Skunk grooming and Writing stats

Hobkin’s nail clipping and associated grooming went about as well as I expected last night. Managed to clip twelve nails on my own, and then had to get Matthew to help. I think he got three or four more before we had to let a much irritated Hobkin go. So I think we’ve got four or five untrimmed toes left. And they’re not all on the same foot either. And yes, there are paw-smears of lotion all over the house.

I also cleaned Hobkin’s ears and he put up with that with amazing tolerance. It’s strange; it was always really easy to trim the ferrets’ nails. I’d just dab a drop of ferretone/linatone on their tummies and they’d let me do anything with their feet while they concentrated on licking the stuff off. But the same trick with Hobkin doesn’t work. He contorts and wiggles to get at the linatone, and growls and nips if you try to mess with his paws. But the ferrets had to be scruffed to clean their ears. Hobkin just lies there and lets me swab at them without so much as a squirm. Go fig.

Going to try to get the remaining nails tonight. And tomorrow is bath night. I always get whapped in the face with a soaking wet, sudsy tail whenever we give him a bath. I’m sure Hobkin does it on purpose.

Writing stats:

Polished the fairy tale, actually it’s really a folktale, and am currently debating whether or not I should toss it up on Critters. It’s so short (1000 words), and a lot of times, Critters comments aren’t very useful with submissions intended for a younger audience. Maybe I’ll bundle it with another short fairy tale I’ve got lying around that I wasn’t satisfied with.

1200 words on the SF piece and the zero draft is done! Cheers and jumping up and down. Except I’m not happy with how the ending turned out. Going to have Matthew first reader it and see if he can help me brainstorm what went wrong, then up to Critters it goes.

That’s three completed works in less than two weeks. I do seem to write in fits and starts. I’d like it better if I could manage and maintain an even pace, but as long as I keep putting words on the page, eventually, I guess it’s all good.

Received another BFoD from RoF, although Carina took the time to write at the bottom that she thought this one was well written. I’ll take what editorial encouragement I can get. Out it goes again.

Surreal Tuesday

Huh. None of my replies to comments on LJ are showing up. I’m afraid to re-post them ’cause I fully expect them to duplicate like bunnies. Damn LJ. There’s still kinks in the system! Pfft.

Had a slew of really vivid dreams last night, or rather early this morning. They were all disturbing, of the variety that’re so real you’re not sure when you wake up if you’re still dreaming. And they were exhausting to have. When my alarm went off, I could barely drag myself out of bed. Stumbled through my morning wake-up and then staggered out to the bedroom in the dark to feel a soft nose nudge my ankle. This totally jolted me as we always lock Hobkin away in his area when we’re both asleep, so for a half a second I thought some wild animal had gotten into our house. Of course, I realized a moment later it had to be Hobkin. Turned on the light to see the little fuzzwit blinking up at me. “Hi, Mom. Where’s my breakfast?”

Matthew, sleepy and bleary, insisted he locked him away. I checked. The door to Hobkin’s area was wide open, of course. After a quick perusal of the house, it would appear that Hobkin, unsupervised, had not gotten into any mischief. Amazing. He was totally laid back at what the big deal was as I checked to make sure no cabinet doors had been opened or closets ransacked. Nope. Looks like the little fuzzhead behaved himself. He hadn’t even unfurled the toilet paper in the guest bathroom which was dangling, oh so seductively, within skunk-reach, or ravaged the tights I had laying around the bedroom floor (I’m a slob, so sue me). I suspect he must have napped until my alarm went off, actually.

So, bemused, I fed him breakfast, and finished getting ready. Weird beginning for the day. Had a lot of coffee to make up for it.

Continue reading

POA, Fantasm, Andre Norton

Got the check from Eggplant Productions for “Visiting Day” in the mail today! Yay! Payment on Acceptance rocks! No word on when it’s scheduled to go up, though.

Also, yakdog asked if I want to be an Ink Track guest at Fantasm. Beating back the baying public-speaking phobia hounds, I said “yes.”

Been reading Andre Norton of late. I’m finding her to be a little overly “high fantasy” in style for my tastes, although still enjoyable. But she’s not doing much for my muse, style or idea-wise. Think I’ll re-read some Tanith Lee.

Chance, doctors, fat skunk

Kristin loaned us her DVD of Amber Benson’s Chance. Watched it last night. Hmm. Well, I liked seeing James Marsters’ abs o’glory . . .

