Dreams and Words

Been having recurring dreams whereupon I’m either struggling to remember a numerical combination–usually to a school locker or a padlock–or panicked because I haven’t studied properly for an impending test. Hmm. What would Jung say? That I’m experiencing a fear of loosing or forgetting something, as well as feelings of unpreparedness and/or inadequacy, perhaps? Piffle. Me, I say my meds balance is wonky again. Stupid brain.

Hobkin has been having dreams too. Along with his paws twitching, his tail flicks around and occasionally his nose wiggles. It’s quite adorable. I do wonder what imagery fills the dreamscape of that little fuzzy head of his.

And, on that note, go look at the sock puppets a few enterprising creative writing students made of Neil Gaiman’s Endless family. Oh. My. God. Sock puppets.

Writing stuff:

Read and wrote a review of Christopher Rowe’s story “The Voluntary State” in Sci-Fiction for Tangent. This was a tricky appraisal to write, as this story is so intricate, full of subtext and symbolism. Wasn’t sure if I was being too reflective or not enough. But the story is excellent, even if it did leave me blinking and dazed by the end of it.

Matthew first-readered my Chinese creation myth re-telling. Sigh. My hubby is a wonderful, intelligent, articulate, well-read person. But he just doesn’t grok fairy/folk tales. They leave him cold. But I still value his thoughts on the technical aspects. Will definitely be adjusting the story as per some of his suggestions to bring it to first draft. But now I’m really wrestling with myself as to whether or not I need to be sending my children’s lit stories up to Critters. I seem to have a decent grasp on where I’m at with them, and I’m selling ones that I’ve skipped the Critters step with as successfully as those that I send through the queue. Ponder ponder.

Hobkin doesn’t like my body pillow

Had trouble sleeping last night. Couldn’t get comfortable, so I hauled up the body pillow and after a bit fell asleep on it. Woke up to Matthew chuckling and the sound of Hobkin galloping through the house. It would seem that while I slept, Hobkin tried to climb up beside me a couple times and was thwarted by the big, black pillow in his spot. Frustrated, jealous, and dismayed, he then went for a rampage to show his displeasure. When I realized what had happened I put aside the body pillow and tried to pick him up, but he would have none of it. Instead he squirmed down and charged and stomped at the pillow I had discarded.

Apparently, the body pillow is now his enemy.

After he tuckered himself out by tilting at the pillow for a while, he climbed up beside me and snuggled down for a long nap, secure in the knowledge that he had defended us all from a scary pillow incursion.

I know I’m reassured.

Writing stuff:

Queried a couple markets:
Neo-opsis has had a story of mine since 1/29 and I’ve been seeing responses trickling in at the Rumor Mill from them. They said “it’s in the Maybe list, ask again in a few weeks.”

And sent another nudge to The Strand, which has had something of mine since March of last year. They said that they’re “still considering it but are swamped.”

Ah well. Both better than resounding “no”s.

Lovely weekend!

Went to britzkrieg and rigel_kent‘s wedding last night. It was beautiful. Held in their huge screened-in porch, surrounded by the trees in their sylvan backyard, it was very sacred grove. Matthew and I were honored to do a reading at the ceremony: Nikki Giovanni’s “You Came, Too.” I sat on my fear of public speaking, although to tell the truth, it didn’t particularly trouble me (once I got past the first line). Since Matthew and I were doing a duet, most of the phobia tremors didn’t manifest. Matthew’s my rock. I can do just about anything as long as he’s beside me.

Then there was food and wine. B&J had arranged for quite an elaborate spread. And since britzkrieg is also a vegetarian, there was a slew of veggie-friendly offerings. And the dancing. Matthew and I don’t get many opportunities to dance anymore. We totally enjoyed ourselves. And now my feet hurt. That’s always a sign of fun had.

I think Hobkin’s sulking, though. He’s been pouting under his hutch. More worrisome, he didn’t eat his breakfast. Going to see about coaxing him to eat, and if he doesn’t, then it’s meds and a Pepto Bismol sandwich for him.

