Category Archives: LJ

My subwoofer is haunted

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I’ve mentioned before that my house seems to be mildly haunted, especially the electrical system. Actually, it’s a tossup between ghostly activity or fey mischief, but whatever the fantastical root cause, another weirdness happened yesterday. While I was working upstairs in the library, jamming to the Opera Babes, my subwoofer suddenly blared out male voices speaking incomprehensible gibberish. Definitely not Opera Babes. Since I was doing something with IE at the time, I thought I’d accidentally stumbled upon a website with annoying sound effects* and slapped the mute button on my laptop. No more Opera Babes, but the gabblespeak kept coming out. It faded away in a couple seconds as I stared with unnerved incomprehension at my speaker.

Huh.

Today I’m playing some Loreena McKennitt and Vienna Teng, a pianist/vocalist yukinooruoni recently introduced to me, to see if that mollifies or incites the fey/phantoms to repeat their auditory outburst. So far, only lilting female voices.

In other unworldly amusement news, I discovered a little bit of whimsy that has restored a smidgen of my faith in society. There’s got to be greatness in a culture that comes up with The Necronomicon as a plush book for pre-schoolers. Yep, you too can give a lucky toddler of your acquaintance a plushy book that summons Elder Gods. I totally want one.

*[rant] I hate websites that play unbidden music or have sound effects, especially ones that don’t provide me the option of turning them off. If I’ve got my speakers on, it’s because I want to hear what I’m playing, not have some noise pollution foisted on me. [/rant]

   


Writing Stuff

Inspired by wicked_wish‘s LJ post of her new work area in their Seattle digs, I decided to likewise post images of my writing environment. My cluttered desk:


The shelf behind my laptop is where I store all my writing paperwork–a folder for each story to hold contracts, rejections, notes, and other editorial/agent correspondences, receipts, etc. Above it are the two shelves where I keep my contrib. copies (along with various family publications–the couple mystery novels my dad-in-law wrote, the library cataloging reference books my mom wrote, etc.) and, of course, the boring-but-obligatory office supplies.

Off to the left, in the sibling bookcase, you can see in a frame my very first acceptance letter, the one from Cicada for “The Adventures of Manny the Mailmobile.” And dangling from the frame, my Phobos Award.

The pyramid painting above the printer is nice, but it’s more to fosteronfilm‘s taste. I’d like to replace it with something more Eugie-ish eventually, maybe an enlargement of one of my story illustrations.

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Hobkin’s Spring Tummy

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Hobkin’s not feeling well, which might explain his lackluster behavior on Friday. Not a very nice birthday present for the poor lil guy. His tummy’s upset; he’s been sicking up his dinners, and the food that makes it through his system goes through . . . too fast. Again, I’m very, very thankful he’s so good about being sick exclusively in his area.

This has become a seasonal thing for him. When Spring comes around, his GI tract turns all delicate and fussy. It really worries me. fosteronfilm thinks it’s just something that happens, the way babies just get sick all the time. But I’m inclined to fret and stew.

Hobkin remains active and alert, with a good appetite, and using the “scruff test”* he’s not dehydrated, so there’s not much reason for him to see the vet again. We’ve brought him in for this before, and they haven’t been able to figure out what’s causing it. They give us some anti-nausea meds and tell us to treat the symptoms, a regimen we’ve got down. His yearly blood work has always come back fine–into the “excellent” spectrum, typically–so it’s not something that seems to be impacting his overall health, nutrition absorption, and other long-term factors. But I just wish I knew what was causing this. I keep wondering if he’s got some sort of food allergy, but it manifests mostly during specific times of the year, and we haven’t changed anything in his diet recently.

Wah!

*We learned with the ferrets a down-and-dirty way to check whether a critter is dehydrated: Pinch the fur at the scruff of their neck and release it, and if the fur doesn’t de-scruff immediately, they’re dehydrated.

   


Writing Stuff

Did some more fiddling with my website over the weekend: added a couple new markets to my Children’s Market Listing, adjusted some font settings on my CSS page, tweaked some content, and made some layout adjustments. Also realized that I can now embed my LJ using JavaScript instead of the in-line frames I’ve been reduced to before.

A website is never “done,” is it? I’ve got to just put the thing aside and get back to writing. It’s sucking up way too much of my time, and I’ve got a backlog of stories that I ought to be working on.

