Author Archives: Eugie Foster

Hobkin, treading the stewpot’s edge, and human company

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Hobkin came thiiiis close to being turned into a stew this morning. Been staying up late both because I’m doing the frantic-circus-juggler-with-too-many-hamsters dance, and because my time sense is still wonked out from last week. Got to sleep last night near 2AM, and at 6, the little fuzzwit decided it was time for breakfast.

Y’know, it’s well-nigh impossible to sleep through being walked on by a skunk. And if a person can somehow manage that feat, a snuffling nose in the ear is really the final nail in the “just five more minutes” coffin.

So yeah, four hours of sleep and I get up to launch into my day o’ work. Ugh. Thank God for Adderall.

In other, less sleep-deprived news, britzkrieg swung by yesterday so we could exchange refrigerator magnets for purposes related to The Town Drunk (I think klingonguy will be pleased). We go live in six days on the 20th with our first “issue.” Woot!

And Patrick and Christie have been popping over to help fosteronfilm with Dragon*Con film festival screenings these last two nights, which means I’ve been watching film slush, an activity I’ve been actively striving to avoid this year. At least it’s 2nd tier film slush. But the fabu company makes it worth it.

   


Writing Stuff

Spent some time hunting around online for an Internet fax program. There’s now been a couple freelance clients that have wanted me to fax contracts/confidentiality documents to them (although I think the fax machine is a relic of antiquated business practices, much like the ticker tape machine, and should in all properness be laid to rest) and I wanted to see what my “I’m not buying a fax machine, dammit” options were.

There’s a bunch of online pay services where I could email them a document, they fax it over for me, and then they scan in and email me any incoming faxes, but I wanting software that would allow me to send faxes directly from my own computer over my modem since I don’t foresee having enough fax needs to want to keep paying a regular fee. Plus the confidentiality and privacy issues made me a bit leery. I was contemplating a trial version of Fax Wizard, and then it occurred to me that since I’m on broadband using a Wi-Fi hookup, I don’t have any way to access a standard fax protocol like a dial-up modem could. While I might be able to theoretically convert documents and send them as faxes from my cable Internet connection, I sure as heck wouldn’t be able to receive them. So I gave up and emailed the client asking if they’d rather I snail-mailed the signed document to them or scanned it into a secured PDF and emailed it.

Faxes. Feh, I sez.

Also sent out a Daily Dragon “please confirm, yo!” staff email yesterday, and good thing too. I lost one of my reporters (*grumble* he had to wait until I contacted him before telling me he couldn’t make it?), but I’m hopeful that yukinooruoni will be able to help me out in finding a replacement.

New Words:
– 1200 for a freelance gig.
– 300 on my column article for Writing-World.com.

I wanna get back to fiction *whine*. Maybe after this next batch of articles gets out the door I can return to writing stories.

Received:
– A note from Shawna at Realms of Fantasy that the taped-shut-but-empty SASE I’d received was just a mix-up and hadn’t at any time contained my contract for “The Devil and Mrs. Comstock’s Snickerdoodles.” Whew.
– Shiny check from a freelance gig. $$$

Home Again Home Again

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We’re back in Georgia after another grueling drive, and happy to be home. Hobkin’s pleased too; he spent last night cuddled up with me, and spent the first hour or so after I carried him in running around the house cheek-rubbing all the baseboard corners, re-establishing his territory (when we re-paint the interior some time in the dim and hazy future, it’s going to be a dark color) and making sure nothing had changed in his absence.

Thank you to everyone who dropped a comment with well-wishes and thoughts over this last week. Apologies that I haven’t responded individually to y’all. But you can be sure that your outpourings of concern and support were greatly appreciated.

DiL is still in the hospital but getting stronger daily. He’s eating on his own, and I believe they’ve started him on physical therapy. Still stubborn as all get out and clamoring to go home. They’ve also installed the pacemaker, a complication-free surgery. Unfortunately, the tests came back that they ran after his last fever spike and he’s got a Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus infection, which they didn’t know before they put in the pacemaker. He’s now quarantined within ICU and people have to wear face masks when visiting him. Both fosteronfilm and MiL banned me from seeing him–over my squawked protests–once the results came in, all jumpy about my stupid compromised immune system. Grumpf. Bunch of worrywarts. You’d think with an overactive immune system I’d be less susceptible to infections instead of more. Stupid lupus.

