Category Archives: LJ

Blood, blood, and biters

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The hospital vampires took their two vials. I’m quite fond of the main technician there. She’s both extremely pleasant and speedy proficient with the sticker. fosteronfilm and I had a discussion about needle technology. He thinks they’ve improved since he was a wee bairn, smaller needles with larger openings or something like that, because overall the blood letting procedure is much less painful and arduous than it used to be. I’m not so convinced that it’s the technology and not just a run of good techs. However, we are agreed that the little plastic collection thingy that allows them to switch vials without having to withdraw the needle is a lovely invention.

In other blood-related news, the vet called with Hobkin’s blood test results. He got a clean bill of health. Hurray! In fact, the vet said that Hobkin’s numbers were VERY good, not just “acceptable” but excellent. The only exception was his calcium levels which, while in the normal range, could stand to be higher. So, more cottage cheese and instant milk for our skunk. I’m just so delighted and relieved that his blood panel came out so well. More proof positive that omnivores thrive on a vegetarian diet.

In less good news, fosteronfilm went out to mow the lawn yesterday, and while he was doing some preliminary weeding, he disturbed a nest of fire ants. They nailed him four times on his hands before he could shake them off. Man, those buggers are vicious. So my hubby spent the next hour icing his bites and the evening in a Benadryl haze. Poor Matthew! And, of course, the lawn went another day without mowing. That’s something we didn’t have in Illinois, fire ants. Scary enough to make burly contract workers scream like little girls and go running pell mell away. In our first year here, we were ye verily puzzled at the behavior of these hairy, macho, grunting men we’d hired when they were constructing our sun room and encountered a fire ant hill. We thought, “It’s just some ants, sheesh” and mocked the big, burly contractors (behind their backs, of course, because we are neither insane nor foolhardy). Since then, we have come to understand the peril and menace which are fire ants. Fortunately, I haven’t been bitten, but considering how much more sensitive I am to insect venom, and how brutal fire ant bites are, I’m hoping to continue that trend. I’ve never been stung by wasp or bee either, so I have no idea whether I’m allergic.


Writing Stuff

Ooo! I received my contrib. copies, the contract, and invoice form for “All in My Mind” that was reprinted in Polish in Nowa Fantastyka. Yay! It’s strange receiving a contract after a story has been published, but it’s not like I’m about to make a fuss. I’m just pleased that I’m going to get paid. Not to mention that I now have copies of this story in a language I can’t read. How cool is that?

And another “ooo!” The Sword Review just published my reprint “Second Daughter.” This must be my week for reprint stuff.

Sunday’s my fun day, my I don’t have to run day.

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I have a hard time describing what it is about Sundays, but they have a certain feel that’s distinctly Sunday-ish. Sort of a blend of the end of sleepy leisure from the weekend and apprehension about the forthcoming Monday and all the stressors it brings. It’s a desperate yet also relaxed feeling–it’s still the weekend, but you can almost taste week’s beginning. There’s denial and Monday anxiety, and also a nearly manic need to not worry. That’s what yesterday felt like, except once I realized I was feeling all Sunday-ish, I told myself I didn’t have to be anywhere today, so there was no reason to fret about the impending Monday. It was like a burden lifting. Suddenly Sunday was all about lazy and mellow, without any of the negative.

There are perks to being unemployed.

Of course, as it turns out, I do have to be somewhere today. I just checked my calendar and I’m overdue to visit the hospital vampires for my regular blood test. Oops.


Writing Stuff

I’m feeling quite good about the folktale up at Critters. Did several editing passes, and I like where it’s at. Seriously tempted to send it out before its week in the queue completes.

Matthew first-readered the (first) Korean folktale and came up with an excellent suggestion to streamline the story. Going to roll up my sleeves and see about implementing his suggestion today. It means this tale probably won’t go into the Critters queue until next week.

Constantine, Gin, Sedentary Skunk

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It’s all stormy and dark outside. Such a lovely day to spend lounging around with husband and skunk. fosteronfilm‘s folks called the other day. It’s still hotter in their neck of Illinois than it is down here in Georgia. Freaky.

