Ann Crispin called me last night to personally congratulate me on having “All In My Mind” chosen as a Phobos finalist! She then suggested that I run the contract–wasn’t that awesomely sweet of her to assume I’d be a winner?–by her and Victoria Strauss when (if) it comes so that I can go into contract negotiations backed by their expertise. Ann’s a big writer’s advocate and she and Victoria do Writer Beware so know what they’re talking about.
Ann rawks!
I’ve got this looming “always a bridesmaid” feeling hanging over me. There’s just so many fiction projects I’ve got in the “you made it out of the main pile, and now we’re thinking seriously about giving you the big prize” category that my head’s about to issue sparks and fly off my neck in a pretty, blue and red fireworks display.
Listing them, to aggravate my torment:
– “All In My Mind” – Phobos Finalist
– “The Scent of Their Voices” – passed second reading at ASIM.
– “The Few, the Proud, the Leech Corps” – passed initial slush at Dreams of Decadance, email reply to query from the editor saying that she’s holding it for consideration and “quite likely to buy it.” But no further word since May.
– “My Friend Is a Lesbian Zombie” – shortlisted for the Launchpad anthology.
– “The Reign of the Wintergod” – held for two months at City Slab where anything held longer than a month is in “serious consideration.” Or maybe they just lost this one and I need to query. Eep.
I keep telling myself not to get too worked up over strong maybes ’cause down that path lies earth-shattering disappointment.
But I’m just dying over here from all the waiting and hoping. And the dreary, dreadful fear that all I’m going to end up with is another pile of rejection letters.
AGH!!
My patience reserves have gone the way of the dodo.
On an up note, I am looking forward to seeing yakdog et al. this weekend. Something to take my mind, however briefly, off my anxious twitching.
Omygodomygodomygod! Phobos just called me! Actually, they called my house, and I’m not at home–being at work currently. But my husband picked up, and I’m a FINALIST in their fiction contest!!
My cyberpunk story “All In My Mind” is one of the top 20 going on to final rounds!
*hyperventilating*
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Except, damn. I can’t remember what’s going to happen now. I remember that top entries win $500, and then the top three win another $500. Did I make the first $500 or not?
Dizzy with elation. Must. Look up. Contest rules. Now.
(Edit: Just looked up the rules. I haven’t got any money yet (pook). A panel of judges–including Orson Scott Card and Larry Niven!–are going to read the 20 finalists and then pick twelve winners. Those 12 get the $500 bucks and from their number come the top three. Did I mention that Orson Scott Card is one of my favorite authors? I repeat “EEEEEE!!”)
Received in my email when I got home regarding the story I re-wrote over the weekend and then sent out:
“Just informing you that you story has passed the
second round of readings at Andromeda Spaceways, so
we are seriously considering using your story at
some point.”
Now I know that stories passing the second round with these folks aren’t always picked up, but I’m still very pleased to have made it this far. Boing!
I think my left breast is bruised. And it didn’t get that way in any sort of fun, interesting fashion either.
Last night there was much storming–lighting, thunder, deluge of rain. Hobkin, being a small animal of wee brain, was a bit disconcerted by it. So I picked him up to comfort him, and he was hiding his head under my arm, clinging in the fuzzy, clingy way he gets when in stressful circumstances.
Then, for no reason that I can see, no sudden bang of thunder, no big flash of lightning, he gets too freaked to hold still and leaps off me to go scamper under the hutch in the kitchen and cower there. Using my breast as a launching point. Ouch.
And the odd thing is, the last thunderstorm didn’t phase him at all.
Silly beastie.
And ouch.
NPR junkie that I am, I was listening to All Things Considered as I was driving home from work yesterday. They were doing a report on assisted suicide in Switzerland. Apparently, although assisted suicide isn’t legal in Switzerland, it’s “widely tolerated.” The only organization (non-profit, of course) which is willing to help foreigners die is located there–damn, but I’ve forgotten its name–and many terminally ill Europeans who don’t have any alternative are going to Switzerland in order to die. There’s even a movement in Switzerland to officially legalize assisted suicide.
I find it heartening that there’s a place in the world that is sane and sensible on the matter of euthanasia. Did I mention that Jack Kevorkian is my hero?
But then there’s the aggravating counterpoint, which is the pro-life contingency that’s trying to shut them down.
Damn, I just don’t get the pro-life thing at all.
LIFE in and of itself doesn’t matter. It’s the quality of life which should be the yardstick upon which ethics are measured. And with that quality of life issue comes the fundamental right of being able to choose whether or not to keep on living, or pick up the tab, tip the waiter, and check out. Suicide being a crime (or a sin–not a word I have much truck with, being an Atheist and all) is one of the most ridiculous, ghastly, and appalling things I can conceive of.
So, I guess I’m starting off the morning feeling pissy and ranty. Well, better than sick and exhausted, I guess.
I’m so tired. I don’t know why. I’ve had plenty of sleep, but I’m just utterly exhausted. When I sit still, I get a sensation in my stomach like I’m falling and there’s a faint lassitude in my arms and legs.
Blah. Maybe Hobkin gave me his cold?
Hobkin is snoggy. He’s got a runny nose and last night had a coughing fit while curled up on my lap. He didn’t even wake up for it. He was snoozing like a fuzzy lump one second, hacking and coughing the next, and then back to fuzzy lumphood when it was over. Obviously, a cold appears to be no biggie for him.
Weekend has been productive. I re-wrote a story I’d tabled last year. I’ve improved a lot as a writer since then. The thing was really clunky. I culled over 500 words from a 5000-word piece without even flinching. Sending it out after a final spit polish, although it’s not one of my stronger works, even re-written. It’s the principle of the matter, I guess.
Also, we downloaded a free trial version of Nero Burning ROM 5.5. Much rockitude. We might have to buy this. VCDs are happy goodness. We cleared off over 5 gigs on our hard drive by burning some of the various digital movies that’ve been cluttering up our drive and we can play them on the DVD player! Boing. And we picked up 100 CD-Rs at Best Buy for ten bucks (after rebate). Zounds. They’re just giving the things away these days, aren’t they?
Matthew’s still sorting through all of our Dragon*Con pictures, but he showed me a few he took of me.
Matthew just called me. After a marathon session of phone tag, he was finally able to get a hold of our loan officer guy.
Haggling and number discussions ensued, resulting in a dizzying climax of: We have successfully refinanced to the tune of $200 less a month on our house!
WOOHOO!!
