Author Archives: Eugie Foster

Definitely feeling better today. I’m still either oversleeping or undersleeping, but I think I’m doing more over than under. Regardless of my questionable sleep habits, I think my mood is beginning to lighten. It’s amazing how therapeutic weekends can be.

Watched the debate on Thursday. Well, actually, watched mostly the second half of the debate. I slept through the beginning. Generally, I found it to be an exercise in frustration. Unsurprisingly, George W. debates like a babbling idiot. He utterly failed to give any sort of reasonable accounting of his various and myriad failures with regard to his overseas policies. He repeated himself a lot, which got tedious fast. And his stammering, uncertain presentation–par for his public speaking skills–continued to be a resounding confidence dimmer. I’m totally sympathetic with people being hesitant, weak public speakers, as long as they’re not the President of the United States. George W. needs remedial Toastmasters training.

On the other hand, Kerry missed some really obvious zingers. George W. said (about half a dozen times) that if the U.S. hadn’t moved against Iraq, they would have kept doing what they were doing . . . which was nothing. Yet Kerry didn’t hammer that point. And why didn’t Kerry pounce on the fact that George W. refers to the U.S.’s invasion of Iraq as a victory? George W. thinks contractors being kidnapped and beheaded, and Iraqi children getting bombed when they’re being given candy by U.S. soldiers constitutes a “victory”? Puhleeze.

Blah. As debates go, that was exceedingly lame. Although at least it should be obvious who won. Kerry was informed, confident, and poised. George W. was a blustering, blithering, tongue-tied fool who perpetually looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

On that note, an amusing link: Students for an Orwellian Society. “Because 2004 is 20 years too late”

Writing Stuff:
I did another pass on the recently revived story, had Matthew first reader it, did another pass, and then lobbed it on Critters. It should go up Wednesday. I’m loving this pro, bump-up-the-queue thing.

Also wrote two critiques for my Critter Litter writers group. It was a revise and critique sort of night.

Since the aggressive self-medication tactic didn’t work out so well, I went back to my usual mug of green tea this morning. Ended up with a throbbing headache and pronounced shortness of breath. I think my body is out to get me.

My mother and my step-dad are flying in this weekend for a short visit. I wonder if the stress from that impending encounter is contributing to my overall state of misery–ya think? They aren’t staying for very long, but I’m still fretful.

Writing Stuff:
Fantasy story progress: Hacked out a couple pages with a liberal use of the DELETE key, and managed about 500 words going in the right direction.

Halloween story progress: 230 words.

Another project I picked up after dropping a couple years ago: 1.6K words (completing the story at something over 4K). It’s very rough, and I’m definitely not achieving the emotional impact I was going for, which was the reason I set it aside in the first place. But I forced myself to finish it working on the philosophy that it’s easier to rewrite once I have something down, rather than agonize over how to do it. It’s at zero draft, but it still needs a lot of work before I want to show it to Matthew to first reader.

I seem to be on a “finish unfinished works” kick, which is great, but weird.

This morning, driving into work, it was quite dark–a symptom of the various hurricane effects moving through the state. The air was soft and cool, but not cold. Walking from the parking lot to my car, I reveled in the sensuous nature of the wind on my face, streaking through my hair. I found myself dragging my feet, trying to prolong that brief walk for as long as I could. I knew that by the time I emerged from my office again, the air would have changed–become more oppressive or rainier–so the only opportunity I would have to savor that particular feel in the air was then. Throughout the morning, I prairie-dogged my head over my cubicle walls to glance with longing out the bank of windows that line the end of my aisle. Storms are pretty. It was hard sitting at my desk this morning.

I’m having mood issues. It’s like there’s two of me, the emotional part that I can feel in the center of my chest, all weepy and unhappy, and the intellectual part of me that acknowledges that I’m feeling free-floating blueness, and is both annoyed and flummoxed by it. My emotions are flying all over the spectrum with no causal factor to speak of. One moment, I get that heavy ache in my chest that makes me want to cry, and the next moment, I’m fine but troubled by the emotional teeter-totter I appear to be on.