I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye before we left. I’d be very distressed about that, but I’m hoping I’ll be able to see him again sans infection, when he’s back home.

   


Writing Stuff

Didn’t get nearly as much work done as I’d hoped last week. Not really a surprise, considering, but I’m now stretching myself full out in an effort to catch-up. My hamsters have embarked upon a breeding program while I was up north, the irksome things, and none of the new hamster-spawn appear to be aerodynamic.

The last Dragon*Con all-staff meeting is this weekend, which heralds the start of in earnest Daily Dragon prep. I’ve also been officially approved as a guest again this year. Right now, I’m scheduled to be on bevlovesbooks‘s panels “The Power of the Old Stories: Mythology and Folklore in YA” and “So, You Want to Write a Kid’s Book?” for her YA Lit track. I believe jackzodiac is hoping to put together a panel for Writers for Relief, and I’m anticipating that Ann Crispin will want me to reprise my guest lecture for her Beginning Writers Workshop. Another chock-full schedule. Much fun, but also loads of public speaking anxiety.

I saw that my other Escape Pod story, “The Life and Times of Penguin,” was also nominated for a Parsec Award. That’s both of them! Squee! Crossing my fingers that at least one of them makes the short list.

And Escape Pod now has an LJ: escapepodcast. EP was a lifesaver during the drive to and from Illinois. During David D. Levine’s “Tk’tk’tk”, I totally lost track of the miles and got swept away to an alien world . . . that was also somewhat Asiatic in feel. Very nice.

Received:
– Payment for my 2-part Multicultural Writing article from Writing-world.com.
– Contrib. copy of Apex Digest Best of 2005. Shiny!
– My taped-shut-but-empty SASE from Realms of Fantasy for “The Devil and Mrs. Comstock’s Snickerdoodles.” Erm. I expected it to contain my contract, and now I’m stressing that the contract was lost en route. Have dropped a note to Shawna to alleviate my anxiety.
– 46-day “thanks but no” from Forgotten Worlds. Bummer. But less of one now that I’ve learned that FW doesn’t include a contrib. copy with their payment. While I’d rather get money over a contrib. copy, I sort of expect both.

New Words/Editing:
– 1200 on a freelance gig. Got 300 to go and I can send this one off. This was a longish assignment.
– After 29-crits from Critters.org for “Black Swan, White Swan,” I did several editing passes and stuck a fork in. Fly, little swan story; find a good home and make me proud!
– Put together the outline for my first writers-world.com column article. Right now, the plan is to call the column: “Eugie Foster – Writing for Young Readers.” It’s not flashy or exciting, just plain jane straightforward. But I think that’s best. Plus, I couldn’t think of anything cute.

DiL off the ventilator and asking for ice cream

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They took DiL off the ventilator today, and he’s breathing well on his own. A world of hurray. He’s awake and responsive–although a bit disoriented–and stubborn as all get out. He keeps pulling off the oxygen mask and trying to talk, although he shouldn’t because of how raw his throat is, and everything he says is a variant of “leave now” and “I want to go home.” He’s also asking for ice cream, but he’s not allowed to eat until tomorrow because anything he’d swallow right now would aspirate into his lungs.

I wish we could give him some ice cream. And God, I wish we could take him home. When the nurse, MiL, and fosteronfilm and I told him he was too weak to get out of bed, much less stand and walk out, he said he’d crawl out of the hospital if he had to. I’d feel the same way in his place.

Although his heart, lungs, and kidney are ailing, my DiL’s a stubborn man, and his will is strong as a rocky iron strong thingy. It’s heartbreaking trying to get him to stay still. And the nurses are looking rather peaked around the eyes already. One of them has already threatened to put him in restraints if he keeps trying to pull himself out of bed.

Notes from the hospital

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They’ve got WiFi at the hospital, a small but appreciated blessing. The coffee here, however, is a bit raw.

DiL had a fever last night, so they’re postponing the pace maker surgery. fosteronfilm and I have been reading out loud to him. He seems to appreciate the Thurber. He actually grinned after one of them: “The Shrike and the Chipmunks.”