Also had a follow-up with a couple of my doctors. My rheumatologist wants me to have an echo cardiogram. He’s trying to figure out why I’ve been having problems breathing. My chest x-ray was clean, but then we both expected it would be. It’s really weird. It’s not so much that I get short of breath but I feel like I just can’t fill my lungs as full as I’d like to. It’s not asthma (which I had when I was a young’un) and it’s not an allergic reaction. Humph. Guess I gotta chalk another one up to my stupid physiology.

And Hobkin looks fat. We have him on a stringent diet, but it doesn’t seem to be doing squat. Actually, he looks absolutely adorable, waddling around the house. He’s round and soft and fluffy. I can’t help it. Fat animals look cute. But he could definitely stand to lose a pound or so. Heh. All the people at the skunk show are going to think we glut our little critter with food, but we’re really careful with his calorie intake. The weight’s just not coming off! Sigh.

Writing stats: polished up the new fantasy story. Lopped off about 200 words after getting Matthew’s critique. Sent it to my fellow critter for his perusal. Matthew liked it quite a bit. So do I, for that matter.

Week in Review

This week:

Saw Kill Bill. It was bloody. Very, very bloody. I was reminded of that scene in the Addams Family movie where Wednesday and Pugsly are doing a fight scene for their school recital and fake blood spurts out and covers the front rows of stunned audience members. But I still liked it. It was escapist; it was shallow; it was superficial. Fun! And I’m a big fan of Lucy Liu. And of Uma Thurman, for that matter.

Writing stats:

Alchemy sent me a form reject. All I ever get from them is that damned form. Pffft.

Slowly dying as I continue to wait for word from On Spec and the rewrite verdicts from Cricket. It’s sort of a writerly Catch 22. While I don’t know for sure that the answer’s a “no,” I have hope. But it’s killing me not knowing. Actually, there’s a Schroedinger’s Cat aspect to that. While the SASE in the mailbox is unopened, the letter inside is both a rejection and an acceptance. Hah.

1000 words on a brand new SF piece. Abandoning both the magic realism story and the novel . . . for now. I just realized that I haven’t written any SF this year, only Fantasy, Horror, and Slipstream. But my momentum petered out after the first 1K. Extremely annoying.

In a fit of ire, I also started a fairy tale, thinking I might be able to jiggle some cooperation out of my muse that way. Nope. 500 words and then a big ole brick wall.

So then I shined up an old piece that needed tightening. This is the one I’ll send to the showcase I mentioned in my last entry if I get confirmation that it’ll be a “for pay” gig. It’s a light, silly romp of a SF story that I’ve had a hard time placing but that I’m fond of.

AND *drum roll please* I finished in one day a 3700-word fantasy piece. Nearly in one sitting! One of my fellow Critters is starting a literary online project and he wanted my opinion, so I went and browsed his site. It triggered my muse (Callooh Callay!). Very, very happy to have hit flow. I’ve been pumping out words, but it’s been like squeezing Mountain Dew out of granite.

Going to have Matthew first reader it, then debate whether I’ll toss it up on Critters or send it straight to my fellow Critter for consideration in his project. (Yes, it’s a paying gig.) What I think I’ll do is send it to him, and if he can’t use it, then send it through Critters before sending it to the usual suspects.

Fiction Showcase invite

Got an email from one of my regular Critters. He’s trying to put together an online, invite-only showcase of fiction and would like me to submit something for it. This is actually the second showcase he’s put together. He asked me for something for the first one, but I declined because he wasn’t offering any payment. This time, he says he’s hoping to be able to pay. I told him I’d be interested for pay.

Mercenary? Afraid so. But Ann Crispin drummed into me that writers should get paid; money flows to the author. I totally agree with her. I put a lot of my soul and heart into my writing. It feels very wrong to just give it away.

I am flattered to be asked, either which way. It’s nice to have people who think highly of my writing ability, so highly that they come to me asking for it rather than the usual state of affairs where I go begging editors to please consider my humble, unworthy offering. Plus this person reviews for Strange Horizons, so I’m doubly flattered.

It’ll be interesting to see if this project takes off.

Macbeth, Dark Bunny, Hobkin thinks I’m scary

Hobkin woke me up at 6:30 this morning, rather insistent that he was starving, wasting away, a mere skeleton of himself. He needed food. So, cold and sleepy, I fixed his breakfast. Was he grateful? Content? No, of course not. He snarfed down his food and ran amok through the house, stomping at shadows, and trying his damnedest to get himself stuck in a corner behind one of the chairs in our sitting room where he’s gotten himself trapped before and had to be rescued. I’d wrapped a blanket around myself for warmth and came to warn him away from such foolhardy action, and me and the blanket must have looked like some scary, skunk-devouring apparition. His tail fluffed straight up, and he charged me, stomping with all his might. I burst into laughter, and affronted, he bounded away.

