Category Archives: LJ

The USPS has restorative powers, yes it does. At least when it’s responsible for delivering my contributor’s copy of Asylum 3: The Quiet Ward!

It’s beautiful! And it says I’m a “master of the macabre”! Well, it says that about all the writers in the anthology: “A collection of never before published short horror stories written by masters of the macabre, including some of the top new voices in horror fiction today.” But still, woo!

My library of published fiction continues to grow. And I feel much better now. *wobble* Well, better. Think I’ll go lie down again . . .

Me sick. Blargh. Staying home.

It’s the Autumnal Equinox! Happy Mabon!

Had a very hard time waking up and getting going this morning. Brain felt like it was stuck in a haze of peat moss. Needed coffee to get past the stare-blankly-at-monitor phase of my workaday. And I could still barely function on any sort of reasonable level.

Fortunately, it was a slow day at work. No fires to put out; no emergencies hurtling my way.

New word count: 0 Dammit.

Hobkin is shedding. There’s fur everywhere. Everywhere! I guess he’s getting ready to put on his winter coat. He’s already gained some winter weight, which worries me as we’re trying to get him to lose a pound or so. Skunks are notoriously prone to obesity and Hobkin is looking a bit more bottom heavy these days than is healthy.

He was quite restless yesterday. I think he was bored or didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d hop onto the couch to cuddle next to me for a few minutes, and just as I thought he was nodding off, he’d jump up, leap off the couch, and go trundling around the living room. Then after a minute or so of that, he’d hop back up on the couch with me. Silly fuzzwit.

I often worry about his general happiness. Matthew and I decided to have only one skunk so we could focus our attention on him and he would bond with us. There are complications to having multiple pets, not the least of which is introducing them to each other and the possibility of incompatible personalities, fighting, jealousy, etc. Plus there are times when it’s all we can do to keep Hobkin out of mischief. Doubling the number of rambling skunks would be overwhelming and might result in them being locked away for periods of time. As it is now, we spend a lot of time at home and most of that time Hobkin is with us. He’s usually being cuddled in my lap or arms, or sleeping curled up at my side, so he gets plenty of human attention. But I still wonder if he’d like a skunk playmate.

I dunno. We’re sticking with our one pet resolution, but I really hope Hobkin isn’t lonely. We’re taking him to a skunk show next month. We’ll see how he handles that experience. I’m already more than a little trepidatious about it.

Hobkin woke me up this morning at 7am demanding his breakfast. Grumble. Now he’s slumbering under his hutch and Matthew’s dead asleep, and I’m wide awake. Typical.

Had a lovely evening last night with britzkrieg and her fiancé. We went to see The Merry Wives of Windsor at the Shakespeare Tavern. Matthew and I have seen them do this play before and greatly enjoyed it, and they excelled with repetition. Laughed ourselves silly we did. And I think last night’s was better than the previous performance, if that’s possible. Got to meet britzkrieg‘s pride of felines. Quite a houseful of glowing eyes and velvet paws! Absolutely adorable. I greatly enjoy our get-togethers with them. We need to hang out again soon.

Also got a surprise email from gannet (waves), who found me via LJ. We know each other from high school but had lost contact. Delighted to have a chance to catch up with some of the old crowd. Nostalgia nostalgia nostalgia. Ain’t the Internet grand?

In less happy news, got a rejection from Argosy and Glimmer Train. At least the Argosy one had a scribbled note on it: “Not for us, but nice. Thanks & good luck.” So the editor seems to have read the whole story and thought well enough of it to put encouraging pen to page. But I didn’t even get a note from Glimmer Train. I just thought “hmm, they’re taking longer than usual” and went to their website to check the status of my submission. I was displeased to see that it had been marked “complete” (i.e. rejected). Don’t know for how long it had been processed without me getting word. But at least I know now.

These two rejected stories I consider two of my best and are a couple of my favorites. Sigh. Out they go again on Monday. They will find homes, dammit.

Stolen from dire_ephiphany

Psychological Nightmare

What sort of Nightmare are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Slept something like twelve hours last night and I’m totally out of it. I feel like my brain is coated in a viscous cotton candy swamp and I want nothing more than to go back to sleep. But I really think twelve hours ought to be plenty, dammit.

The bed looks awfully comfy, though.

Anyway, 1100 words (give or take) on the novel. Got briefly stumped on a scene I wanted to write but didn’t know how to approach. Then had a conversation with Matthew about something totally off the subject and it clicked. Words on the page commenced.

Can barely think. Want to sleeeppp . . .

Just read in the SFWA online update that they’re planning to change the qualifying pay requirements for a market to be deemed “pro” from three cents a word to five cents. The decision needs to be confirmed by the counsel to be finalized, but the membership board unanimously passed it.

On one hand, it’s high time the rate change is made. Three cents a word has been the minimum “professional” rate for decades, in defiance of basic economic realities like cost of living and inflation. Frankly, calling even five cents a word a “professional” rate is laughable, much less the previous three cents. A writer would still be way below the poverty level if they were to try to earn a living based solely upon short fiction sales at five cents a word. Hell, it’s nearly impossible for a novelist, much less a short story writer, to make a decent living these days.

