Influenca

January 28

I don't know why I'm napping so much lately. Heather thinks I'm sick; she may be right, though when she put forth this hypothesis earlier tonight, when I'd just awakened from my nap, I grumpily disagreed... but when I first wake up, I tend to grumpily disagree with most any assertion. At any rate, I napped again tonight, for no discernible reason, unless you count Christopher Guest...

I had a very pleasant day at work. I spent the morning in the basement, rearranging anthologies. At lunch time, I ate some yummy turkey stew my boss made, and some tasty garlic bread. Then back to the basement for several more relatively leisurely hours of book-moving. I don't think I work at an especially fast pace, but my boss says I'm about four times faster than he is, so presumably I get to do this sort of task indefinitely. Which is nice. I really enjoy being in the basement, surrounded by books, with plenty of time to think... It was a real trip through memory, too. My boss has every sf/f/h anthology of note published since the 1940's (and many anthologies not of note, but his collection isn't complete; there are lots of small press anthos he didn't bother to keep, and since dozens of theme anthologies come out every year, it's not surprising that he doesn't have all of them)... today I saw most of the anthologies that introduced me to speculative fiction. I made a point of looking for those dimly-remembered books, checked out from the Wayne County Public Library in my callow youth, and even re-read a couple of formative stories -- "Cage 37" by Wayne Wightman and "The Window" by Bob Leman (both from The Best of F&SF anthologies). And Datlow & Windling's first anthology, which I own, but still -- it's a reminder. If I hadn't read "Friend's Best Man" and "Uncle Dobbin's Parrot Fair" when I was, what, 14? I don't know that I'd be an sf writer now. And one cannot dismiss the importance of The Arbor House Treasury of Supernatural Literature (where I first read "Pickman's Model") or The Arbor House Treasury of Science Fiction Masterpieces. I didn't get those from the library, though; my parents had them, and I can scarcely think of a better pair of anthologies to foment a young writer. This was back in the old days when I didn't really pay attention to the names of authors, though I did track down Charles de Lint, and H.P. Lovecraft, based on that anthology reading. I dunno... it was interesting, being reminded of my influences. Then my boss came down, and was looking at the books, and he took down a fat old hardcover, exclaiming surprise over having a copy in such good condition. He told me it wasn't the original copy he'd bought, back in the 1940's; that one was much more tattered and worn. It was, he told me, one of the first two books he ever bought.

That was sort of neat, too. Science fiction is a field that has many living members whose memories extend back nearly to the beginning of it all (if we consider "the beginning" the Golden Age, which could be debated at length; but for my purposes, that's what I mean). I'm lucky to be able to work with one of those people; he knows more about the field and the business than I ever will, but at least I get the benefit of that knowledge.

There were lots of anthologies I've wanted to read for ages, too; Razored Saddles, Sirens and Other Demon Lovers, The Armless Maiden. Ah, well. In time.

I've been gradually collecting the Datlow/Windling anthologies for years and years, now, picking them up when I find them in used bookstores, and actually breaking down and buying them new these past couple of years. Most of the anthologies are in North Carolina with my mom, waiting to be picked up or mailed to me, and a few of them are here in California. I haven't really been keeping track of which ones I have, so I sat down and looked at all of them today -- and it turns out I'm only missing volume six! Which is both gratifying and sort of sad; once I find that one, it's the end of one of my longest-running used-bookstore-search-items... on the other hand, I'll have the whole run, which is neat. And which makes me want Mom to send those books to me even more...

So, after work I came home, and answered some important e-mail (stuff about SFPA, and edits to "Little Gods", which should appear in Strange Horizons next week, god willing and the creek don't rise). Then Heather and I went to the grocery store to get "a few things" to see us through the week; we wound up buying tons of food, of course. I consider myself lucky to get out of the grocery store with a bill under $150 lately, and we did that, but barely. We won't be eating out for a while, though, which is ultimately to the good of our pocketbooks. We're both worried about debt... it wouldn't be so bad, for me anyway, but we're planning so much travel this year -- Wiscon, and visiting N.C. for my Mom's wedding, and WorldCon. Probably we'll be fine (it looks like once again my fiction sales will pay for my Con-going expenses, which is nice), but it's kinda stressful...

On the bright side, our house looks lovely. We got Karen's table and a couple of shelves, and now our dining room looks like a dining room, very homey and inviting, with plants and candles and all that. A serene space.

We watched Waiting for Guffman; or Heather did, anyway. I watched an hour of it, then nodded off into a pleasant doze fueled by a dinner of sandwich-and-soup. I don't much mind; Guffman is far better than the dog movie, but it's still not the sort of film that keeps me riveted. I napped on the couch until 12:30. I very nearly just crawled into bed and slept until morning, but then my synapses started snapping, and I decided to answer more e-mail and write an entry. So here I am.

Gonna go to bed now, though.

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