All that excitement tuckered him out. He’s now napping under the hutch, and I’m wide away. Typical.

Went to see Macbeth at the Shakespeare Tavern last night. It wasn’t as strong a performance as we’ve come to expect from them. The actors actually flubbed their lines a couple times, and the lines themselves seemed under-presented. The people at the table beside us hadn’t ever read Macbeth or this was the first time they’d seen it done (or both). They kept reading the synopsis page and trying to figure out what was going on. In the final scene where MacDuff reveals that he was “from his mother’s womb untimely ripped,” that line which I always expect as a big moment, full of heightened fear and drama, was sort of lost. Oh well. Can’t always have transcendentally wonderful performances there.

Next month they’re doing “The First Original Miniseries” – Richard II, Henry IV pt 1, Henry IV pt 2, and Henry V. It’s quite an ambitious undertaking. Fortunately, the run goes into December, so we’ll get to see two of them with our club membership. We’re thinking of opting to see the Henry IVs.

Also went shopping yesterday. Picked up a pair of black bunny ears. In an email conversation with dude_the, he provided me the inspiration for what I’m going to dress up as for Halloween:

Me: The universe isn’t fair, and there’s no such thing as Karma, but it’s a pretty idea. I like the idea that really horrible people who do cruel, terrible things to animals might one day (hopefully soon) get their comeuppance.

dude_the: And with such words a vigilante was born. Nimbly hopping across the Atlantian rooftops in a black cat-suit and black mask, she was the last line of defense for all things fluffy, cute, or generally unable to defend themselves from the maliciousness of man. And, when that defense failed, she was cold, cruel vengeance. She was…the DARK BUNNY!

Heeheehee. I’m going to be DARK BUNNY! Got me a black cat-suit and black vinyl corset, a little black vinyl half cape, and now my coup des gras, bunny ears! Fun.

We actually swung by the Build-a-Bear workshop when we were out. And I cooed and giggled at the adorable costumes. Started thinking about getting one of them to subject Hobkin to for Halloween. Still dwelling on that. The one I was seriously conteplating is a cute pumpkin outfit. I think it might be more doable than some of the others because it’s just a puffy elastic pullover sort of get-up. Not much in the way of sleeves to contend with. I’m evil for even contemplating it, aren’t I?

Sleep cycles, hot tubbing, and the state of the small press

My sleep cycle is royally messed up. On Thursday I tipped over early in the evening and slept for twelve hours straight, and yesterday I fell asleep at 7:30 in the evening and woke up three hours later, stayed up with Matthew until two AM and then slept until seven this morning. What’s up with that? But I woke up feeling rested and perky this morning, even if it was at seven, so I guess, hey, whatever works.

I do love the weather. It’s perfect for hot tubbing! Matthew and I have been lounging in swirly jacuzzi water a lot recently. Very soothing. And Hobkin is a total fluff ball. The white in his coat has taken on these shiny highlights so that he almost gleams in certain lighting.

Found out that two markets, Grimoire and Leng!, folded before putting out their first issues. Annoying because I had submissions at both places, but considering their total lack of response, I’m not surprised. And now at least I can put the stories back in circulation.

Overall, this is not a good time for small presses. With Demonic folding, and Catalyst in financial straits, there’s been a lot of fallout on various message boards. Makes me leery about submitting to small press anthologies. I dunno.

Writing not so much and a death in the extended family

Found out that one of Hobkin’s godmother’s skunks died today. It’s heartbreaking. She’s extremely dedicated to her skunks (obviously, as we trust Hobkin to stay with her when we’re away, and she is, after all, his godmother), spent every day and night at her ailing skunk’s side, trying to nurse him back to health, barely eating or sleeping herself. She’s devastated. We’ll send a card or flowers or something, but I wish there was something more we could do. Hobkin’s godmother is a really wonderful person. It’s always terrible to lose someone you love.

Writing stats:
Twenty-seven critiques from Critters on my dark fantasy offering. They were pretty positive, all in all. I’m actually a little surprised at how positive the overall consensus turned out to be. Well, good. Rewrite complete, and out into the world it goes.

From the flurry of queries last week:
2 sales
1 reject
1 form “we no longer take email submissions, if this was a query, please ignore this automatic note”
1 dead silence

Not bad numbers, considering.

Found out that one of the people in my Critter Litter writing group won 2nd place in the WotF. I’m very, very excited for her. Green with jealousy too.