They’re going to try to take him off the ventilator again tomorrow. Last time they tried, his throat started swelling shut due to irritation from the tube, so after an hour and a half they had to replace it. But he was taking breaths on his own before that. He’s strong enough to breathe unassisted. If only we can just get him over the swelling and the intermittent fevers.

Hospitals, not cheery places.

Updates from Illinois

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In Illinois now visiting the in-folks. The drive up was grueling and we had to pull over for a few hours in Kentucky to sleep. I’m exhausted, even on 20mg of Adderall, and my time sense is all whacked.

DiL is in the hospital on a respirator and heavily sedated. It’s more than a little surreal seeing him like that. He doesn’t look like the man I know, but rather like someone based on my DiL’s blueprint but the artisan wasn’t able to capture the nuances of personality and energy that make a person who they are.

We managed to talk to a pair of (second line) doctors yesterday. The primaries, of course, were off, it being the 4th holiday. But from what we were able to gather, the prognosis is more positive than MiL initially thought. They’re installing a pace maker in the next day or two, and expect him to recover from this current hospitalization. There’s some concern about the breathing tube, though. They’ve tried to remove it twice now, and he couldn’t breathe on his own after a short period of time. And they think his throat may have swollen due to the tube’s irritation, which of course makes it rather awkward trying to remove it again. But at least the machine’s on its lowest setting, and he is initiating each breath on his own.

When we first went to see him, he was less sedated. His eyes opened when we came in, although it was obvious he was still really out of it. But when I asked him to squeeze my hand, he did. I’m very glad there’s an amnesiaic effect with these meds he’s on. This isn’t an experience he needs to remember.

MiL doesn’t know what to do with the fractured communication situation. Obviously, DiL can’t speak with the tube down his throat, and he’s too weak to write. So when he’s awake, he can only shake his head or flail his hands, and she’s not really able to anticipate what questions to ask to best suit a shake/nod/flail answer. I tried to teach him a little sign language–just a bob of his fist for “yes” and an ASL “N” for “no” but I don’t think he was awake enough for it. Maybe I’ll try again when he’s less sedated. I’d like to teach them both the ASL alphabet, so he can spell out rudimentary words and express some basic thoughts, but fosteronfilm thinks it’ll be futile. And considering that MiL just recently learned how to pump her own gas, and always goes to the same gas station because that’s the one she knows how to do, I’m afraid he might be right.

We brought Modern Magic and fosteronfilm read “Souls of Living Wood” to DiL, which he seemed to find soothing. Then again, they’d just upped his med dose.

Also got to meet some more of the Foster-side family: a couple of fosteronfilm‘s first cousins. Matthew has a big ole Catholic family-horde, and there’s a lot of people and names who I’ve either met once in the midst of a big event (funeral or wedding) or never met, and it’s hard to wrap my mind around who’s who without a solid face and one-on-one to anchor it all in. So I very much liked getting a chance to get to know these cousins and hearing about how they all played and ran amok as kids. Made me go “awww.”

Y’know, it’s somehow easier talking to family, even brand-new, never-met-before fmaily. It’s weird, since these are essentially strangers, but I felt more comfortable and at ease around them than some people I’ve hung with umpteen times. And his cousin, Mary, is a speech pathologist who works with autistic kids. How cool is that??

Good people. I’d like to stay in touch with them.

   


Writing Stuff

New Words:
– 2100 on a freelance gig. Trying to keep working while up here, but it’s a bit . . . distracting.

Published:
– “The Dragon’s Breath Seed” is now up at Reflection’s Edge. Go read, yo.

Received:
– Payment for “The Dragon’s Breath Seed.”
– Royalty payment for “Oranges, Lemons, and Thou Beside Me” from the Best of Apex 2005 chapbook, as well as payment for “It’s Only Springtime When She’s Gone” at Apex Online. Shiny.

This Week Better than Last

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So we went to Washington Mutual and opened an account. The folks there were very personable and helpful. As it turns out, there is a fee for depositing a foreign check with them, but the manager waived it, and he said as long it wasn’t too frequent, he’d waive the wire transfer fee for future foreign payments. Very nice. Going to start transferring all our account stuff from SunTrust, rah.

Got the replacement warranty faucet part from Moen. It wasn’t what we expected. fosteronfilm and I were taken aback to discover it was neither the handle nor the whole faucet unit they sent, but a piece of metal and some attachment thingies. After some head scratching and much instruction poring, we realized they’d sent us the hardware piece that connects the handle to the unit, the actual bit that had broken. Huh.

