I finally heard from my editor at Tangent! Whew. He’s a bit swamped and is slow at responding to email, but reviews are still going up in a timely manner. So, my review of “On Display Among the Lesser” by Carol Emshwiller in Sci-Fiction is up at Tangent. Rah.
Also managed 800 new words on the vague current effort. My muse is petulant and surly.
Realized I was terribly out of shape so decided to unroll the ole yoga mat and do some asanas. Owitch. How is it right that doing what amounts to stretches can make me so sore? Ow, ooo, ouch.
Writing stuff:
My muse was elusive this weekend so instead of forcing her to perform, and making myself sick in the process, I thought I’d try luring her with something other than caffeine. Cracked open the Neil Gaiman and some of my favorite children’s lit books like King of the Wind and The Cat Who Went to Heaven to re-read. No sign of my muse yet, but I’m enjoying my re-immersion into fiction I’ve loved.
Received a rejection from Flesh & Blood. They liked the writing, but it was too science fiction for them. I thought that might be the case, but since I’d classify what I sent them as science fantasy, and dark science fantasy at that, thought I’d give them a try.
Haven’t heard back from my editor at Tangent about the review I did for Sci-Fiction last week. That’s not like him. Usually he responds within a day or so. I’m worried that my emails aren’t making it to him. They’re not bouncing, but it’s not like him to be so non-communicative either. Hmm.
Also checked the RoF slush page. Carina’s picked up the next batch, and the last postmark date is 4/9. *&$@*%#! I missed this batch with a submission sent on 4/13. Sigh. Guess I’ll just have to wait for the next round. Damn.
Matthew and I were discussing the nature of my muse, and we came to the conclusion that she is a skanky crack whore. In all likelihood, this is a new state for her. She was probably at one time all la-la-la gossamer skirts and Grecian sandals. But because of me calling upon her to perform at all hours and getting her hooked on various and sundry stimulants (caffeine and sugar) and depressants (clonazepam), she is now a twitchy, buzzing, withdrawal-hopped ho in torn fishnet stockings and streaky make-up. She refuses to put out unless I get her flying on caffeine or chocolate, and she becomes surly and uncooperative at the least provocation.
It has not been a good writing day. 700 new words, and that was only after most of a pot of coffee. I feel queasy and headachy now.
In better news, while surfing for inspiration (rotten muse) I stumbled across another review of Hitting the Skids in Pixeltown by Rich Horton at the Speculative Literature Foundation that singles me and some of my fellow antho authors out for praise:
“Hitting the Skids in Pixeltown is a collection of stories by winners of the Phobos contest for short fiction . . . Best was a story by the fine new writer David D. Levine, ‘Ukaliq and the Great Hunt’, American Indian legends transposed to a new world. Also worth noting were stories by Eugie Foster, Carl Frederick, and Paul Pence.”
I’ve been looking for a picture of me in my bunny suit from Fantasm on Saturday. fings, the sweetie, linked me to a couple. This one was taken by conal_cearna and it has me and my “goody basket” of Ascendancy of Blood chapbooks and Blasphemy promos (and handcuffed plush bunny). *bounce*
Gotta love Easter!
Didn’t gnaw my arm off at my CAT scan, but someone, one of the receptionists I think, had her lunch with her, from which wafted the mouth-watering aroma of French fries. I think bringing French fries into a waiting room filled with people who have been instructed not to eat for several hours, at lunchtime, should qualify as a flogging offense.
Spent some time yesterday surfing various Fantasm review sites looking for a picture of me in my bunny outfit on Saturday. Have yet to find any, but I did find some mahvelous pix, from this year and last, taken by James Garner and Rev. Bob (Feel the Hate).
So I noticed some funky bruising on my thigh and arms after the weekend. Straining through the haze of revelry, I tried to remember what I could have possibly done that would have resulted in my blue-blackness. Drawing a total blank. Now, I’m a total lightweight when it comes to alcohol, but I didn’t drink that much. But all that revelry-haze straining did knock something loose, a remembered blurb about Imuran side effects. A quick surf later and yes, one of the “tell your doctor immediately” side effects is easy bruising.
After a chat with my rheumatologist, I am reassured that it isn’t the Imuran causing the bruising (since my platelet counts are apparently copasetic) but most likely the Prednisone I’ve been on for a year and a half. Long-term steroid use and all. And I say: This is supposed to reassure me??
I’ve been telling my doctor I want off the stupid Pred for months and months! I know what long-term use of the stuff can do to a body. And lo and behold, it’s doing it to my body.
Wah!
Going in on Friday for a CAT scan. Never had one of those before. I cleverly scheduled it for 1pm, and the instructions say not to eat for three hours beforehand. Hmm, that would be during my normal lunch. Dammit. By the time the thing is done with I shall probably be about ready to start gnawing on my arm.
Writing stuff:
Still fiddling about with marketing numbers in order to pretend that I’m doing something writerly while the words logjam in my head. Actually, I’ve got a story that’s beginning to coalesce. Been doing some research on the Japanese tanuki and finding myself intrigued by their mythology and charm. Got the dregs of an outline bouncing around, but nothing on paper yet. Not sure if this is a short story effort or a novella. Hoping to get it to burgeon into a novella, but right now I’ve got just about enough to make it a totally unsaleable length. Yup.