Heard through the Skunk Chat grapevine that one of Hobkin’s Godmother’s skunks died last week. Very sad. She’s not up for calls or visitors, which I completely understand. Going to see about sending a sympathy card on Monday. I wish our beloved fuzzy companions would live as long as us.

Writing Stuff:

Got a rejection from Leading Edge. The note starts out (after the “thanks for letting us see your story . . . blah blah blah”) “Your story was accepted by the staff readers”–which got my adrenalin all pumping, thinking I had an acceptance letter in my hands. But then it went on to say “and passed on to the editors for further consideration. Although we have decided not to use it . . .” Sigh. They did ask for more and called it “quality work.” Grumble. Out it goes again.

Also received a postcard from Cricket saying they’d received my current submission–the same submission the editor had asked for resource material for via email. Hee.

Not a fire drill

The fire alarm went off this morning at my place of business. It wasn’t a drill. Sirens blared and two fire engines came swooping in (they were white and yellow too, not red–what’s up with that?). I hadn’t had my coffee yet so I’m not quite sure how I ended up in the parking lot with the other cluster of mostly-annoyed, somewhat puzzled employees. I do remember debating whether I should take my purse or my coffee with me when the claxon sounded. I ended up with my purse, but I wish I’d had enough neurons firing to have thought to take both. By the time it was determined that the alarm was set off by a malfunctioning fire sensor and the fire engines ambled away, my coffee was cold.

Sigh.

Slept something like ten hours last night and awoke in a daze, unsure if I was still asleep or actually awake as I’d spent much of my AM R.E.M. sleep dreaming about waking up. I hate that.

Trimmed Hobkin’s nails last night. I waited until he was curled up in my lap, looking for all the world like a lumpy, four-legged pillow before gently grasped one of his limp paws. Without even cracking an eye open, he snatched it away and immediately rolled over so all four paws were curled beneath him. How did he know?? I’ve been fiddling with his paws when he’s asleep to get him used to them being handled, and he’s been letting me. But he knew, even in his comatose state, he knew! There’s a lot going on in that wee brain of his. I still managed to get sixteen out of twenty toes trimmed. My brain is bigger than his. Hah!

Very ready for the weekend. Looking forward to britzkrieg and rigel_kent‘s wedding tomorrow and rehearsal dinner tonight. Melting Pot fondue. Yum.

Writing stuff:

Did a lot of research on the Chinese goddess Nu Wa and her brother Fu Xi. I thought I needed an angle to adapt the myth for a younger audience and kept coming up with nothing but circles. Then I had some sugar and realized that children like circles. So I set to work. 1800 words later, I’ve completed the zero draft. Going to make Matthew first reader it (although he’s not a big fan of fairy/folk tales or mythology), and then debate whether I want to bother sending it through Critters. When I’ve polished it to a nice, steady shine, it’ll go into the queue of “stories to submit to Cricket.”

Also got a rejection from Talebones. The editor wrote “Good, but not for us” at the bottom of the form letter, and also apologized for the extra long response time. Another “good but no” for this particular story, which is still one of my favorites. Dammit. I will find a home for this baby . . .

Pulmonary news

Got a call from my Pulmonary doctor. My CAT scan looked clear except for a bit of gland swelling that could be attributable to anything. And my PFT was fine too. The doctor has ordered a diaphragm capacity test, but he’s speculating, since we’re running out of physical causes, that my breathing issues might be due to stress. Hmmm. I guess that’s a good thing. Kind of. Except I don’t feel all that stressed and I’m not sure what to do about it if it is stress.

Writing stuff:

My Tangent reviews of the Sci-Fiction stories “Flight Risk” and “Elvis in the Attic” are up.

Did another couple hundred words on the SF piece. Limping along with this one. Where’s the momentum, I sez? Think I might switch back to doing a folk/fairy tale. Need the speedy gratification. Researching Chinese creation myths and trying to figure out a good way to tell it to a young audience.

Writingwritingwriting

Received an email from the editor of Cricket/Cicada which is a first. We’ve only corresponded before via snail mail. She requested I send her my source material for the story I submitted to Cricket on Friday. Spent an hour or so sorting my notes, citing my references in a reasonable semblance of APA/MLA style, and stuck everything in the mail.