I can’t blame the meds I’m on, particularly. I’m off the Prednisone at long last and just taking Imuran to control my Lupus/MCTD. The Imuran shouldn’t, as far as I’m aware, have mood side effects. So I guess it’s just me. I assume that my irregular sleep habits are playing a large role, but aside from trying to regiment my sleep better, there’s not a lot I can do about them. Matthew suggested that I start doing yoga regularly again, and I agree that that’s an excellent suggestion. But it’s something of a Catch 22. I feel morose, and hence I’m disinclined to engage in any sort of healthful activity.

I assume I’ll feel better in a couple weeks, as these episodes tend to be cyclic, but until then, I’m having a hard time maintaining motivation, much less positive energy levels.

Stupid brain.

Writing Stuff:
58-day rejection from Story Station. (Herein I make a ridiculously self-evident observation:) Rejection hits me a lot harder when I’m depressed.

I think it might be time to trunk this story. I’ll sit on it for a while, maybe give myself a chance to look it over again, but I suspect its expiration date has passed.

I’m now, for the first time in quite a while, under thirty works in circulation. This doesn’t trouble me. I know of writers who maintain a juggling act of 100+ works out to various markets, and I have no wish to compete with those numbers. The way I figure it, the fewer works I have out, the more I’ve sold, as long I’m still writing new ones. Plus, I’ve got several stories waiting on the sidelines for manuscripts to clear from the Cricket queue. But it did surprise me when I checked my figures. Guess that’s what happens when I make five sales in under a month. Hardly going to furrow my brow over that.

But I am struggling to sustain momentum on the new story I’m working on. 500 new words, and they were uniformly melancholy and did little to further the plot. Not impressive. I don’t think I’m at my writing best right now.

Went to the Shakespeare Tavern last night to see Much Ado About Nothing. Again, I’m awed by the excellent directing and interpretation these folks manage to pull off. It was the best Much Ado I’ve ever seen, and I’m a vociferous fan of the Kenneth Branagh movie version. I laughed so hard I got a side cramp.

I really needed that. Good fun.

Then came home and watched The Fifth Element courtesy NetFlix. It seems to be a movie that holds up better to repeat viewing. Chris Tucker’s character didn’t annoy me as much as the first time I saw the movie. And Milla Jovovich continues to be an orange-hued hottie.

Had weird dreams involving zombies which resulted in not-very-restful sleep. I’ve got a sort of jittery, red-eyed feeling going on. Not the most relaxing of weekends.

Also picked up my new glasses yesterday. My eyes are getting progressively worse. It’s such a relief being able to see clearly again, but I’m worried that I’ve needed a stronger prescription every year. Can’t write (or program) without my eyes. Wish there was a way to input and output information in a manner that didn’t cause eye strain.

Yesterday I slept for nearly twelve hours. Last night, I couldn’t fall asleep, and then when I did, I promptly woke up a mere five and a half hours later. If averaged together, that’s two good night’s sleep, but it sure doesn’t feel anything remotely related to “good.”

Stupid dysfunctional circadian rhythms.

Writing Stuff:
Mailed off the signed contracts to Realms. Apparently, they pay “on acceptance” rather than “on publication,” which is totally sweet. I can expect a nice, fat check from them in the next couple months. That goes a long way to making up for their oftentimes lengthy response times, at least in my book. The contracts seemed to imply that both “The Storyteller’s Wife” and “Returning My Sister’s Face” would be in the Feb. 2005 issue. *blink* I wonder if that’s a typo. “Storyteller’s Wife” is a novelette and “Sister’s Face,” while still comfortably in “short story” range, isn’t exactly short clocking in at 6.3K.

Regardless, I’m thrilled that I’ll be between their covers so soon. Soon, of course, being defined relatively in this biz.

Watched the 30-second bunnies, Stuntcocks, and The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra last night. The Lost Skeleton was especially appreciated by Matthew’s college buddy, as he’s a Biology Professor. All the “science” jokes had him rolling with laughter. Rawr.

Writing Stuff:
Forty-eight critiques. Wow. Forty-eight. Gleep. The re-write’s almost done. I don’t think I can pare away too many more words. But I’m willing to let it sit for a month or so while I wait for something to clear out of the Cricket slush.

Started a new fantasy story. I don’t think I intend this one for children, although I’ve surprised myself before. About 1000 words so far. Doing some research on China’s Tang dynasty in order to get a good feel for the trapping of that era.

Also started writing my review of this week’s Sci-Fiction story. Having a hard time getting into both the review and the story–undoubtedly not coincidentally.