On the Range

August 23

Greetings, all.

I didn't get any personal e-mail at all yesterday; I chose to take that as a sign, so I didn't spend my customary lots-of-time online. Instead, I wrote-- 2900 words on Rangergirl. I really got into the scene, into the mind of the viewpoint character-- by the last third of the writing session I was no longer aware of putting words on the page, I was simply observing the way the story played out before me.

Writing is the best. It's levitation.

I was also practically-productive yesterday, going grocery shopping with sweet Heather. We bought great tremendous lots of food, and by the time we got home, we were too worn-out to make a real meal; we had veggie corn dogs and tater tots and watched some TV.

Mmm. So much peaceful pleasure in my life.

Heather bought me gifts, because she is wonderful. Two stuffed animals, one a beetle, one a lizard. They've joined my menagerie-- I now boast the aforementioned, four ferrets, a goat, a pteranadon, and a hedgehog. Every one chock-full of sentimental value and totemic significance.

I sprawled on Heather's bed late last night after my writing, while she put the final finishing touches on her San Francisco guide. I read one of her books, a fascinating short history of the City by Tom Cole. I've rarely read such an engaging, well-told history-- I recommend it for anyone who wants an overview of the City's past. After Heather finished working, I proofread her article while she read the first three chapters of Rangergirl. She's a hell of a writer, y'all. I have a hard time making my own non-fiction writing interesting, but Heather is wonderful when it comes to conveying information in an engaging and entertaining way.

I finished Denton's Buddy Holly is Alive and Well on Ganymede. The book is brilliant. Tremendously satisfying. Yum.

I'm presently reading Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson (so that I can read Heather's article on the book with full comprehension and no spoiling-of-the-plot; and also for pleasure, of course). I'm also reading a brutal and artful horror novel by an acquaintance of mine. The book is done, soon to be published, and he wants me to give him a blurb. I like the book; I can do as he asks.

Work is good, though somewhat slow, as we're in the post-issue lull. I'm mostly doing filing and make-work. Part of my job is making phone calls to publishing houses, asking them to send us books-- as a result, I'm talking to various publicists and junior editors at both small and major publishers. Some of them are very friendly-- making such contacts is good, right? Maybe when my novels show up on their desks, they'll remember me and give me a closer read. The work still has to sell itself, of course, but every little bit helps... this is a good job, neh?

Tonight Heather and I are watching The Sopranos. I watched all but one of the first-season tapes with Meg earlier this year, but Heather hasn't seen any of them, so we're starting from the beginning. No great hardship there; the show is brilliant. The second season will be available for rental in November; yum.

I ordered lots of books online a couple of days ago, reference and fiction works. Very thrilling. Book shopping is almost the only kind of shopping that gets me truly excited.

Time is going very quickly these days. This is my third week at A Certain Magazine; it's unbelievable. The past two weeks have blown by. And yet... that's okay. Because, as I recently told Heather, I don't feel like I'm waiting for anything anymore. I'm where I want to be. I have the job I want, I live with a wonderful lover, I have enough money, my writing is going well... I'm here.

I've arrived.