Beginning to eye my submission spreadsheet. I’ve got several stories out that have responses due any day now on. I try not to dwell on response times, since down that road lies madness. (Maaaadness!) But, well, insanity happens. Also, there’s a couple markets that I submitted multiple stories to (in one case at their request, in the other I just had two stories that were appropriate pop into availability during their reading period) where they ended up buying one but didn’t mention the other(s). Should I treat that as an oblique rejection, I wonder? I’ve queried one place, no word back yet. Debating when/if I should query the other.

I frequently multi-sub to a couple places–the Cricket folks most notably–but those are publications I’ve sold to before and I know the routine. But these markets are break-in sales for me, and in one case the publication is new. Snoglewart. I should quit mulling and just query already. There’s probably a “and this, boys and girls, is why you shouldn’t multi-sub” moral in there, but I’m a fan of multi-subs so my internal narrator can get stuffed.

Hobkin’s 4th B-day: tomorrow

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Wingstubs hurting me a lot these last couple days. Not helping my stymied writing mindset. But, since it hurts to make words, I give you pictures!

It’s Hobkin’s birthday tomorrow. The lil guy will be four years old.


Hmm. He looks a bit depressed. Is four a big milestone year among skunks, I wonder?


I don’t think he wants a lot of fanfare for this birthday. I bet he’ll feel differently when it’s cake time.

   


Writing Stuff

Published:
I saw on the Galaktika website that #193 is out with my story “All in My Mind” in it, in Hungarian. Looking forward to getting my contrib. copies . . . and check. The cover’s very SFnal shiny:

Received:
– An editing tweak request for my Aegri Somnia story, “Nothing of Me.” Pondering.
– Note from the Modern Magic editor asking me to confirm my mailing address for my contrib. copy. Must be getting close now . . .

Pictures and Power

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Watched the new episode of House last night. Does Michelle Trachtenberg only play imperiled-and-annoying teeny-boppers??

In a fit of cat waxing, I scanned in and printed out some of my favorite illustrations from various stories I’ve had published. I’m adding them to the existing decor on the walls of my library office. Pretty and inspirational to combat those times when I’m hammered by writerly angst and frustration.

Like now.

In the process, I Googled the artists, and I was delighted to stumble across the full painting of “Returning My Sister’s Face” by Allen Douglas. The one in Realms of Fantasy had text across it, and I think they cropped it slightly when they published it.

Now I’m wondering what contracts for magazine illustrations and other commissioned artwork are like and how they compare to the sorts of contracts I see as a writer. Also wondering whether the original is for sale. Not that I could afford to buy it even if it was . . .

And I need more frames.

   


Writing Stuff

Still haven’t heard back from Tangent‘s webmaster regarding our forum spamming problem, so armed with a greater understanding of cPanel features after my virtual move, I went into Tangent‘s back end and banned the IP addresses of some of the most egregious offenders all by myself.

I have the power! . . . I think.

Editing:
– Finished up the edits on “Nothing of Me” and sent them back for approval.

Virtual relocation: packing, moving truck, and unpacking–cardboard boxes everywhere

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Decided to move eugiefoster.com to a new host on Sunday for a bunch of reasons, including so I could have greater server-side control and so I wouldn’t have to use a domain mask anymore; each page now has its own URL.

For folks using my Children’s Markets Listing, you might want to update your bookmarks to: www.eugiefoster.com/kidmarkets.htm. I’ve got a redirect from the previous address, but y’know, there it is.

There’s a lot of coordination involved with shunting a virtual thing from one cyberlocation to another. It reminded me a lot of a physical move–a process I absolutely abhor–with virtual parallels to packing, carting everything over to the new place, and then unpacking and deciding where everything should go. I didn’t have to fret over the burly guys in the moving trucks breaking or losing my stuff, but I did have a couple virtual “Agh! Where did I pack the can opener?” moments.

Packing–that is, informing my domain registrar of the new server locale, and sorting through/neatening up my files–went smoothly, but there was a slight holdup with the carting stuff over part. Actually, that went about as smoothly as a crocodile with a rash, resulting in mad scrambling and hair pulling. If anyone sent an email to me at my eugiefoster.com address on Sunday evening and I haven’t responded, you might want to resend it. There was a half hour to forty-five minute in there during which I fear some incoming emails may have been flung into a deep, dark cyber-oubliette.

