Brry Sunday Spring Morning

Where did the spring weather go? Brr. Okay, yah, I’m getting spoiled and soft with the Georgia climate, but I like it that way.

Went to the Shakespeare Tavern last night to see Julius Caesar. As always, an excellent performance. But Julius Caesar just isn’t my favorite play. There were a lot of first-time-to-the-Tavern actors, and they were all excellent, but I think there was too much grump interpreted in this version. Some of the conflict scenes dragged. Like the scene where Brutus and Cassius have a falling out in Act Three felt overlong, which is unusual for the Tavern where they understand the virtue of good pacing. But I quite liked the mob=Greek Chorus effect they were going for in Act Two. And the war drums were excellent. Overall, an enjoyable production. Except we were seated in the very front row, right up against the stage, and my neck has a crick in it from craning up.

Next month is two non-Shakespeare plays at the Tavern: Murder in the Cathedral by T.S. Eliot and Salome by Oscar Wilde. Salome is one of my favorite Oscar Wilde works so I’m quite excited about it.

In other news, I got jittery and queried the editor of In the Outposts of Beyond about the status of the project and he assured me that things were going fine and that the anthology should be going to print in August. Excellent.

The IRS

We went to H&R Block to have our taxes done yesterday, and it was shocking, stunning, jaw-droppingly good news. The amount we’re getting back is nothing short of a windfall. Apparently, between the interest we’re paying on our house, and the substantial loss that we took on our mutual fund last year (mutual fund tanked so badly they closed it out), we way over-withheld on our taxes.

To celebrate, Matthew and I ordered sushi delivery and discussed what we’re going to do with the money. The overwhelming consensus was that we’re going to put most of it into savings, but we’re also going to spend a little of it on ourselves as “fun” money to let us have those little things that we wanted to buy but denied ourselves because we’ve been trying to be frugal. The rest we’re going to put into the house. There’s a few things around here that’ve always been not-quite-right that need a professional to look at. And we need to hire a lawn guy to mow and fix up our landscape area. We suck at it, and I think our neighbors are beginning to hate us.

I also paid taxes again on my writing. Last year was looking rather chancy on that part until Phobos, but with that single sale, I got nudged into owing on schedule C. I’m officially a self-employed, professional writer in the eyes of the IRS, and definitely not a hobbyist. Hurray!

ARGH.


Received from Black Gate in the mail yesterday. Handwritten and signed by John O’Neill the Editor:

” . . . Almost! This is a terrific tale – fast moving, surprising, and fun, and with great characters. However . . . ”

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck!

Dammit. It’s the near misses that really get to me. He did ask to see more from me, though.

Sigh. Oh well. Out it goes again today.

In other news, I should go to yoga today, but I’m feeling too unmotivated (read grumpy) to get myself going. Think I’ll read for a bit, sulk, and try to write. Not necessarily in that order.

I can’t even begin coming up with an appropriate subject

I just got the most perplexing letter in the mail today. It was a wedding announcement. The blushing bride being . . . my mother.

“Perplexing?” you might ask. “Why perplexing?”

And I reply “Because I didn’t know she was seeing anyone, much less engaged.”

I knew she was moving to China, and apparently this is the reason why. But I’m rather curious who this person, her new husband, is. The announcement says he’s a “Dr.” I’m not sure if that’s medical or academic. I’m betting academic, though.

Okay. It’s not like my mother and I are close. We’re barely on speaking terms. But I really would have thought I’d have gotten more than “surprise, I got re-married.” I mean, I introduced Matthew to her before we got married. There wasn’t even a letter in the announcement. Or a picture. I have no idea what my new step-father looks like.

Hell, I just discovered he existed about five minutes ago. Wonder if I’ll ever get to meet him.

Well, I hope they’re happy together. Despite our inability to find anything remotely close to common ground during my upbringing, I do hope that her new husband is a good man and that they find joy in each other.

Should I buy her a blender? Um.

It’s been an odd day.


You are a freeform writer. Individualistic with a
sense for the different and challenging, Walt
Whitman and his poetry lacking meter and rhyme
is just what the doctor ordered. You’re quick
to write something that the rest of the world
doesn’t accept as poetry, quick to separate
yourself from the average joe. An author with a
true sense of self, you have confidence in your
abilities and aren’t afraid to show it. 🙂 GO
YOU!

What’s YOUR Writing Style?
brought to you by Quizilla

Another first


I keep pinching myself, but I don’t appear to be asleep.

I just got an email from the new editor of a pro-paying e-zine. She read and critiqued one of my stories on Critters. She was writing to ask me if it had been published yet because she really liked it.

Gluh? Editors of pro-paying publications are soliciting me for fiction now? Wha?

As it turns out, the story in question is currently being considered at another market, but I told her if they pass on it, I’ll send it her way.

Still pinching myself. *ouch* And yep, still awake.

Sunday after Ostara

Hobkin’s sleeping like a lump in my lap this morning while I wait for Matthew to wake up. He (Hobkin, not Matthew) was actually rather lump-like for most of yesterday too. I had to make Matthew fetch the mail because I was pinned by a slumbering skunk, and then Hobkin didn’t do more than raise his head and blink sleepily at me when I began whooping and shrieking upon opening the note from Cricket. Sometimes, nothing perturbs him, and others, you can’t even open a door without him stomping at you.

He stomped a lot at the new tuffet. I wish I’d had the digicam out. Missed several choice “awww!” photo moments with Hobkin stretching his little head out to sniff noses with the tuffet.

Matthew emptied, cleaned, and refilled the hot tub yesterday. It should have heated to the proper temperature overnight, and then it’s all soaking goodness. Ahhh.

Today, I will write. I meant to get a big ole chunk of writing in yesterday, but I sort of got de-railed by the sale news. But hell, my muse can get thrown off like that any day.

I’m within sniffing distance of finishing up a fantasy adventure/mystery fusion short story. And then back to the novella. Charge!

CRICKET SALE!

My GOD this has been an excellent day! I just SOLD my kitsune folktale “When Shakko Did Not Lie” to CRICKET!

God, I wanted to break into them so badly! I can’t believe it!

And what they’re paying me for this story will pay for the second half of our new television.

Hot DAMN!

I’m gonna go screaming through the house now.

Ostara – The Festival of the Trees

Apparently I’m in a big LJ updatey mood. Today is Ostara, the Festival of the Trees. Happy Ostara everyone!

Matthew and I left beer bread and bourbon balls out under the topiary tree for the visiting faerie folk. Look what they left us!

It’s a Dianne Shapiro soft sculpture tuffet/ottoman. I saw one like it at a Caribou Coffee and just fell in love with it. I’ve got a passion for whimsical things. Dianne Shapiro has this line of humane trophies including plush bear rugs, animal heads and “other ends,” and of course, tuffets! Absolutely adorable. Stuffed animal furniture. Gotta love it.

Matthew also got me Wolf Wing a new Tanith Lee book. And I got him the complete Series One Wodehouse Playhouse on DVD.

We went out for breakfast and it’s amazing outside. The trees are sprouting these gorgeous colored blooms. Even the ground covering is coming out in lavenders and yellows. I love spring in Georgia.

BLASPHEMY cover!

Ooo. There’s cover art for the Blasphemy anthology up at the website!

Isn’t it sexy?

Paul Fry, one of the editors, sent me a request for my bio for the book, so it looks like things are moving right along with them. But I’m never happy with my bios. Should I make it funny? Or serious? Do people read them anyway? Glargh.

They still haven’t sent me the contract. I do wish editors would send contracts out more promptly. It never quite feels real unless there are signatures involved.