Had a nice, relaxing Saturday. Hobkin spent most of the day curled up beside me in full snuggle mode, recovering from his vet trauma. fosteronfilm has been slaving on the layout for his Film Festival program for Dragon*Con. He finally got it done and sent it off, and to celebrate, we watched Constantine on DVD and had gin and tonics. Shiny but vacuous fun.


Writing Stuff

2-day form nope from Fictitious Force. Oof.
Notification from ASIM that my submission there made it to the second round. Finger-crossing to commence.

The folktale up at Critters continues to get positive reactions. Rah.

Skunk-human trauma-drama

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Have you ever noticed how similar “trauma” and “drama” sound? Skunk drama. Human trauma. In short, the vet visit was traumatic for all. Hobkin has not forgotten nor forgiven the last time he was in there. Fortunately, the vet hasn’t forgotten the last time either. He didn’t suggest that they take him out of the room, and they even had me put him on the scale to weigh him, although in the past they have had a vet assistant scoop him up to put on the scale. However, even though I was in the room, along with his godmother and another skunk-savvy vet tech, all of us holding him, he put up a huge fuss, shrieking and struggling when they went to get a blood sample. He was very loud. So loud the nice couple in the next room with the bunny commented on it when we encountered them in the waiting room for check out. (The bunny looked rather put out as well.) And Hobkin slashed up my hand pretty good. That was somewhat on purpose on my part. I wanted to make sure that if anyone got bit, it’d be me, so I was prone to sticking my hand and fingers in his face when I saw he was getting ready to lose it.

My poor lil guy!

The vet couldn’t do a proper check-up because Hobkin wouldn’t tolerate him touching him except when he was restrained, and restraining him was too stressful for everyone to do for longer than it took to get the blood sample. So the vet didn’t charge us for the office visit . . . which is nice. We ended up only paying for the blood test and his shots. Although at the same time, I would have liked Hobkin to have received a thorough, hands on examination.

The general consensus on his teeth (the vet got a few chances to look into his mouth, and once Hobkin had settled down I was able to show his godmother and the vet tech the state of his gums) was that he can probably stand to go as is for another year, but to try to do what brushing and crunchy food feeding we can. Next year they’ll knock him out to do his exam and blood draw, and while he’s out, give his teeth a good cleaning.

Back home, Hobkin was groggy from the shot, and Matthew and I were exhausted from the experience. There was much napping all around.


How can someone so angelic-looking turn so completely into a demon beastie?


As we knew already, Hobkin’s pudgy and could stand to lose a half pound or so.


Writing Stuff

6 more crits this morning from Critters. So far, the tale has been very well received. Have started doing rewrite tweaks. Pair of editing passes completed.

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Skunk trauma imminent

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This afternoon is Hobkin’s annual check-up at the vet’s where he gets his shots and yearly physical. Last time, they wouldn’t let me hold him when they went to draw blood, and actually took him out of the room for the procedure. They’re afraid of him biting me and then me suing them. As if. He’ll be less likely to nip anyone if I’m holding him, and I’d much rather he bit me than anyone else. And if he did bite me, of course I’m not going to sue them.

He screamed for me when they took him away. Now Hobkin doesn’t typically vocalize. Skunks are very quiet pets. He’ll occasionally huff if he’s miffed, and I can count on one hand how often he’s “roinked” in distress, so I’d never heard him scream before. He sounded like a parrot being tortured–shrill and loud. They brought him back to me, very unhappy and very scared, his whole front dripping wet from the isoprophyl alcohol they’d spritzed him down with in their unsuccessful efforts to jab him. He stopped screaming as soon as they handed him to me, and he consented to letting them both draw blood and poke him for his shot without a peep, although clinging to me with all his fuzzy might. Hobkin’s never trusted the vet again, not that he was overwhelmed with him before. I hope they remember this experience at his appointment and let me assist. My poor baby. At least his godmother will be there. If they won’t let me hold him, he might be okay if she does.

And . . . it begins. The first boxes of Dragon*Con Film Festival swag have started arriving. Several boxes of flip books for Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride are now sitting in our dining room. Sigh. I may as well say good bye to my dining room until September.