After everything got properly relocated, as I was “unpacking,” I decided to do some structural tweaks. These “tweaks” sucked up all my attention yesterday and this morning, and they still aren’t done. However, I’ve got a backlog of writing/editing work that’s clamoring for my attention, and I’m having to back-burner it.

If you swing by my website, I hope you’ll excuse the mess. (Also, if folks not using IE as their web browser could let me know if there’s anything which looks really bizarre, that would be greatly appreciated.)

   


Writing Stuff

Received:
– Edits from Jason Sizemore on my Aegri Somnia story, “Nothing of Me.”
– Contract from Gisele LeBlanc for “A Patch of Jewels in the Sky.” It’s slated for publication in Dragonfly Spirit in June.
– 6-day rejection from new UK ‘zine, Forgotten Worlds, with invite to submit again. Strange wording/spelling snafu on the rejection made me do a double-take: “Thank you for your resent submission to Forgotten Worlds. We regret that it has been unsuccessful.” The misspelling of “recent” caused me to pause for a moment, wondering if they’d asked me to “resend” my story–and I had totally forgotten any such happenings–and through some electronic boo-boo, they hadn’t received it. But then I figured my memory’s not that fractured yet, and besides, how would they know it hadn’t been successful if they hadn’t received it? So yeah, it’s a rejection. Check.

Sunday: Day of Chocolate

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Feeling better today. Not well, but better. Got me a pot of green tea and a snack bowl of chocolate chips–once fated to become cookies, now they are pure, unadulterated chocolate therapy.

It occurred to me while we were up north that both my mom and fosteronfilm‘s share an odd quirkiness. While we were there, we wrestled as much of the cooking and cleaning tasks away from his mom as we could (a Herculean undertaking in and of itself). I decided to make some beer bread on Friday to go with dinner, and mid-ingrediant assemblage, I discovered that she doesn’t have any measuring spoons. Not one. And she’s only got one measuring cup–a heavy Pyrex thing with demarcations for a range of increments.

I could work with the jumbo Pyrex measuring device, but that didn’t help with the smaller measurements I needed for salt, sugar, and baking powder. She did have a Gloria Jeans coffee measuring scoop, but frustratingly, it didn’t say anywhere on it what size it was. I took a wild guess that it was 1 tablespoon, but upon consultation with Matthew (after I had already measured out and dumped in the aforementioned ingredients), I think it’s more likely it was 2 tbls. This resulted in the completed beer bread being too dense and salty, although husband and in-laws assured me it was fine. But then, they’re obligated to say that, even if I served them unbaked dough in silt. But kindly relative sentiments aside, it was too dense and salty.

It seems that Matthew’s mom doesn’t use measuring spoons. On those occasions where she needs to dump in a tablespoon or a teaspoon of something, she uses tableware to approximate it. I remember my mom doing the same thing when I was little. So now I’m wondering if it’s coincidence or a generational thing.

Anyway, the next time we go up to visit Matthew’s folks, I’m packing along a set of measuring spoons.

   


Writing Stuff

Researching Japanese poetry and song styles, specifically Imayo, the popular song form of the mid- to late-Heian Era. Got a little carried away with the researching yesterday, resulting in relatively few words on the page.

The thing is, I’m not a poet. I’m in awe of writers like mtrimm1 and time-shark who can pull off both prose and poetry with facility, but I really can’t. I do prose and that’s it. Period. But the story I’m working on requires that I have a few lines of Imayo speckled in as part of the storyline, which leaves me having to come up with something appropriate that’s both authentic-sounding and that doesn’t make me (or more importantly readers) want to cringe. It doesn’t even have to be a full poem, in fact it shouldn’t be, because a full poem–even one as short as an Imayo–would risk grinding the story’s pacing to a snail’s limp, but I’m ye verily angsting over those couple of lines.

Meep.

New Words:
300 on “Birds of White Rhythm.”

My thoughts were pretty fragmented yesterday, and with the poetry thing and all, I ended up skipping scenes. Great for forging ahead when I’m stuck on what’s going to happen next, but now I gotta figure out how to connect the pieces.

Club 100 For Writers
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Saturday: Day of Pain

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Today is going to be all about the chemicals versus the pain. Thus far, I have downed: 1 20 MG Adderall XR capsule, 2 Sudafeds, 2 Extra Strength Tylenols, and 1 pot of green tea. Hoping that the wracking headache and drooping sense of fatigue lift shortly. I think it must be something about the turning of the season. I seem to remember having similar headaches at this time last year. Unhappy sinuses, maybe? Or maybe it’s the little man with the iron club inside my skull. Ow.

