Pass the Brain

August 21

8:40 a.m.

Heather tells me I was grinding my teeth in my sleep last night. This is a sign of stress.

When a friend gets hurt, I tend to get angry on her behalf. In such a situation, part of my mind tries to be rational, to see all sides of an issue, to maintain my interested-but-not-directly-involved status... but another part of me is just mad. That's the part that's grinding my teeth when I sleep.

Of course, maybe I was just stressed because I fell down the stairs last night and twisted my ankle, which sent me sprawling to the carpet, howling profanities. I don't remember another time in my adult life when I've felt such pain. The ankle is stiff this morning, and I don't think I did any real damage, but damn, it hurt. Heather rushed to save me with ice packs and sweet love. It's so good to have her here, so good not to be alone when stuff like that happens. So good not to be alone all the time, really.

Or maybe I'm stressed over the thing that happened night before last over by Susan's, which is only a block away...

Or perhaps, could it be, a synthesis of the above?

Well. I'm off to work. Tra fucking la.

***

10:20 p.m.

I'm in a much better mood now than I was this morning-- like Douglas Coupland says, nothing very very good and nothing very very bad lasts for very very long.

I'm a bit on the drunk side now, after an evening of beer and conversation with the lovely Ms. Groppi and the lovely Ms. Shaw. Two pitchers of Newcastle consumed among us, at the local alehouse, and also a reuben sandwich consumed by me, for sustenance.

My typing fingers feel disembodied.

Have y'all read Neil Gaiman's funny funny essay about the effect of alcohol upon a writer? S'funny. I'm reminded of it now, as I'm slightly drunk and writing.

So. Concrete things. Sold a story today, la. "Behemoth" was accepted by Steve Eller for the Brainbox II: Son of Brainbox anthology. The first Brainbox antho was a Stoker nominee, which is a good sign, hmm? Steve is an editor at Chizine. That magazine held "Behemoth" a while back, but passed on it-- Steve really liked the story, though, so yesterday he asked me to send it to him for Brianbox II. The anthology consists of horror stories and nonfiction pieces about the genesis of those stories-- to answer that constant question, "Where do you get your ideas?" I've already thought about the contents of the non-fiction piece, and I think it'll be a lot of fun to write. The anthology is supposed to come out in October. It's an e-book; I'll let y'all know when it's available for purchase. And my payment is royalties, so be sure to tell your friends to buy it, too...

A literary magazine is currently holding "Behemoth" for further consideration (in fact, I have to send them a withdrawal letter tonight). That magazine pays quite well-- I could have made over $300 from a sale to them-- but I decided to follow my heart and let Brainbox have the story. I want to support e-publishing, and I'd rather have the in-my-genre cred than a bit of money, which I'd mostly spend on celebratory dinners and beer fests anyway.

Besides, it's now-or-never for Brainbox, and the literary journal was nothing more than a strong "maybe"-- I wrote this story at Clarion, and I really want to see it published. I don't want it to be a bridesmaid again.

It was a hard decision, but I'm happy with the decision I made.

In other news... fellow Clarionite and Writer of the Future J. Simon got a good review at Tangent for his story "An Idiot Rode to Majra." The reviewer essentially said that J.'s story should have won the Grand Prize (it didn't, alas). The story is absolute lyrical brilliance. Buy the WotF antho for J.'s story alone, if it comes to that-- it's beautiful, one of the best fantasies I've read in years.

So. Last night I was productive, reading slush for Speculon, sending out a few "maybe"s and a lot of "no"s. Overall quality of submissions is still very high-- I'm getting subs from past Rhysling and Stoker winners, as well as wonderful stuff by new and under-appreciated poets. I love this gig.

At work-work-- we finished the issue today, hurrah! The morning was hectic, the afternoon very mellow. A nice day indeed. I came home to Heather and snuggles and romping and a bit of stress and more snuggles and beer with Susan and now, here I am, wanting to write, and a bit rather much tipsy.

Okay. G'night.