Writing Stuff

Found out via aimeepoynter that Ellen Datlow mentioned me in the 2004 Years Best Fantasy and Horror! Alas, it’s for my work as managing editor of Tangent and not for any of my fiction, but I’ll take what I can get. I shall continue to press my nose against the window of the writers who’ve gotten an honorable mention or *gasp* even been published in those hallowed tomes, but at least my name has appeared in one of them. It’s a start.

And, err, 14 crits this morning. Meep. I solemnly swear I will never again complain about a lack of lovin’ in the Critters queue!

New Words: 500
On the Korean folktale.

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500/day
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Guilt-trippin’ skunk

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I spent far too much time on this game: Planarity. It’s addictive in its simplicity and elegance. I knew it was time to stop when I still saw the lines and vertices when I closed my eyes. Glah.

Hobkin’s nails tore a hole in my sheet, at which point I realized it was time he had a trim. He hates having his nails trimmed, the poor lil guy, but I’ve got a system. I hold him down and clip, and he huffs at me. I’m the only one that can seem to manage it. If fosteronfilm tries to assist, he gets snapped at. I managed to get all of Hobkin’s front toes, but nicked the quick on the last one. He winced and wriggled and glared at me accusingly, at which point I felt so guilty that I immediately stopped and gave him a cookie. Yeah, my pet skunk guilt tripped me.


Writing Stuff

Got an email from the editor of the Sages and Sword anthology. He’d offered to pay me for my story earlier, prior to publication, but the contract had stipulated “on publication.” I thought he’d forgotten our correspondence and I shrugged it off, but he had remembered and wanted to make sure he honored his offer. He suggested I cross out the relevant line in the contract and replace it before sending it back. Unfortunately, I’d already mailed back the contract. (So I asked him to do the crossing out before sending me my copy for my records.) I’m quite impressed by the professionalism and class that displayed on his part–to make sure I got paid when he said I would. Not to mention I can really use the money sooner. Alas, I wish payment on acceptance rather than publication was the industry standard instead of the exception.

My folktale is up at Critters, and so far, no love. Zero. Hunh.

103-day form reject from Absolute Magnitude. I had a feeling this one was coming. Actually, I’m expecting another one today or tomorrow as I heard they were having a slush party last weekend and I’ve got another submission with them. On the matter of slush parties, DNA, as far as I can tell, enlists friends and assorted acquaintances to sort through their submissions, regardless of editorial experience, plying them with food and drink. I guess the philosophy is that anything that really grips your average reader and makes it up to the editor is worth having a look at, or maybe they only invite knowledgable readers to their slush parties. I dunno. But it does strike me as haphazard and inconsistent.
200-day pass from Neo-Opsis after making it to their second round with invite to submit again.

New Words: 300
On the Korean folktale.

Club 100 For Writers
43

First Sale Meme

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First Story Sale Meme, ganked from douglain:
Describe the first story you ever sold to any publication. What was the title of the story? The name of the publication? The plot? The public reception to your work?

My first story sale was “The Adventures of Manny the Mailmobile” to Cicada. It was also my first submission to the Cricket Magazine folks. The beginning of a beautiful relationship! It was also the first place that story had gone to, so in one fell swoop, I’d made my first fiction sale, my first professional sale, and my first one-hit sale. I think my neighbors might still be talking about the day that strange whooping noises issued from my roof. I was walking on clouds for weeks after I made that sale. Good thing too. It had to hold me over for a year before I made my next one.

It was published in the Jan/Feb 2002 issue, a light science fiction/mystery caper with the hero being a lovelorn mailmobile robot. Well, actually, to call it a mystery is probably doing a disservice to Hitchcock and Ellery Queen; the who-done-it part is pretty clearcut and there aren’t any red herrings. But my intention was to focus more on the lovelorn part than the mystery.

