Echoes in a Hollow Space

1. When I heard that WFC would be in San Diego in 2011 I thought, "Oh hell, for sure I can go, even if it's just to drive down for a day." Life had other plans, unfortunately. And, truth told, I might not have gone, despite my optimism. Every year I plan to go to Loscon, which takes place about 10 miles from my house on Thanksgiving weekend, aaaaaaaand...I don't go. I should never underestimate the power of my own sloth.

2. Mom had some scary issues this week, but the doctors think they were due to water retention (always a hazard with dialysis). Since they've up the Lasix, the problems have improved.

3. I have injured my knee. My good knee. I pulled a muscle along the side of the knee, which has happened before, but now the joint is stiff and swollen as well. The bad knee, ironically, is doing much, much better. *sigh*

4. I've been studying Native American gender identity issues for some time now, but my interest has revived over the last couple of weeks as I've worked on the research for The Numberless Stars. I've been poking at the cultural mores of different tribes regarding attitudes towards the third sex, the berdache, as anthropologists have labeled them. In the kind of synchronicity that often occurs when I start seriously poking at some research, this popped up on little_details. Very helpful indeed. I've already ordered the Williams book and one other. Both cheap used copies, of course.

5. TGIF. Putting a hundred extra miles (or more) on the car per week is rather draining, but today all that is required of me is to be at work. Tomorrow I actually get three hours to myself while Mom is at dialysis, and Sunday, the blessed day, I don't have to go anywhere at all. Chores, sure, but I don't have to drive anywhere. I try to keep that sacrosanct about Sundays.

When I stopped by the art show to say goodbye to tryslora yesterday, she had such a worried look on her face. "I hope you had fun," she said.

I did, Deb. Thanks for being concerned about me. And it was so nice to meet you!

Even though Worldcon was huge, only my second con ever, and rather overwhelming at first, I met some people, including two of my favorite authors, actually got up enough nerve to have conversations with them, got a card from an editor, and listened to some good panels.

( A long post about a short visit. )

One of the amusing parts of the Atlanta Nights reading at Loscon were the blurbs various publishing industry people supplied. Go to the website and read them.

I love my WIP, I really, sort of do. But I really, REALLY want it to be done. I'm making good progress on it again after a busy and struggling time, but REALLY...it's a love-hate thing.

So yesterday when it was time to go back to work after lunch and the largely successful writing session was at and end, I amused myself by making up blurbs about my WIP:

"Riveting...a molten plug of metal jackhammered into my brain..."

"A lush and steamy wade through a swamp when it's 110 degrees and the humidity's maybe 80, 90 percent and you got a itchy rash in your shorts..."

"Thompson's workmanlike prose never fails to be like a stack of bricks lathered with wet mortar..."

"Visually stunning. I've never seen such a remarkable cover."

"A lyrical paean to getting over the hump..."

I suspect these aren't as funny to others as they were to me at the time, but they certainly exorcised some demons and I had another cracking good writing session today. I crossed a whole sub-section off my "drive to the end" outline. Only four and a half more to go.

Wallace Stegner's Angle of Repose is staring at me from one of the To Be Donated bags of books and I'm feeling rather relaxed about life again after eight weeks of frenzied packing up. I am still surrounded by objects which must be sorted and put in their proper places, the garage is still crammed full of boxes which must be dealt with, and there is the distant thought of a yard sale which must be organized to dispose of excess household goods, but for the first time in a couple of months, I don't have to do anything.

I cleared out the last of my possessions from the apartment Friday, got my bedroom and sitting room squared away (the comfort zones), got my computer set up (anywhere I hang my computer is home), and decided that the rest can be taken care of gradually. (My DSL move got messed up and I won't have it until the end of the week, so they soothed my rumpled feelings by giving me free dial up in the interim. Alas, how quickly we get spoiled.) Yesterday, I allowed myself to be a bum. In sort of the ultimate tribute to bumitude I played Myst Masterpiece Edition for three hours last night. That's why I rarely play computer games: time just dissolves. And I always think there's something better to do with my time. But that was the point. I was purposely not doing something better with my time. And it is damned relaxing.

Today, I'm thinking of writing again. I'm actually itching to get back to Night Warrior and finishing that sucker off. Surely that's a good sign. I've been thinking of some short stories—contemporary fantasies—even though I suck mightily at short stories. They have an awful tendency to turn into novels on me. But who knows? I might actually bring something in under 10k.

I was sad to hear of SCIFICTION's demise. Seems like an unnecessary death to me, but what do I know? I'm just a fan.

And there's a very interesting discussion of how authors behave at conventions over at Café de madrobins. I'm absolutely glad I'm not required to promote anything if I attend any conventions next year. I can fake extrovertism with the best of them, but I'd much rather just meet people and talk. I've never been to a convention. Since Worldcon is in Anaheim in 2006, I thought it would be stupid to miss it. Though chat around LJ seems to indicate that WFC is the place to be. We'll see.

Right now I'm content to be hanging out and not having to pack anything.