Issues and Situations. Oh, and Charles de Lint

February 6

No writing tonight. I worked at work, cranking on data-entry and listening to Stephen King's Blood and Smoke (which I'd listened to before, on the trip cross-country, but I was starved for narrative). I read poetry-- I'm thinking about poetry a lot lately. In the evening I ran errands, and read, and spent time with a friend. Didn't sit down at the keyboard until 11 p.m. I answered e-mail and checked journals and now here I am.

To write my bathtub story, I need to research a couple of things about blood. I'd meant to browse around online tonight, but it didn't happen-- which is okay. Real-life takes priority sometimes. As well it should.

I'm in a horrid mood. Cranky, irritable, annoyed that there's no one around for me to snap at. Trauma. Issues and situations, as my old friend Joseph would say.

Gah, and now I'm being cryptic in Tropism, which I generally try to avoid. I'm in a bad mood about stuff that has very little to do with me, I'm annoyed by association. Anyway. I should think about something else. And definitely write about something else.

Like Charles de Lint. Yeah, okay. Good. De Lint.

I really want to make a pilgrimage up to Ottawa sometime, preferably during the summer when CDL is having his book sale. Every year (at least, this used to be the case, I don't know if he still does it) he culls his library and sells stuff. Remember, this man reviews books for F&SF, so you know he gets even more freebies than your average fantasy writer. I want to go to the book sale, and to the pub where he and his wife play music. Me and Blah used to talk about making a pilgrimage, and now that Meg's a de Lint lover, perhaps I can convince her to do the same. CDL has a newsletter, an e-mail list, and it's really lovely-- every so often (like last night) he sends a message. Just talking about what he's writing, and what the weather's like, and what music he's been listening to lately. It's grand. I don't know the guy-- I've sent a couple of emails, and he's always answered politely, but we've no connection-- but he seems to really have it together. He writes books (I love his books, I'm reading Greenmantle now), he plays music, he's trying his hand at art. He seems to have a lovely relationship with his wife. He puts out a chapbook every year with a story for his friends and family. He makes a living doing what he loves. He has one of the most personable web sites I've ever seen (and I guess I haven't linked to it-- it's here).

In many ways he's the role model for the sort of writer I'd like to be-- perhaps even for the sort of life I'd like to have. I'm aware this is foolish-- my knowledge of his life is limited and circumstantial-- but it can be foolish and useful . Your role models don't necessarily have to stand up under scrutiny-- they just have to serve as a standard for you, as something to strive for.

I hope I have a novel, someday, while he's still reviewing for F&SF. I hope he reads it, and likes it, and says nice things.

I don't think he's the best writer of our time (though I think at his best he at least touches greatness-- Someplace to Be Flying and Memory and Dream come to mind), but his work has meant so much to me. His stories inspire me to write, and to live better, and to love more fully. His work enriches me, as I would like my own work to enrich others.

What else can I ask of a role model?

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