Dr. N and My Car and Other Things

May 2

4:30 p.m.

Obviously, I didn't write another entry last night. I sat on the couch with Scott and then went to bed early, knowing I'd have to get up earlier than usual to catch the bus. So, tra la.

All I really wanted to write about was my story that just appeared at Speculon. It's called "Dr. Nefarious and the Lazarus Project." It's... well... it's a gonzo superhero mad scientist wily temptress imposter spy science fantasy story. Basically. Kind of thing. I'm very fond of it, and so are most of my friends-- this story was probably the most popular one among my old housemates, and they often clamored for more stories starring Mr. Li. There is another Mr. Li story-- a novella called "Captain Fantasy and the Secret Masters"-- which is currently making the rounds, looking for a home. "Capt." is my favorite of my own stories, I think; one of those rare times when my reach very nearly equaled my grasp.

I wrote "Dr. N" because I wanted to read a story where the mad scientist was really mad-- not just cranky or misanthropic or obsessed, but mad. I also find Kelli deeply, deeply creepy-- more so than any reader of this story is likely to. She's creepier in "Captain Fantasy," and she's creepier still in the novel about her I haven't written yet. So there are stories ahead in which other people can realize how creepy she is.

Mostly, though, the story's supposed to be fun... with maybe a little bit of seriousness running underneath. So, read, enjoy, and if you like it please tell me (and tell Tim Cooper, so he'll buy more of my stories)

My car troubles are over, tra la, with rather less pain than I'd feared. Today I get to pick up my beautiful dented battered silver Nissan with the rubber snake coiled around the rearview mirror (symbolic of Damballah, whom I first invoked to watch over my travels many months ago), and the lack of air conditioning, and the radio antenna broken off (which is fine since the radio has been broken for years), and the trunk full of stuff I brought to California and never unpacked, and the wasps probably still living in the trunk too, and the dirt, and the accumulated pollen and grime. I love that car. Her name's Denise. She's driven me all over the south, and to Clarion and back, and across the whole big country to California. She always cranks on the first try. She's got 150,000 miles on her. She's my rattling mechanical babylove.

Work is crazy-busy, but I just finished a phone conference (my bosses wanted me to go to the office in Nevada to talk to them-- I politely declined, and we compromised by yelling at one another over the crackling speakerphone), so I'm taking a few minutes to write this. Because I miss you. Because I've been immersed in day-job stuff for 8 hours (no lunch break for me today), and I'm ready to babble about other things.

Tonight, I have no big plans. I'm going to check the mail, for the first time in a week. I'm going to finish William Browning Spencer's Irrational Fears, I hope-- I'm about a third of the way done with it, and it's pretty good. I need to make a list of stuff to take on my trip to N.C., and maybe begin to think about starting to pack. (Oh, and I'm borrowing D.'s Amazing Capricious Laptop, so I should be able to write entries whenever I feel the urge, and post them whenever I pass by an unattended internet connection. So you won't be totally abandoned next month. Don't expect swift and regular e-mail correspondence, though)

Exciting, hmm? Actually, my life is very exciting recently. Sometimes overwhelmingly, frighteningly, disconcertingly so. It's just not exciting tonight.