Author Archives: Eugie Foster

The spiffy skunk calendar Matthew made for me for Christmas informs me that today is “Old Rock Day.” I’m not quite sure how to properly observe that. Should I anoint an old rock with rare oils and lavish it with attention? Throw it, maybe? Offer it a cookie? How does one venerate aged petrologic entities?

Writing Stuff:
I am officially sedentary (perhaps that’s how one celebrates “Old Rock Day,” by mimicking their behavior?) One of my preferred writing spots has, among other reference books, a dictionary within reach of the computer. I was typing along, and a word popped into my head that I was uncertain about, but wanted to use (this is not an isolated occurrence–my lexical storage and retrieval processes are a total mystery to me). I decide to look up its definition to verify it did mean what I thought it meant. Instead of stretching my arm out and flipping open the Webster’s, I launched a web browser and surfed to Merriam-Webster Online because I was too lazy to reach the dictionary.

Sloth, thy name is Eugie.

In other news, I saw that Tangent is back up. It’s still terribly unwell as the site is full of errors, but at least it’s exhibiting signs of life. Hm, that probably means I should get to writing a review of this week’s Sci-Fiction story.

Words: 1100 The huli jing story continues apace. I got stuck but hadn’t gotten my 500 words for the day yet, so forced myself to keep at it. Decided to stop writing linearly and just skip scenes that weren’t coming. By doing that I managed to crank out nearly 800 more words before running aground again. And I think I have a better idea of where the story’s going. I still need to link the scenes I did write (and I shall probably end up not using all of them), but I managed to force my way through a stuckage. Rah.

Also came up with a good title (as opposed to the working title of “Fox Spirit”) in the wee hours of the morning. It’s been a day for mysterious subconscious brain functions.

Club 100 for Writers
36

500/day
4

I’m sick of being sick, and I’m sick of posting about how sick everyone here is, so instead I’ll say: “Happy Twelfth Night!”

*snog*

Writing Stuff:
Passed the second round of readings at Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, woohoo! That much closer to a juicy sale. *crosses fingers*

Switched gears on the kitsune story. Instead of Japanese fox spirits, I decided to make them Chinese fox spirits, huli jing. The characters have more of a Chinese flavor than a Japanese one. Plus, I’ve done the Japanese fox thing. So now I’m doing research to cement in my mind the differences. For some reason, I can’t find my notes from “When Shakko Did Not Lie.” No biggie, but irritating. I wonder if that was one of the files that got eaten in the Hard Drive Cataclysm of last year . . .

Words: 500

Club 100 for Writers
35

500/day
3

Everyone is sick. I’m holding steady, and Matthew and Hobkin are starting on the upswing towards recovery. There is much sniffling and coughing in our house. Need. More. Soup.

Writing Stuff:
Saw another review of The 3rd Alternative #40, this one from SFRevu.com:

“‘The Cajun Knot’ by Melanie Fazi is . . . one of the two really excellent stories in this magazine . . .The other excellent story in the issue is ‘Running on Two Legs’ by Eugie Foster . . . a delightful positive tale”
–Sam Tomaino

Rah!

Realized that this Critters batch doesn’t close out this week, but next. Coolness. That gives me a chance to do another pass on the SF story I tossed up the queue, plus gives me an extra week to do the critiques I’ve got on my “to do” list.

Picked up the strands of a kitsune story I started last year. If it goes where I want it to, I think it’ll be a good story to submit to mroctober‘s So Fey anthology. Of course I really should know better by now than to count my stories before I type “the end,” but at least the muse gears are grinding.

Words: 700

Club 100 for Writers
34

500/day
2

I’m feeling better, although still not 100%. But Hobkin is now officially sick. He keeps making these snuffly, snoggy noises with his nose, and he was pretty uncertain about his breakfast this morning. I think he couldn’t smell it and didn’t realize it was food. Once I got him started (I bribed him with a cookie), he fell to with enthusiasm, but until then, he kept giving me these dubious “I know what breakfast smells like, woman, and this ain’t it!” looks.

*snog*

What do small animals do when they have stuffy noses? They can’t take Sudafed or cough drops, and they can’t even blow their noses. Poor Hobkin!

Writing Stuff:
Received notice that a submission I sent them made it past the first round at Andromeda’s Spaceway’s Inflight Magazine. Also that a story I sent to the Razor-edged Arcanum anthology has been short-listed. Crossing fingers that both turn into juicy sales.

Finished the Critters critiques I started yesterday and completed another one on top of that. Still would like to get a couple more written before this batch clears.

Did a once over on the stories that were rejected yesterday and have boomeranged them both back out into the cold, cruel world.

Also managed several passes on the new SF story. End result: a cut of over 800 words. Tossed it up on Critters. Not sure if it’ll make it to this week’s batch or not.

Club 100 for Writers
33

500/day
1

Ugh. I probably shouldn’t have gone in to work today. Whatever plague bug that’s making the rounds down here seems to have latched its claws on me. I’m snoggy, feverish, sore throated, and dizzy. But I went in anyway because I had an afternoon meeting and I’ve been out of the office for the last week and a half. For all I knew, my place of work might have crumbled to rubble over the holidays.

The meeting was uneventful, my company is still chugging along, and I probably should have stayed in bed. I felt like I was sowing black death every time I wheezed out an exhalation.

I’m seriously worried that I may have given this ick bug to Hobkin, as he’s been sleeping a lot more (if that’s possible), and rubbing his nose a lot. And when he sleeps, his nose sometimes makes a sort of wet, snuffly noise. His appetite is fine, though. We’re increasing the amount of bell pepper in his diet to make sure he’s getting enough Vitamin C.

I feel utterly craptacular. *snog*

Writing Stuff:
I’m going to reset my 500 words/day counter so I can keep a tally of days for 2005 that I’ve managed to achieve my goal.

However, I’m still pinging away at my 100 words/day progress.

Did a pass over the flash piece I wrote for yack_yoniga‘s flash contest and posted it. Sorry folks, I want to keep my first publication rights if I don’t win, so I’m requesting that it remain screened. Started on a critique for Critters. Had a hard time focusing through the bleariness which is my brain. Will finish it up and send it out tomorrow. I’ve got several more that I want to do. We’ll see.

Received a 30-day “Both editors really enjoyed reading . . . but” from Aeon with a pretty detailed critique. As rejects go, this one was pretty spiffy.
And a 133-day “no, but try us again” from Paradox.

Did two rewrite passes on the Princess Fantasy, stuck a fork in and called it done. It’s now officially in my “hold for Cicada” queue.

Club 100 for Writers
32/100

HAPPY 2005!!

Rang in the new year quietly. Matthew and I went out to pick up a bottle of champagne and then curled up with Hobkin to watch Spider-Man 2 and Resident Evil: Apocalypse a la Netflix. I discovered that I can watch zombie flicks if they’re action instead of horror (I’ve got major squicks when it comes to shambling undead). And at 11:30 we turned on the Peach Drop coverage in Underground ATL, poured the bubbly, and clinked in the new year.

Spider-Man 2 was exceptionally uninspiring. The action bits were good, but anything involving character development got tedious fast. Resident Evil: Apocalypse was better, all shiny and shoot-em-up. Although it really felt like a video game. I drank far more champagne than I ought to–I’m a total lightweight; two glasses does me in. All in all, a good way to end 2004.

Writing Stuff:
Saw a review of The 3rd Alternative #40 at Emerald City which highlighted my story to praise. An auspicious beginning for 2005:

“My favorite story, however, was “Running on Two Legs” by Eugie Foster . . . it was interestingly cute, and it has a refreshingly sanguine view of serious illness.”
–Cheryl Morgan