Also, to my great distress (and near myocardial infarction), the smoke alarm went off a little while ago–the one right outside the library door where I’m working. Very double not good on nerves or for headaches. I’m still rather baffled as to what set it off, as well as what prompted it to cease its ear-shattering wails. I’m thinking it was a mischievous fey or ghostie. Or perhaps it was the cinnamon in my cream of wheat.

My brain hurts.

   


Writing Stuff

reddherring1955 put together three fantastic writerly “Ten Reasons” lists: “Ten Reasons Why I Write,” “Ten Negative Things I Have Learned (Mostly About Myself) from Writing Fiction,” and “Ten Positive Things I Have Learned from Writing Fiction.” I’d link to them, except the big chicken has friends-locked that post ( you know I love you, Swamp Queen).

Edit: reddherring1955 unlocked her post! Therefore, I give you listie goodness.

Received:
– My contrib. copies of April’s Cricket with my story “The King of Rabbits and Moon Lake” in it. Cricket always puts out a gorgeous publication, and this is no exception. My story has three illustrations in it (by Patrick Gannon), and I spent a chunk of yesterday afternoon squeeing over them. Actually, and I’m a little embarrassed admitting this, but every time I read “The King of Rabbits and Moon Lake,” I get teary-eyed. I feel particularly foolish when my own stories make me cry–the realization that my writing brain is manipulating the rest of me, or something–and in this case I’m weepy and sniffling like a ninny over a tale of bunnies and elephants. Still, red-rimmed eyes notwithstanding, it’s those stories that tug at my emotions that I end up loving the most. I’m so glad this one found such a good home.
– 137-day pass from Cicada. Alas, it wasn’t a good fit, falling between what they’re seeking for either Cicada or Cricket. But I also found out that my Cricket/Cicada editor is also a fan of Doctor Who, which is just way cool.
– 3-day email from the assistant editor of Baen’s Universe letting me know she’s passing my story up the line for consideration by Eric Flint. Crossing my fingers. A lot.

Gin, tater-tots, and explodie things

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Yesterday, I drowned my not-writer’s-block in gin, gorged on tater-tots, and watched a light and fluffy blow-em-up movie: Mr. & Mrs. Smith.

Yeah, gin is probably not the healthiest way to deal with writerly frustrations, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And considering what alcohol does to my system (my GI tract is in full rebellion today), it’s not like I don’t pay for my mild excesses–very mild even, I had one drink. I’m such a lightweight.

But hey, it worked!

   


Writing Stuff

New Words:
700 words on a new Japanese Fantasy: “Birds of White Rhythm.”
It seems that after I made peace with the notion of not working on either the novel or the folktale, my muse relented. I even managed to come up with an appropriate title right off the bat.

Or, I suppose it could’ve been the gin.

Club 100 For Writers
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After a couple days of not-writer’s-block I’m back to 1 again. Sigh.

500/day
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Colin Firth and Big Monkey

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Finally got to watch Pride and Prejudice, the mini-series with Colin Firth. Yup, there’s oodles of yumminess there. fosteronfilm was perplexed as to what it was I (and all the other Firth-fans) found so delectable about Mr. Darcy. I summed it up as “sexy-but-vulnerable-arrogance,” but I don’t think he gets it.

Also saw the new King Kong, courtesy Netflix, and I really liked it. When I saw it was 3+ hours, I thought I’d be clamoring “big monkey already, dammit!” through the whole beginning, but surprising myself, I thought it was well paced. The characters had depth, even (or perhaps especially) Jack Black’s, and I am Naomi Watts’s newest fan. Not only is she teh hotness, but I’m astonished how much emotion she managed to convey with so few lines. And, of course, there were indeed many excellent big monkey scenes. Although why anyone would ever want to go to Skull Island is beyond me. Giant leggy worms . . . *shudder*

   


Writing Stuff

It appears the Tangent forum has been discovered by spammers, and they are seriously ticking me off. There’s especially one repeat spammer who I’ve IDed and reported to their ISP’s abuse address, and he STILL keeps posting his stupid little spam links. I delete them as soon as they pop up, and I’ve asked our webmistress if there’s a way to block individual IP addresses but haven’t heard back from her yet. Anyone know of anything else I can do? Argh. So annoying.