Matthew applied screwdriver and much grunting to the faucet and succeeded in re-attaching the handle. Except, um, the hot and cold run backwards. It’s an oops that currently has us debating whether we should try to fix it or simply get used to right being hot and left being cold, but I’m very pleased to once again have a kitchen sink that delivers water.

   


Writing Stuff

The dry spell I was complaining about ended in a big, gushy flood of sales. Woot!

Received:
– 89-day SALE of “The Devil and Mrs. Comstock’s Snickerdoodles” to Realms of Fantasy. Woohoo!! I was beginning to wonder if my sales to RoF last year were a fluke. *happy dancing!*
– 23-day SALE of “The Dragon’s Breath Seed” to Reflection’s Edge. Thanks to squirrel_monkey for getting me to submit to these fine folks!
– 7-day SALE of my 2 part article “Multicultural Writing” to Writing-World.com. Also, the editor has invited me to do a regular monthly article on children’s fiction. Of course I said yes. It’s slated to begin in August. I’m casting around for what to title it . . .

New Words:
– 500 on the collab. piece I’m doing with mtrimm1. I hang my head in shame for how long I’ve sat on it, but at least I’ve finally got myself back in the game.

Lobbing dem hamsters . . .

Club 100 For Writers
      45

500/day
      55

Fun with medical people

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No replacement faucet yet from Moen. Sigh. And on the bank front, we’re leaning toward switching to Washington Mutual.

Had a follow-up appointment with the nurse practitioner from hell on Monday. I was not looking forward to it, and had geared myself up to do everything I could to get my Adderall refilled and me out of there as fast as possible. But I think nurse-lady got the message that I considered her (cursory, spurious, and uninformed*) assessment to be bogglingly off-base. A couple days after my May appointment I dropped her a note letting her know that I was discontinuing the Celexa she’d bullied me into starting and why I didn’t feel the need to be on an antidepressant. I was cordial and non-confrontational. Honest!

I never got a reply and didn’t think about it beyond wondering whether she’d read it. But as soon I got through the door, nurse-lady does a little song-and-dance of “another practitioner departed, my workload increased, for future follow-ups you’ll need to see either doctor so-and-so or such-and-such” and hands over my Adderall refill prescription. Since she didn’t mention refilling the Celexa, I’m assuming she did indeed read my missive.

Man, she wanted me out of there quick-like. If I hadn’t asked her to repeat the doctors’ names, I wouldn’t have said a single word to her. Irony there. She babbled about her situation to me. But that suited me fine. I wasn’t exactly gagging to have a tête-à-tête with her.

And I’ve decided not to make a follow-up with a pdoc. I’ll check to see if either my GP or my Rheumatologist, whom I see on a regular basis to keep tabs on my Lupus/MCTD anyway, can refill my Adderall. I’d like not to have to shell out a co-pay just to have a pdoc scribble out a refill. It’s one thing if my emotional equilibrium is totally off kilter and I need the services of a mental health professional, but it’s not, and I don’t.

Also got a call from fosteronfilm‘s mom the other day. Dad-in-law’s back in the hospital, back on a respirator. He’s had another dangerous buildup of CO2 (isn’t there some preventative treatment for that?? They already know he’s unable to expel it on his own anymore . . .). They also have him on a dialysis machine. MiL wasn’t sure if she should approve the hospital’s request to hook him up to it. She didn’t know what it was and was worried that it constituted one of those unendurable, dignity-killing quality of life treatments that both she and DiL are adamant about not subjecting him to. After Matthew explained to her what a dialysis machine was for, she gave the hospital the go ahead. It concerns me that she doesn’t have a better grasp of DiL’s medical treatments. Why doesn’t the hospital make a better effort at informing her?

DiL is fully expected to recover from this latest hospital adventure, and we’re prepping for our trip north.

*What, me still incensed? Naaah.

   


Writing Stuff

“Souls of Living Wood” in Modern Magic got some nice comments from Elizabeth A. Allen in her Tangent review:
“Foster juggles the hilarious personalities of the obstreperous customers well with the genteel voice of the house in a story that’s surprisingly gentle”

New Words/Editing:
– 5K on the Swan Lake story (now titled “Black Swan, White Swan”) bringing it to zero draft. I foisted it upon fosteronfilm to first reader and did a pair of editing passes to get it to first draft. Loaded it to Critters.org this morning.