The story and mailmobile protag, Manny, were inspired from my days working as a teeny cog as a cubicle monkey for a really big corporation (before I moved to Atlanta). My ex-company had these automated mailmobiles, about the size of ponies, that were programmed to run set delivery routes. Secretaries and other clerical assistants would know when they were near by their, again programmed, beeps. They also had sensors so they (theoretically) knew not to run down pedestrians. I’ve never been hit by one, but I swear I’ve had them lunge at me a couple time while I was innocently walking the corridors, to and from meetings. During the early days of their introduction, there were some *ahem* learning curve issues. Like the time a mailmobile trapped someone behind a door. Its sensors told it not to move, but the person couldn’t get around it because they were blocked in on all sides, so the mailmobile just sat there, flashing and beeping. They had to call a tech person to come and rescue both of them. Then there was the time when a mailmobile accidentally entered a small conference room and then couldn’t figure out how to get out again–since it was too large to turn around. From first hand accounts, the process of moving it out was much like backing up a cow. Finally, there was also the brief hubbub when anonymous third shifters started putting stuffed animal heads on the mailmobiles and taping names like “Bessie” and “Matilda” to them. Personally, I think the mailmobiles should have been allowed to maintain their personas, but apparently upper management was without anything remotely like a sense of humor. Guess anthropomorphizing the mailmobiles was too whimsical for them to stomach. They removed the names and heads, and sent out a company-wide memo prohibiting people from “defacing” the mailmobiles. Spoil sports.

Kill joy management notwithstanding, I was so charmed by the antics of the slow-moving, quirky-yet-loyal mailmobiles, I had to write a tale featuring one. I’m still quite proud of that story. It’s been re-published in Greek (the Feb. 16, 2005 issue of 9), which also marks my first foreign language reprint sale. “Manny” was the first professional validation that I might actually have some ability at this whole writing thing, and it was the fulfillment of a childhood ambition: publication. And the fact that my first sale was to such an excellent and discriminating publication as Cicada still gives me a nice egoboo when I’m feeling discouraged.


Writing Stuff

Received the long-awaited contract for “The Wizard of Eternal Watch and the Keeper of Forever” (I think my longest title, evar) from Pitch-Black books for their Sages & Swords: Razor-edged Arcanum anthology. It prompted a bit off Googling, and I found the cover art that Storn Cook is doing for it. Sweet. I believe the anthology is scheduled for an April 2006 release.

Got the electronic proofs of “Second Daughter” from The Sword Review to approve. The editor said he’s aiming for it to go up next Monday.

Also published a review of the June 2005 issue of Realms of Fantasy to Tangent. Michael Bailey had this to say about “The Storyteller’s Wife”:

“Author Eugie Foster has consistently used words to craft vibrant mental images in past stories, and this tale is no exception. The story is replete with intense visuals . . . The author expertly builds tension early in the story . . . At its core, “The Storyteller’s Wife” is a love story, but the early elements that hint at suicide, and the sinister nature of the denizens of Faerie add a dark element that enriches the story.”

Overall a positive review, although he wasn’t as fond of the ending as the beginning.

New Words: 200
On a re-telling of a classic Korean folktale. This one has the potential to be a little darker than my usual. Not sure if I want to let it go that route, or tone it down. Haven’t decided on a target audience yet. Although, to tell the truth, I’m a bit hit-and-miss when it comes to targeting readers.

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Reprint Bookkeeping

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Writing Stuff

Received my check from The Sword Review for “Second Daughter.” Yay!

Also, I queried Nowa Fantastyka about the contract, payment, and contrib. copies of the issue “All in My Mind” was published in, and got an immediate response from the editor. There was a bookkeeping snafu, but all are en route, or soon will be. Whew.

Did a pair of editing passes on the Korean folktale after a bout of research on Eastern folktales and mythology. But I think my muse may be tuckered out. I wanted to start on another folktale, but nothing struck my fancy. Maybe this would be a good time to get back to work on the novel.

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41

I like gin

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As celebration of recent productivity, fosteronfilm and I had gin and tonics last night. Then I fell asleep. I had one drink, and that was it. I’m an embarrassingly cheap drunk. It was yummy, though.


Writing Stuff

89-day “well-written and original . . .premise was intriguing . . . however” with invite to submit again from John O’Neill of Black Gate. Sigh. But another market just opened up which I think might be a better fit for this one.

Did a couple passes on the Korean folktale and it’s ready for Matthew to first reader. Been perusing Korean folklore, but got side-tracked by some Japanese tales. Then there was gin. Now I’m debating what I want to work on next, another folktale or picking up one of the many WIPs that are lying strewn like triage flotsam on my hard drive.

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