On the other hand, it’ll make it much more difficult for earnest SFWA applicants and borderline markets to qualify. Some previously qualifying markets will probably lose that distinction unless they increase what they pay writers, which may strain already shaky markets into bankruptcy. And the SFWA risks being viewed (moreso) as overly elitist by its potential target members.

I dunno. On a personal level it doesn’t impact me all that much. I’ve got two solidly qualifying sales at any criteria level (Cicada and Cricket) under my belt and two other sales that may qualify, pending committee review. Although they look less likely if this increase passes. Paradox pays three to five cents a word. They may up their rate to five cents, but they’re a very new publication. I worry about the financial stability of any beginning publishing enterprise. Phobos Books already pays a minimum of six and a half cents a word (more depending upon length of story) for their contest winners, but I’m pretty sure they only pay four cents a word for their Galaxy anthology. But again, they may increase their rates if this passes in order to qualify.

But even if Paradox and Phobos don’t end up qualifying, I fully expect to make a solid third sale eventually. I’m pretty confident I’ll qualify for active membership in the fullness of time. It might be a little fuller than I had first thought, but it’ll happen. So I guess it’s not an impossibility for a veritable unknown to rise to the ranks of active membership even at the new increased rates. But it just got somewhat harder. Not sure what to think about this development.

Shunting aside the business and political end of writing in favor of the important stuff:
New words on the novel: 1300, anti-words: 200

And I’ve pulled down a couple stories from Critters to review. One of them is the first two chapters of a novel from a regular critter and a person I consider a friend. I always look forward to his submissions in the queue. He frequently manages to surprise me. I always think his efforts are going to be solid Fantasy, and then I discover there’s a major Science Fiction element underlying the whole thing. Neat.

This is really sad, but I have to say it. I like programming. It’s not a 24×7 thrill ride or big, shiny endorphins firing round the clock, but as far as day jobs go, I’m okay with it. There’s something terribly satisfying about being presented with a problem or task, creating a process that didn’t exist before, and then watching it run successfully. Plus there can be a certain elegance to a well-written program.

On the writing front I made another 2000 words of progress on the novel. And again, I’m pretty sure they’re crappy. But at least they’re coming. I’ll spit polish and sand the damn things into shape later. But as long as the words are coming, it’s good.

On the mother-visiting front, Matthew pointed out we need my mother’s husband’s last name (and I assume her last name now) to make their hotel reservations. We appear to have mislaid the wedding announcement and are tearing the place apart looking for it.

It is terribly surreal that I can’t remember my stepfather’s (and probably my mother’s) last name. It’s one of those things I feel I should, I dunno, know. Hell, I’m not sure I have the proper pronunciation of my stepfather’s first name down. Damn it. This is very weird.

(edit: The hotel was okay with us making the reservation without their last name. Whew.)

Monday kicked my ass at work again. Tipped over on the couch early last night and woke up to Matthew handing the phone to me. It was my mother calling from China. Between the wretched overseas connection and me being dazed from waking from a sound sleep, I don’t remember much of the conversation. Except she wants us to make hotel arrangements for her visit.

Not sure if that triggered it or if it was just not my night for peaceful slumber, but when I went back to sleep, my nightscape was filled with really disturbing, really vivid dreams. Nothing horrifying or nightmarish, just unpleasant. Yuck. I hate that unsettled, surreal feeling in the morning after a night of freaky dreams. Morning is when the dreams go away, dammit.

In better news, my muse has returneth–with a vengeance even. Did about 3500 words on the novel. Yes, the novel. I’ve got the whole thing outlined, but I can’t gauge how long it’s going to be. I’m into chapter ten out of twenty-five, which would seem to indicate about halfway with 20K words solidly in the bag, but the major plot complications are yet to come. It feels more like I’m a third or even a quarter of the way into it. I dunno. It’s going to be shortish as novels go in any case, unless I’m really underestimating chapters eleven through twenty-five, which I probably am.

I need less speculation on the novel’s structure and more writing, dammit. This is very different from writing short stories. 3.5K words would be the bulk of a short story and this was just a bitty-teeny plot/character development portion. It doesn’t help that I suspect the new word countage is mostly crap. I hit flow so didn’t bother going over my initial words-on-page, which are usually extremely raw. I need several passes of my internal editor before my prose even approaches zero draft status. I’m a bit anxious about how bad it probably is since I haven’t produced anything new since Dragon*Con. But, at least I got words on the page.

Also finished the rewrite of my “squicky” story and it’s out. Cut about two hundred words and added in a touch more dialogue for clarity. Let’s see if I can sell this baby. Fly, my little one! Fly!

I’m making writing progress. Rah.

Finally! The listing on Shocklines.com for Asylum 3: The Quiet Ward is no longer listed as “out of stock” and now says “usually ships within 2-3 business days.” I don’t know what sort of shipping situation Prime Books had with their printer, but I’m glad it’s working itself out now.

‘Cept it’s still listed as “unavailable” on Amazon.com.

And I have yet to receive my contrib copy. Grumble.