed big time when the editor asked for a short email sentence to give permission for Cyberpulp to publish my story in lieu of a contract, to the effect of “I give permission for Cyberpulp to publish my story in XXX anthology.” No discussion of rights transferred, payment, or royalty statements. So I emailed the editor back and told him I’d need something more substantive than that, and I wanted it in writing. But it appears I wasn’t the only writer with reservations. In the end, only eight of the accepted authors responded (perhaps the others, like me, were concerned about the absence of a contract), and the editor killed the anthology. While I’m bummed at having a story newly orphaned, I’m a bit relieved.

Popped my “edits are a-okay” letter into the mail to my Cricket editor.

And I got another piece of fan mail today on “The Storyteller’s Wife.” I’m so very delighted that it’s being so well received.

Zen Saturday

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In keeping with yesterday morning’s clarity, I spent the day just recovering/maintaining my emotional equilibrium, wallowing in that-which-makes-Eugie-content. fosteronfilm wanted to see the marathon showing of the classic Fly movies–The Fly, Return of the fly, and Curse of the Fly–on the Fox movie channel. They were perfect, amusing in a totally undemanding way, and periodically just plain silly. Good background for light writing work, especially with a cuddlesome skunk pressed against my side. Made some nummy homemade pizza–fresh mushrooms and green olives, mmmm–and watched the season and show finale of Enterprise. Again, amusing, undemanding, and periodically silly. To round out the day, I mixed up some gin & tonics, and we put on The Sea Hawk–Errol Flynn gallivanting around in pirate pants, accompanied by the ever-heroic, Korngold score. The gin worked its medicinal goodness and when the movie was over, I fell into a restful, mostly-dreamless sleep, Hobkin curled up in my arms.

I woke this morning refreshed and balanced. There’s a bit of a strain to maintaining that sense of tranquility. On the edges of my mind are all the stressors and anxieties that I’ve been fixating on, not to mention my wingstubs hurt like the dickens. I have to work to relax, if that makes any sense. But I am grateful for the serenity I have now, no matter how fleeting it may be.


Writing Stuff

Received the proposed edits from my Cricket editor for both “Li T’ien and the Demon Nian” and “Cuhiya’s Husband.” Spent large chunks of the sillier scenes of The Fly sequels going over the edits and then doing some supplementary research to answer a couple of her questions. Will mail that out tomorrow.

My correspondences with her are always lovely ego boost. She said she’s discovered my blog! My Cricket editor reads my blog! *waves*

Terrible night leads to a new morning

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Had a really terrible night. Couldn’t sleep and felt ill. Tossed and turned but I couldn’t quiet my mind. fosteronfilm was wonderful, though. He sat beside me, just holding me and stroking my head, trying to get me to relax enough to fall asleep. I love my hubby. Cuddled against him, I managed to doze a couple times, but nothing worth calling restful sleep.

Got out of bed this morning at 8AM and wrote for a couple hours. My wingstubs weren’t happy with me, but it helped to channel some of the mental gunk from last night.

Hobkin crawled up and fell asleep against me as I was writing. He was incredibly cute, making little sleeping roinking noises and twitching his little paws as he chased some dream cricket or pixie or whatever his small fuzzy brain stalks in Morpheus’ realm. With the ambiance of sleeping skunk to sooth me, my brain white-noised enough for me to think I might be able to sleep. So I curled up with him under my chin for an hour or so. As soon as I shut my eyes, my brain started hissing and snarling at me again and I couldn’t shut it up, but I did manage to fall into an exhausted nap for a while, enough of one to actually cycle into REM sleep. Had a dream. I can’t remember anything about it but the phrase “sometimes you win some, and sometimes you lose some.”

I feel better now, although still exhausted. There’s a certain clarity I managed to keep from the dream and that silly, trite little phrase. I can’t explain it, but it’s stabilized my perspective or realigned my sense of emotional balance or something. My subconscious gave me what I needed, apparently, to sort myself out.