No new word countage happening of late. Been too busy this past weekend with my mother’s visit to get any writing done, and have been lazing about all this week. Hope to start up on the productivity side of things again soon. I think this is the first time this year that I haven’t had something in the Critters queue.

I’ve got new family!

The weekend turned out way better than I could have dreamed. Not only am I totally bounce-bounce-bounce about making those two sales to Here & Now, but I really like my new stepfather. He’s kindly and nice and very sharp. He also called Hobkin “The Little Gentleman” which, of course, totally charmed me.

He’s got sensibilities which are much closer to what Matthew and I have than I would’ve expected someone who got hitched to my mother would have. Like whenever she goes out to eat, she always wants to eat at Chinese restaurants, which is why the first night we took them to a Thai place. We figured it was a little different, but still close enough not to cause undue stress. I don’t really get her preference, because when I travel, I want to eat different cuisines and experience new things. But I thought, “well, it must be a generational/cultural thing or maybe she just feels more comfortable with familiar stuff.” I assumed he felt the same way. But, as the weekend wore on and my stepfather started talking more, it came out that he thinks the way Matthew and I do. He was all “Why do you want to eat Chinese food? We can have Chinese food in China” to my mother, and so after that we decided to eat different things.

We took them to the California Pizza kitchen for lunch where they shared a Mexican pizza (I can’t remember what it was called but it had salsa, guacamole, and caramelized onions on it). She seemed a bit dubious, but he really liked it! He commented several times on how good it was. And then for dinner, we took them to the Macaroni Grill, where my mother insisted they have lasagna (and then complained about it). But he again seemed quite pleased with it.

We also took them to North Pointe Mall because my mother wanted to pick up some American cosmetics. They seemed very happy to wander around the shops and chatter about whether something was made in China and how much it would cost there versus how much it costs here. Apparently things from America are much more expensive there. And you can’t trust the shopkeepers not to literally slice a bit off the top. My mother commented as she bought a little jar of eye cream that once when she’d bought the same jar in a store in Beijing (for twice the cost), when she opened it, she discovered it was half empty. Apparently one of the shop girls had scooped out some. They also commented that there’re a lot of items that are made in China, but that you can’t get them there because they’re exclusively for export.

We came back to our house for tea and to let them take the obligatory pictures. Our tea selection got their nod of approval. And my stepfather seemed quite amused by our bear tuffet. He spent a lot of time perched on it instead of sitting on the couch, which of course charmed me again, as anyone who prefers sitting on a stuffed bear over a couch obviously has their priorities screwed on properly.

Hobkin was a big topic of interest and amusement. My mother still kept trying to poke him in the face. And when I finally swiveled him around in my arms so she could pet his back, she sort of thwapped and jostled him. Not hard enough to hurt him or anything, but not the soothing stroking that animals like. Hobkin seemed rather perplexed and put out by this odd treatment, but again, he didn’t growl or huff at her. I don’t get it. My mother does the exact wrong things to make friends with animals, and they totally love her. Although I don’t think Hobkin is very enamored with her. I got him settled in my lap, and my mother did her weird thump-pat on his back, which prompted him to hop off my lap and go scampering away to hide under the hutch.

I also found out my mother did not, as it were, take my stepfather’s last name. She explained that it’s not done that often in China. I’m not sure if that’s accurate, but either way, I at least know how to address their Christmas cards. Also that he’s got two sons (I’ve got two stepbrothers!) one who lives in San Diego and one who lives in Beijing. They’re both older than me, by I think around five to eight years, and they’re both MDs. I’ve got doctors in the family!

It’s really weird. I thought my mother and I were permanently estranged. I thought I’d never see her again and I was okay with that. But she was actually fine to be around this weekend. I think my stepfather is a really good influence on her.

And my stepfather managed to instill a curiosity about China and my roots in me. For the first time ever, the idea of touring China doesn’t fill me with a cold, sticky dread. It seems like it might be fun and interesting.

So I guess I got some closure on my rocky childhood with my mother. I didn’t realize I needed closure, but it feels good to have it.

We put my mother and my stepfather onto the Marta to Hartsfield this morning for their early morning flight. I gave both of them a hug goodbye. It was really awkward hugging my mother. It’s like neither of us knew where to put our elbows and arms and stuff. But then I hugged my stepfather and he kept grinning and grinning afterwards. I don’t think he expected it. I told him I was glad to have him in the family, and I really, really meant it.

I actually enjoyed their visit. Huh. Shouldn’t that be a sign of Armageddon or something?