Such a relief and release to finish a fiction piece. This one was an experiment in present tense, a style I typically eschew as I think past is a better storytelling vehicle. Present is rarely done effectively and often has the undesirable effect of pulling the reader out instead of immersing them. But I thought this story, because of the rapid fire POV hops into my main character’s head, lended itself to present. I found myself writing all her internal dialogue in present–past tense threw the pacing off, lacking the off-balance quickness I was going for–so it made sense to have the rest of the story match. Curious to see how it’ll be received.

Matthew liked it well enough, although I think he would’ve said anything to get me not to play “Ave Maria” one more time. I assembled a playlist soundtrack/mix for this story–I was quite put out to discover that we don’t have Tchaikovsky’s complete Swan Lake suite on CD–which I ran on repeat while I was writing to keep me grounded in the mood. I gate out auditory input extremely readily, so didn’t notice how many times it looped. But he can’t disregard sound like I can.

The mix is 45 minutes long. I estimate it played somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 times in just the last few days.

Poor Matthew.

Received:
– Payment for my last freelance gig and specs for my next.

Club 100 For Writers
      44

500/day
      54

Kitchen Sink Mishap and Adventures in Banking

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This week has been less than sterling. Little things and big things have conspired to irritate and infuriate.

On the little, irritating things side, the lever on the kitchen faucet broke, as in snap-holding-a-piece-in-your-hand broke. fosteronfilm was turning on the water and then . . . he wasn’t.

Fortunately, this didn’t result in a panic-inducing geyser, or even a distressing dribble, for that matter. Still, it’s awkward doing anything in the kitchen without a ready water supply. After Matthew peered at the underside of the sink for a while and determined it was out of his DIY league, we phoned several plumbers and got a vastly diverse range of estimates from “I dunno how much it’d be; we’ll have to send someone out to look” (for what ought to be a basic installation) to “prolly around $175” to “$250 not including parts.”

Grumbling, we went to Home Depot to pick out a new faucet ensemble, and while there, I noticed that they do installations.

“How much?” we asked.

“$90,” they sez.

Still painful, but far less so. And while boggling at the wide range of faucet options available and their correspondingly wide range of prices, I mused aloud to the hubby: “I don’t understand why there’s such a huge price difference; what makes this $250 faucet better than this $69 one?” A helpful assistant person in an orange apron replied, “It’s all about the name brand and the finish. But they’ve all got lifetime warranties, so just pick one you like that fits your sink.”

Not only sage advice, but it made my brain ping. “They’ve all got lifetime warranties?” I queried, eying the Moen faucets.

“Yup, these brands always do.”

So we went home, sans faucet. I looked up the model of our broken Moen, emailed the company a “Lifetime Warranty?” note, and they got back to us the next day with a “sending you a new piece, expect delivery in 5-7 business days.” Wow! We didn’t have to mail them the broken faucet or anything. I’m not sure what exactly they’re sending us. A new handle will not be useful, as the connection is snapped through, but if they’re sending a new faucet, then we’re all good*. I am optimistic.

On the big thing, making-Eugie-livid front, trying to deposit my check from Faeries was every bit the wacky fun I’d anticipated, so much so that I still have the check.

Went to my local SunTrust branch, handed my check to the teller, and asked what the conversion rate was and if there was a fee for depositing it. After squinting at my weird money-paper with the funny words and asking what a “euro” was**, the teller looked up the conversion on her computer (bad but not unexpected), then said it would cost me a flat $25 fee to deposit it. I squawked. She called for backup, and subsequently revised the fee to $10. I asked for documentation, as the fee structure I have from both the website and the handout they gave me detailing the features and fees of my account list no such fee, and I want to know what I’m paying so I can go price compare at other banks. She referred me to their financial services rep.

Off I went to powwow with the financial services rep. This woman was equally clueless so phoned her supervisor for advice. She then said $60 and handed over a printout (hot off her laserjet), and circled a section under “Research Services” called “International Collections.” I explained that this wasn’t “research,” nor was it a “collection.” Unless they’re using new and different definitions, in banking and finance, a “collection” is when a creditor tries to recover a past-due payment, and “research” involves hunting down information that is not readily available.

