Coy
August 6
Hey, y'all. Happy Monday. I have once more joined the working world. I spent today at work immersed in obituaries for and appreciations of Poul Anderson, and scanning old photographs of him... Sad. I feel especially bad, since I dissed his book Operation Chaos a while back in this journal... I should mention, I enjoyed bits of that book greatly (especially the "Operation Salamander" section)-- I only objected to seeing four loosely connected novellas collected and called a "novel." Of course, I dissed Faulkner in that same journal entry for indulging in similar behavior, and I love Faulkner's work, so I suppose I wasn't being cruel, but still...
I'm not being intentionally coy about the Certain Magazine, by the way-- I just don't want to mention its name here, because I'd rather not have this journal pop up in search engines when people search for the magazine... especially since, inconceivable as it now seems, I might want to complain here about the job sometime. Gotta cover contingencies.
Job is good, though. Today I did mostly layout and Photoshop stuff, which is fun and which I love. Once I learn house style, I'll be able to zip along and actually be helpful and contribute and so on. I think working for a monthly magazine is going to be stressful in a really cool and interesting way...
On the writing front-- I received a brutal form rejection of my novel from a publishing house (but not from the agent, who probably just received the whole manuscript today). Sigh and tra la. Also a bounce from Jack at Flesh and Blood on a story I resurrected from my trunk yesterday. Sigh. On the happy front, John O'Neill at Black Gate is holding one of my stories. He says "I will keep [your story] in my slim file of fiction-to-keep-firmly-in-mind." Basically, if he can find a slot for a contemporary fantasy at that story's length, it's in. So let's hope Black Gate has a long life, and ample time to publish me! He wants to see more fiction from me, too, even contemporary fantasy (which they have no immediate need for), so that's gratifying. I also got an e-mail from a poetry editor a couple of days ago, asking for some of my work. So I feel loved. Truly.
Huh. I'm awkward all over here. I seem to have sprained my eloquence bone today.
I had a fun weekend. I don't think I'm up to a big retrospective, though... I went to a good party which Heather talks about a bit more in her journal... I finished Bridget (Lalala!) and started Karen Fowler's Sister Noon, which is oh-so-good so far. I had nice meals and nice hours and a generally lovely time with Heather.
Speaking of whom, she went shopping today and bought me sandals and lovely clothes. She's ever so nice. And when I came home she was beautiful and she kissed me and she told me she's going to bring home burritos for dinner. My life is good, y'all.
Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of my move to California. I thought I'd do a big retrospective, but really, that's what my archives are for, right? I'll limit myself to saying that moving to California might be the single best decision I've ever made in my life. I am so happy here, so fulfilled in work and life and love. What're earthquakes, wildfires, mudslides, and rolling blackouts compared to that?
I still owe everybody I know e-mail, pretty much. I'm working through it. I promise. You'll hear from me, if you haven't.
'til next time, ta.