I have my husband and I have my skunk. Everything else is gravy. I can choose how much of myself I invest in everything else–writing, working, other people, my aches and pains, my hopes and ambitions–but in the end, I can walk away from the world and its stresses if I need to, and it’s all good, because I have my loved ones to turn to, come what may.

So yeah, I’ve been under a lot of stress, and I’ve been spending a lot of time worrying about things I have limited control over. But as long as I don’t lose sight of the touchstones of my life, I’ll be just fine.


Writing Stuff

Uploaded the folktale to Critters queue. Added a bit in my author’s notes at the end explaining (I hope) that while it’s aimed at a younger audience, I’m not looking for feedback on age appropriateness.

New words: 1000
On a rambling, fragmented thing. More therapy than literary creation, but I might be able to shape it into a story. My mental turmoil and furious typing did manage to trigger quite a few interesting ideas. I only sketched the barest outlines of them in my outpourings, but I think enough to to remember and flesh out later.

Club 100 For Writers
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500/day
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A pox on my COBRA provider!

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Had my follow-up with my rheumatologist this morning. When I went to check in, my COBRA status still wasn’t showing up on their system. Aggrieved and frustrated, I called the COBRA people to find out what the Hell was going on. They confirmed that my eligibility was up-to-date as were my payments (which it damn well should be!). So then I had my doctor’s office call them and confirm. Eventually it all got sorted out, but I’m glad I allowed a lot of extra time before my appointment. Very annoying. But I’m still not in my health care provider’s computer system as of when I left their office.

My doctor prescribed me a new pain med, which I haven’t filled yet because I don’t want to deal with the COBRA snafu at the pharmacists. Will fill it on Monday, but I sure could use it now. Damn wingstubs. I also told him that I’ve been having emotional downs, and he referred me to a behavioral health person–I assume a psychiatrist. So I made an appointment. They can’t get me in until June. Sheesh. I’d hate to be severely depressed and require an appointment. A month would be enough time for a really sick person to spiral into a really nasty funk.


Writing Stuff

New words: Editing
fosteronfilm first readered my folktale. Nothing like a good prodding to get some results. Did a couple editing passes, then quit. Wingstubs. Ow.

Club 100 For Writers
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Damn you, LJ!

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Well, crap. LJ ate my original post. Bastards! That’ll teach me not to compose in a client.

In brief, I didn’t exercise yesterday, so that counter gets zeroed out. Bad Eugie. I got distracted by a work issue and by the time I had it sorted out–not resolved, but sorted out–I was exhausted and it was very late. So I went to sleep instead of getting out the yoga mat. Foo. Well, I knew I sucked at sticking to an exercise program, so I’m not totally disheartened.

Also, our DVD-ROM is not well. It’s troubled. It errors out on more burns that it succeeds on. Matthew thinks we may have a bad DVD-R spindle, which is possible. He just opened a new one and all of the errors have occurred on those discs. But the burner might be ailing too. Hardware problems. I don’t like hardware problems.


Writing Stuff

Got a registered and insured package from DHL this morning. Thankfully the delivery person was quite determined as I was not in any condition to answer the door. She rang the bell and then pounded on the door when that didn’t bring me fast enough. A hastily-donned night shirt and jamie-pants later, I was delighted to see the package was from Greece! After tearing it open, I confirmed that it was indeed my check from 9 for my “Adventures of Manny the Mailmobile” reprint. Yay for being paid! It’s in Euros and I don’t know how much the bank will subtract in the exchange, but money is good. Amusing that that little ditty of a story that I rattled out with my tongue firmly planted in cheek has earned me so much money, over $1000 between the Cicada sale and the 9 reprint for a 4K worder. Sweet. I immediately sent off another reprint to 9 in the hopes they’ll translate and buy another reprint. I love the Greeks.

New words: 1000
On an essay. Normally I wouldn’t count non-fiction writing, but this one was hard to write and it took up all of my fiction-writing time to compose. It’s not meant for publication either, but I’m going to count it in my 100/day dammit. Although not in my 500 tally.

Handed off the folktale to Matthew to first reader. He hasn’t yet. I shall prod him mercilessly.

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