According to my records, “The Tax Collector’s Cow” marks my twenty-eighth sale. I’m two shy of thirty. Why is thirty a magic number? I dunno. It’s sort of an age of maturity number, I guess. It’s also nice and round. So, anyway, two more sales and I’m at thirty.
You hear that, editors? Want to give a gal a break and send me a couple more quick acceptances to make my numbers look good? Helloooooo!
Well, couldn’t hurt to give a shout out.
Fully back to the grind it is. They made me use my brain at work. And it hurts it does, my precious. Also realized that catching up on my email using the “last in, first out” method is not a good way of rectifying an already-tardy correspondence situation.
Watched The Rundown last night. That’s the A&A movie with The Rock and Seann William Scott. Lots of gratuitous violence. Fun, with a couple giggle-out-loud lines, but unmemorable overall. I don’t feel the need to see it again. There was a bit of vicarious satisfaction at seeing Seann William Scott being pummeled, though. I blame it on pent up annoyance at his Stifler character in American Pie.
Writing stuff:
Wrote a review of the new Sci-Fiction story for Tangent, but zero word count on new stuff. Been futzing about with marketing stuffs in order to keep up the pretense that I’m being productive.
In my hardcopy files, I keep a folder for each story’s correspondence. For stories currently making the rounds, they amass rejections in a cheapo file folder–one of those manila jobbies that’s just a fold of paperboard with a tab at the top. I shove rejections into the folder every which way and that file tends to get a bit mussed looking. Sold stories graduate to pocket folders. One side pocket holds past rejections, the other acceptance letter(s), contract(s), galley proofs, etc. It’s a much neater filing locale with no paper edges sticking out or stray envelopes jutting.
I take an inordinate amount of glee in being able to create a pocket folder straight out for a story, thereby skipping the “it’s been rejected, dammit” step. “The Tax Collector’s Cow” was the sixth story I’ve sold on its first trip out (not counting the excerpts I’ve sold to the ELP library as that’s their only trip to market). Rah!
Sent off the “I’m all happy with your terms” letter to Spider/Cricket. I’ve got two more folk tales sitting on my hard drive, waiting to go to them. I haven’t run them through Critters yet, but since I didn’t send “The Tax Collector’s Cow” through the queue, I’m wondering if I need to.
But also, I’m loathe to glut the Carus editors with my submissions. Less loathe now that they’ve bought stories from me that were overlapping in consideration time. Hell, less loathe now that they’ve bought five stories from me. But still uncertain. I’m worried that I’ll end up competing with myself or wear out my appeal with them or something.
I’ve currently got a submission with them at Cricket and one at Cicada. The two I’ve got waiting are both Cricket bound. Right now I’m thinking I want to give them a three month gap between submissions. ‘Course by the time August rolls around and I clear off these two, I’ll probably have a couple more bottlenecked. Oh, well. Could be worse.
I sold “The Tax Collector’s Cow” to either Spider or Cricket, “depending upon which magazine can place the story first”! Spider is another magazine from the Carus stable. And yup, that means another sale at a quarter a word. Woohoo!!
In less good news:
I got a pair of rejections from On Spec‘s guest editor. If I didn’t know he was only a guest editor, I’d be disinclined to submit to them in the future. The comment “I’m sorry, but this is just ‘writing'” bugged me. I’m not quite sure what he was expecting, finger painting? Oh, well.
Also got a nice rejection from Amazing Stories asking to see more. And a “nice writing here but failed to grab” from F&SF.
And I had to write my editor at Tangent again asking him to find another writer for my current review assignment. It’s matociquala‘s “This Tragic Glass” up currently at SciFi.com. Sorry, eBear, but I’m afraid I’d be biased writing a review of your work since we’ve exchanged friendly banter on LJ and at the Rumor Mill . . .
I’m awake and I really shouldn’t be. Everyone else in the house, skunk and human, has the decent sense to be deeply asleep. At least I’m not hung over. I don’t think I’m hung over . . .
Apparently the Ms. Fantasm Pageant judging sheet from last year was lost down some bottomless oubliette on my computer. Had to create a new one from scratch. But at least the contestant forms were still intact. Both are printed out and ready to go.
I still only have TWO judges, although in a pinch I can always push dude_the on stage as the “man on the street” judge. Three will perfectly acceptable.
Didn’t sew the sash edges together yesterday. Will do that tonight. Or I will scrounge up some safety pins. Going to brainstorm and then print out the Q&A questions, then we should be set. Whew. Nothing like a flurry of last minute activity to make a girl feel hectic, or productive, or something.
Still have no idea what I’m going to wear.
Did I totally flake out or are there not going to be Concoction and Iron Bartender contests this year?
Writing stats:
*snort* Yeah, right. Got a couple more offers from Critters to do RFDRs on my novella, but I declined them as I’m going to mail the thing out tomorrow.
Received a note from the Blasphemy anthology folks. Promo material is winging its way to me. Hope it makes it in time for the convention. No sign of my copies of “Ascendancy of Blood” from Scrybe Press either, but it’s got another day to make it.
Oh my god, I just realized I haven’t done any prep for the panels I’m scheduled for! Omigod, omigod, omigod! *scampers off to compile notes*