She insisted she was correct.

Then Matthew pointed out that above it was a $20 fee listing for “domestic collections,” and if what she was saying was true, then it would cost everyone $20 anytime they wanted to deposit a domestic check, which was patently ridiculous.

Nevertheless, she stuck by her bogus claim.

Realizing there was no one there who knew squat and they were making it up as they went along, I retrieved my check and we went home.

Once home, I called my bank’s customer (dis)service line, and, after summoning a supervisor for assistance, the phone rep. declared “10% of the amount of the check” to deposit my French check.

That brought the total number of different fee amounts quoted to me for depositing my check to four. Spurious much? And there was no one else higher up to talk to.

So I contacted the Better Business Bureau and lodged a complaint.

Can anyone recommend a new bank?

*Well, except for installation.
**Geez, you’d think I was asking them to explain string theory. It’s a simple international transaction. I want to deposit a foreign check. A bank ought to be able to handle that, and a bank’s employees should at least be familiar with what the standard currency in Europe is.

   


Writing Stuff

I’m having a dry spell in the sales department (wah!), so feeling disheartened and needy, I did a vanity search. One of my hits was the Institute of Children’s Literature!

Deborah Vetter, my Cricket and Cicada editor, is an instructor there, and in her bio, I’m listed as one of the “distinguished writers” she’s worked with, along with Nancy Springer and Aaron Shepard. Me! A distinguished writer! *squee!*

So yeah. That helped.

New Words/Editing:
– 600 on the Swan Lake story.
– 600 on an article for Writing-World.com. Several editing passes and sent off. Waiting is.
– 1500 on the freelance gig.

Received:
– Payment and contrib. copies from Paradox for “The Archer of the Sun and the Lady of the Moon.” Huzzah!

Club 100 For Writers
      40

500/day
      50

Inverted Skunk and Touring Paleontologist

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It is sometimes difficult to figure which end of a skunk is up.

The other night I went to retrieve Hobkin for purposes of cuddling. In the shadows under the hutch and me without corrective eye wear, I had a moment’s confusion, unsure which end of the snoozing fur lump truncated in a nose and which a tail. Making what I thought was an accurate determination, I bundled Hobkin in my arms and carted him off.

fosteronfilm came in, and I squinted and commented offhandedly: “Wasn’t sure which end of Hobkin was which.”

Since I am myopic unto blind without my glasses, I couldn’t see his expression, but the tone of his voice was expressive. He replied, “Still haven’t worked it out, I see.”

Seems I was lugging a groggy and very perplexed skunk around head down. Of course, I righted him as soon as I realized, but he was miffed and wide awake by that time (usually I can carry him from the hutch to the chaise without waking him, and he just nestles in my arms). He glared at me and rightly decided he didn’t want to snuggle with the crazy lady; he scampered back to the hutch in a huff.

Oops.

On the non-upside down skunk front, our friend, Chris-from-Tennessee, came a’visiting over the weekend. He’s a Biology professor specializing in Ichthyological paleontology, and he’s conducting a summer seminar in Mexico. He drove to Chez Foster a couple days before his flight from Hartsfield-Jackson so we could hang out and catch up. It was a nice diversion from nose-to-the-keyboard, and he’s got a toddler daughter who I love hearing about. Chris’s wife is from China, and she speaks Mandarin to their daughter while he speaks English to her. I’m fascinated by the linguistic progress of an emergent bilingual child.

   


Writing Stuff

Been mulling my recent lack of fiction progress. The hamsters have been most troublesome even though I’ve slung away some of the bitier ones. And it occurred to me, as in bolt-out-of-the-blue smack-me-in-the face occurred to me, that I’ve been undermining the intrinsic motivation of my writing by pairing it too closely with financial reward.

There’s heaps of psychological studies that show how both creativity and interest decline whenever something once done for the pure joy of it is set on a reward schedule. As soon as gain becomes the driving purpose behind creative expression, enjoyment evaporates, and art becomes work–to the detriment of art and artist.

While I am indeed a working writer, struggling to pay the bills and all, there’s got to be a way to achieve a balance here. Yes, they’re linked in reality, but I need to isolate the money-making from the creative part on an emotional level. Already, I’m finding myself thinking along the lines of “these 300 words of website content that I’m ghostwriting will get me such-and-such amount, while I’ll be lucky if these 300 words of fiction–more grueling and draining to produce–will get me a fraction of that if I’m lucky.” And so I’m ending up cranking out the money-words and neglecting my fiction.

