Shortly

September 22

News! I'll be reading at Writers with Drinks on Saturday, October 19, at Café du Nord! My fellow guests include Poet Cas McGee, Comedian Nina Arnelli, Zinester Lynn Peril, Journalist Joel Schalit, Smut writer Greg Wharton, and others not yet announced. (My designation, for the curious, is Fantasy Writer Tim Pratt.) Writers with Drinks is crazy fun in a great venue, emceed by the truly inimitable (and lately bicoastal) Charliegirl Anders. I want every one of you readers who's in or near or able to get to the Bay Area to be there! It should be a hell of a show. I'm delighted to be part of it.

10:40 a.m.

I've been having fun this weekend, but I haven't been getting work done, unfortunately. I did a thousand words last night -- those four story openings -- and that's it. The rest of the yesterday was spent on, you know, frivolous things. Heather and I had a nice breakfast at Mama's, then went up to Berkeley, where I bought new sandals (my old ones having split in twain), and White Apples by Jonathan Carroll, and some CDs (Ween, Twelve Golden Country Greats; The Old 97s, Hitchhike to Rhome; Less Than Jake, Hello Rockview). Heather and I noted with some dismay that we could've both shopped happily, entirely, from the $9.99 sale rack of slightly stale rock favorites. Old age doth creep...

We stopped in Café Milano (that might not actually be its name, but it's close, at least), which is nice, with big windows that open entirely to the street, lots of plants, a skylight. My lemonade tasted fermented; like someone had watered down some Hooch and poured it into a pint glass. But Heather says her avocado sandwich was good, and her latte was certainly better than most. I started White Apples, and it's full of that Jonathan-Carrolesque goodness.

We came home, and showered (because we walked around a lot, and it was hot, and stinkiness ensued), and frolicked, and then Heather went to visit a friend and I napped. I woke around 10:30, ate some french bread with butter for dinner, and read Lords and Ladies by Pratchett (Heather bought that and the rest of the Witches books last week; they're my favorites). Then I wrote openings, posted an entry, etc.

Highlights (and lowlights) from the days previous include:

Heather and Susan and I went for sushi Thursday night (ostensibly to celebrate my sale to Realms), and we talktalktalked about writing and grad schools and other such things. Sushi and friends give me joy.

I had good mail on Friday. I got Alex Irvine's chapbook, Rossetti Song, which is marvelous from first line to last. His writing, just on a line-by-line level, humbles me. I also received payment for my 2nd Realms story, "Fable from a Cage". Whee, money! The equivalent of, oh, 7 day's pay. I have a savings account again... though much of the money is already earmarked for various necessities/long-awaited frivolities. But still, there'll be a bit left over just to sit quietly in my bank account and help out in future emergencies.

Got a rejection Saturday morning from Strange Horizons, which, given that it was basically a horror story (a very literary story, I think, but it was still meant to inspire a horrific emotional response), isn't too surprising. Jed said they liked it much more than they would've expected; very unpleasant, and yet well done. I sent it off to Chizine; I think it's probably more up their alley, anyway, but they were closed to submissions until a few days ago, so I couldn't send it to them first.

I got a couple of other stories in the mail, too, which made me feel marginally productive. I also caught up on answering the oldest of my Star*Line submissions, though there are still lots left. Which is a good thing. It's just that I've been feeling strangely distracted and unfocused all weekend, and not attentive enough to read poetry properly.

I've got lots to do today -- laundry and grocery shopping will eat a fair chunk of time. I also need to write my reviews, which are due tomorrow (actually, they were due Friday, but my reviews editor Jonathan is a kind man, and let me have the weekend to finish them).

Okay, I'm off to sort laundry. Be back later.

4:50 p.m.

Whoo. We successfully did laundry; we're set for another few weeks. Then we got home, and found Holly had totally cleaned the kitchen and most of the bathroom. Thus inspired, we began to clean -- though "sort the mounds of crap" might be a better description. But the dining room table is cleaned off, and the books are put on shelves, if not shelved in proper order, and Heather's terrifying "Craft Area" (a sort of black hole/bermuda triangle/pocket of nonlinear space in the dining room) has been greatly tamed.

I also wrote one review, which is too long, but by cutting out all mention of the stories I didn't especially like, it should become roughly the right length. I've got another review to write as well, but it should be easier, oddly enough because I'm less enthusiastic about it -- I might have a hard time getting to 500 words, actually.

10:10 p.m.

We grocery shopped! We have beer and coffee filters and fish and juice and other things!

The reviews are done, and sent off, la.

I've been reading lots of short fiction this weekend; not so much in the anthologies I reviewed, which I mostly read last week, but other things. We bought a couple of copies of The Third Alternative, and I think it's my new favorite (print) magazine. I especially liked Mat Coward's "One Box of Books." Good nonfiction in the magazine, too. I'm getting seriously into short-story mode. It should be a fun few weeks.

Words written since February 1, 2002: 167,700

Words written since last entry:
1,100

Send me the putty nose of Orson Welles.

Tim Pratt
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222

Read about my current publications.

Join my notify list.
Send a blank e-mail to:
Tropismjournal-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

Post on my newsgroup

Donate money to future Tropism Press projects! Every little bit helps!