But couple of things to make me go “woo!” from this. 1. It’s proof that she’s plucking my stories out of their slush pile. I mailed it on Friday and she’d already read it by Tuesday! 2. She’s interested enough in the story to want my references. 3. It’s an oblique indication of our maturing business relationship that she trusts me with her email address!

It’s amazing how happy a simple business email can make me.

Also devoured a jumbo-sized pixie stick after dinner which stoked my muse. I had a minor epiphany (along with a sugar rush) and realized where I was taking the SF story I started. Happily hammered out a couple hundred words, and then it was like a valve had shut off in my mind. I was cut off; no more words for me. But I figured out where the story’s going. That’s worth an unruly muse or two, isn’t it?

The story’s a new experiment in style for me. I’m writing it in first person present tense. I’m very comfortable with first person. Actually, I find it easier to write first than third. But this whole present tense thing is new. When I realized what I’d done, I tried to go back and put what I had down into past, but I couldn’t. This story has to be told in present. We’ll see what happens.

Also had a submission pass the initial round of reading at NFG. The story goes to the editorial hoard for torture and interrogation next. I usually make it past the first round, but I’ve yet to have a story survive the group grilling. Faint-hearted manuscripts. Must write them sturdier, it seems.

And finally, wrote and sent off a review for Tangent of “Elvis in the Attic” by Catherine M. Morrison in Sci-Fiction.

Anniversary recap

Watched Adaptation yesterday, which was very odd. Made by the same folks who did Being John Malkovich, it’s narcissistic and self-deprecating at the same time. It started slow and disjointed and then turns into a darkly comedic thriller. Weird. But I liked it.

Also made vegan seitan stew. Making seitan was a novel experience. The raw dough, when rising, looked like brains with all the ridges and bumps in a half-sphere. And since the seitan/Satan pronunciation slurring is inevitable, Matthew and I joked that we were having “Satan Brain Stew.” Well, we thought it was funny.

The recipe we used for seitan made a lot more than we needed for the stew, so Matthew’s going to put some in a stir-fry this week, and we froze the rest of it. It’s full of protein goodness, and I considered seeing if Hobkin would like some, but it’s also pretty high in sodium. Thinking about making a little bit of seitan without the flavoring next time (which would then make it gluten) and offering that to the little fuzzhead.

Writing stuff:

1600 words on a science fiction piece. Rah!

Also received the copies of Ascendancy of Blood from Scrybe Press to sign.

Anniversary weekend day 2

Yesterday was both Prokofiev’s and Shakespeare’s birthday. Prokofiev is one of my favorite composers, and Shakespeare is one of my favorite writers. NPR played Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet in observation. Very fitting.

Doctors visits went. As it turns out, I needn’t have fasted. They’re running the labs they routinely do for physicals next week when I have my regular tests done so they only need to prick me once this week. And the lab tech for my Pulmonary Functions Test was nice. He was like a track coach, extolling me to inhale, pant, exhale, and breath normally into a sci-fi apparatus on cue. Heh.

I made ginger muffins for brunch. We were out of vanilla so I substituted orange extract. Turned out very nicely. For dinner, Matthew and I went to a nearby Indian buffet. It was excellent. Paneer, saag, curry, and saffron rice. Yummy. But in conversation that popped up, we realized we weren’t sure which anniversary we were celebrating. Matthew thought it was the thirteenth, while I believed it was the twelfth. So, this morning, I went rummaging around to find our marriage announcements. And, of course, I was right. Tomorrow will be our twelfth anniversary.

I also found a sketch my ex-boyfriend, Donn, did of me when we were dating: “Goddess Eugie.” It’s more of a doodle, really, as it’s on lined three-hole notebook paper, but I’ve always liked it. Well, I mean how can I not like it? It depicts me as being a sky goddess. I brought it downstairs to scan so I’ll always have a digital copy of it, as I don’t think the original, being on notebook paper, is going to last forever.

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