But how? Hrm. I need to implement a new reward structure, I think. So here’s what I came up with: From now on, fiction writing is no longer “work.” It is the reward for making progress on my freelance gigs, which are “work.” If I finish a reasonable daily quota of “work” I’m free to indulge my muse.

Well, the theory sounds good. ‘Course the true test is whether my restructuring results in any fiction productivity gains. Will revisit this as needed.

Man, when I unearthed my repressed psychologist, she went amok. Beware berserk psychology researcher . . .

New Words:
– 600 on the freelance gig.
– 1K on the resuscitated Swan Lake story. Hurray, fiction!

Received:
– Check from Faeries for “Returning My Sister’s Face.” In Euros. I anticipate wacky fun when I go to deposit it. I wonder how much my bank will try to shaft me for. Oh well, it can’t possibly be worse than their foreign wire transfer fee.

Club 100 For Writers
      36

500/day
      46

Insomnia, saved reef fishies, American badgers, bear-on-a-trampoline

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Insomnia rears its ugly head. Feh. Or maybe I’m still reeling from actually approving of something George W. did: protecting the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands. I’m delighted by this; it’s hands down the finest thing this administration has done. But the world’s turned all topsy-turvy. Me like George W.? Bush is Green? Zounds. It’s worse than trying to wrap my mind around string theory. But I’m cheering for the sea turtles and fishies, nevertheless.

Also watched a feature on American badgers on Animal Planet the other day. The title of the show was Badgers: Dishing the Dirt, so I was hoping that there would be Eurasian badgers as well as American, but it was only the American variety. Still, I absolutely adore badgers of any nationality. Yank badgers are so grumpy; I can’t help but be enchanted and awed by their ferocity. And they had footage of badgers with their winter coats! Normally American badgers look flatish, sort of like a skunk someone’s applied a rolling pin to. But in winter, they become round puffs. Adorable. There was much girlie squeeing.

And finally, herein a video of a bear on a trampoline. Seems a black bear popped up in a tree in a residential area in Missoula, MT. When they couldn’t get him down, they stuck a big trampoline beneath the tree and shot him with a tranq. Much funny bear fwing. Note: The bear’s okay. Although the video looks like he landed hard on his head, he’s fine, just really, really doped up. After his bounce-flop (and after he revived from the tranq), they released him back into the wild.

   


Writing Stuff

The Mobicon folks got back to me and, coolest of cool, they said “Yepper, yep.” So of course I did too. I’m going to Mobicon 2007, woo!

New Words:
– 1500 on a new freelance gig. Working hard. Making peanuts. Sigh.

I miss fiction writing. A lot. If I’m working this hard to earn match sticks, then I want to get more emotional gratification out of it. Lamentably, fiction earns fewer peanuts and is harder. Still, I think I need to consciously slot some time to indulge my muse before she gets in a huff, packs her bags, and goes off to stay with her mother.

Received:
– Acceptance from Skipping Stones for “How Rabbit Crossed the Sea.” I subbed to these folks because I love their editorial philosophy and the magazine’s mission: “Skipping Stones is a nonprofit children’s magazine that encourages cooperation, creativity and celebration of cultural and environmental richness.” Although I suspected from their guidelines that they didn’t pay. They don’t say whether they do or not, nor do they say what rights they want, but I figured since they accepted esubs, I’d ask if it became relevant.

It did, so I did.

No, they don’t pay (sigh). I much prefer it when markets are upfront about such things. And they’re asking for both (nonexclusive) print and electronic rights. I deliberated whether I wanted to give them the story. I mean, I’m all for writing as an art and for a cause, but I’m also a working writer, and I’m all for not starving too.

So I decided I’d be willing to part with print rights in the name of fostering diversity and multicultural education, but not electronic–as that would make it effectively available to the world instead of just Skipping Stones‘s subscribers, making it rather awkward to sell to a reprint market. Emailed the editor and waiting now to see if something can be worked out. Also suggested they explicitly state the “no money for contributors” thing in their GLs.

Club 100 For Writers
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500/day
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