Received:
– Contrib. copies of #292 of Ennea with “Fade to Black” in Greek in it. Rah.
– Galley proofs of “Souls of Living Wood” from William Horner for Modern Magic. Also got to see the full-sized artwork that’ll be accompanying my story, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. I don’t know if I’m allowed to display it, so if you’re curious, it’s the house illustration on the Fantasist Enterprises Modern Magic page. But bigger.
– 50-day “well received here, but . . . ” from Abyss & Apex with invite to submit again.

New words:
Zero. Zip. Nada. There’s no such thing as writer’s block. *twitch* There’snosuchthingaswriter’sblock! *pant pant pant*

Whimper.

The Heian Era is still very much at the forefront of my muse processes, and I’m wondering if I should just run with one of the stories ideas there instead of trying to force a folktale or novel chapter when those simply aren’t gelling right now.

I hate my muse.

Muse food from Lethe Press!

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Lookie what mroctober gave me! Muse food from Lethe Press! Aren’t they beautiful?


From left to right: The Story of Oriental Philosophy by L. Adams Beck, Legends of the City of Mexico by Thomas A. Janvier, Shallow Empire, poetry by Sou MacMillan, Stranger Than Fiction: Welsh Ghosts and Folklore by Mary L. Lewes, and Irish Witchcraft & Demonology by St. John D. Seymour.

I’m already nose deep into The Story of Oriental Philosophy and making periodic forays into the Sou MacMillan poetry. Squee! Thank you, Steve!!

But now I really need to grow another head so I can devote one to reading full time.

   


Writing Stuff

Got an email from a fellow writer in Budapest whom I didn’t know was Hungarian. She saw that a Hungarian translation of “All in My Mind” was forthcoming in Galaktika in April and sent me snaps. I asked her if she’d be willing, if I sent her the English version, to give me a summary of how good the translation was. I’m always a bit anxious to know how my foreign language translations turn out. One of my writers group peeps is Greek, so I’ve got a thumbs up from him on the Greek translations, and I can more or less stumble through the French on my own. But for the Polish and now Hungarian translations I’ve just been crossing my fingers.

Anyone out there read Polish?

This meme has been floating around my flist, and since my muse decided to play hide-n-seek yesterday (mostly hide), here’re my 10 things:

Ten Things I Learned from Writing Fiction

1. Write. Write more. Keep writing. Then write something else. Don’t stop writing.
2. There are stories out there begging to be written. Once you start looking for them, you’ll find them everywhere. Just remember not to get so wrapped up finding the stories that you forget to write them.
3. There are no rules to writing, just guidelines. Use what works for you and don’t angst about going against the common wisdom.
4. Get other people to read and critique your work. They’ll catch things you miss, and you will miss things, no matter how vigilant you are.
5. If you want to be published, you must have a thick skin. Rejection is a part of the biz, as is criticism–and sometimes most crushing of all, indifference. Don’t snark at folks who reject your stuff; take it in stride and either learn from it or let it roll off (or both). After all, they’re not rejecting you, just that particular configuration of words you put together.
6. Trust your instincts, but be open to suggestions. No matter how good you are (or think you are), you can always be better . . . or wrong.
7. If you thought being a writer meant you’d never have to talk in public again, you were mistaken. (*sigh*)
8. Write for you. Write what you love. Write what you want to read. Be passionate about your story, your words, and your characters. Cherish what you write with a burning, fiery, obsessive madness. It’s the best (and oftentimes only) reward for writing. Anything less and you might as well be a cubicle monkey; cubicle monkeys earn a helluva lot more for their souls.
9. Writers are insane, especially if they do it full time (see #8). If you hang out with writers, expect some dementia to pop up.
10. Writing is staggeringly hard (see #9).

Received:
– Payment from Oceans of the Mind for “The Few, the Proud, the Leech Corps.” Yay!

Editing/No new words:
My muse was not kind. I did one editing pass on the second section of The Novel, tentatively titled The Goddess of Beauty and War, and then *poof* no words. Snartleblast. Since I got so many folks clamoring for that Egyptian folktale, aiming my muse that-away instead.

Also did do a couple editing passes on “A Thread of Silk” and did indeed decide to stick on an prologue.

Club 100 For Writers
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