Fine Day

July 23

9:25 a.m.

To paraphrase Dexter, of Dexter's Laboratory: "This is a fine day for writing."

Yesterday was, anyway.

So: I sold a story to Deep Outside. I'm not sure why I don't submit to this magazine more often. I've sent them two stories, and they've bought both of them. This sale is for my story "Bleeding West," which is sort of a western... it takes place in the West, anyway. It has outlaws, saloons, dust, bullets, scorpions, a posse, djinn, and a cross-dimensional cameo appearance by my favorite character from The Genius of Deceit, Cosmocrator. I love "Bleeding West"-- I'm glad it's getting published. The money comes at a good time, too.

Also: Heather and I did another collaboration. It was less of a lark this time, with a more serious intent. We talked about the story beforehand, figured out the general plot, decided who would do which bits, and wrote it. Heather started the writing on Saturday night, but then we drank many many beers, so I didn't do my first bit until Sunday. We went back and forth on Sunday afternoon and finished it off-- it's just a bit over 6,000 words. I think it's very good. The best thing is, it's not a story either one of us would have written on our own, and I think it draws on both of our strengths as writers. You know, I've always heard that collaboration is twice the work for half the money, but it's been quite a pleasure with Heather so far. The story is (somewhat tentatively) titled "The Ever After Bookshop."

Let's see. I read one of Heather's short stories, online, and encourage you to do the same-- it's really a lovely piece. It's called "Undercurrent".

I got a 4-day rejection from Talebones. I'm kind of glad, actually. There are some other places I really should have sent that story first...

I bought The Year's Best Fantasy, edited by Hartwell, featuring John's story. His story is excellent, and there's good stuff in there by Charles de Lint and Nalo Hopkinson and so on, too.

Hmm. In non-writing-related-news, I enjoyed my last weekend in Santa Cruz. Heather and I ate at the Pontiac, and we had sushi at Mobo, and we had cookies, and we wandered in Bookshop and Logos, and we worked at Pergolesi... not all in one day, of course, but over the course of the weekend.

We saw Final Fantasy. Eh. Nice graphics, standard nonsensical Hollywood action plot. I wouldn't particularly recommend it, not even as a matinee. Watch it on video. After you've dropped acid.

As usual, Heather made everything fun. We were walking down the sidewalk after I got word that I'd sold my story. I said "Oh, I should make my offering." I have this habit/ritual of giving money to street musicians or poets or panhandlin' travelers after I sell a story-- just showing the universe my appreciation, I guess. A block earlier, we'd passed a woman playing the flute, who had a sign that said she was traveling, and broke. I thought of her as a good recipient of my offering (we're talking like a buck and a half of mixed change, here, but still, it's something). Before I could suggest going back to give her money, Heather said "You should give it to that girl playing the flute." We sometimes have such synchronous minds...

I'm looking forward to moving in with her, though I have a lot to do this week. Cancelling my phone service, forwarding my mail, and packing, packing, packing. Not to mention doing crits, and writing, and sending out more job applications.

Tra la. This is life. I like it.