Phlegmatic Pennies

November 7

9:36 a.m.

I'm staying home from work today -- 'tis the season to be sickish. I've had brutal headaches for the past two days (though generous application of painkiller has kept that from detracting from my quality of life), body aches, stuffy head, the usual cold-like symptoms. This morning I have a fever (not a high one, but still), and I'm afraid I'm in the clutches of an autumnal virus. It's a good day to lay on the couch, drink tea and water, read, and moan occasionally to myself. Such is my plan. I feel wiped-out, and I haven't done anything more strenuous than get out of bed. Bleah. And I have so much stuff I need to be doing at work... sigh. I'll catch up tomorrow, I guess. I'd only get sicker if I went to work today, especially since I'd almost certainly end up moving firewood in the drizzle...

So, recent developments. I sold a story to Deep Outside, only it's not Deep Outside anymore, because Brian Callahan decided to leave his position as publisher, and the editor, John Cullen, has taken over. The practical results of that switchover are: Their fiction is no longer available free (it's downloadable from Fictionwise, generally for less than a buck per story); they no longer pay 3 cents/word (they pay an advance of $10 against 25% royalties; sigh); the magazine is now called Far Sector.

The switchover just happened. I was informed of the new situation in the acceptance letter (which was actually a "Hey, if you don't mind all these changes, I'd like to publish your story" letter). I had to think about it -- after all, I submitted to a magazine that paid 3 cents/word, and got accepted by a magazine that pays $10, so what to do? John Cullen is a good editor, though, and he accepted two of my stories for Deep Outside, "The Dog Boys" and "Bleeding West" (and if you haven't read them, do -- they're some of my best, darkest work); in fact, he bought the first story I ever sold at pro rates. So I like him, and wish him well in his new venture, and I want to help -- so, yeah, I sold him the story.

The story is "The Scent of Copper Pennies", which is something of a companion piece to my poem "The God of the Crossroads". The lovely Susan Marie memorably referred to this as my "quantum physics voodoo love story", which is an apt and lovely description -- someday I'd like to have a collection called Quantum Physics Voodoo Love Stories. I'll let you know when the story is available to be read, and hope you'll shell out the 64-cents or whatever to read it, because I really love this one...

I went to Jonathan Carroll's appearance at Dark Carnival last night, with Heather and Sean Klein (who got a new job, yay!). He didn't read, just sat and signed. I told him Outside the Dog Museum is perhaps my favorite novel ever, and he said "Ah, good old Harry. I still smile when I think about him." Which is a nice response, I think. I got a couple of books signed. He was pleasant, amazingly mellow, but then, he lives in Vienna, where I gather people are mellow. He had more of a physical presence than I expected -- somehow I've always imagined him as a slight man, but he's not. Sean and I browsed for a while, then Heather arrived and got a book signed, and I bought The Physiognomy by Jeffrey Ford and The Art of Arrow Cutting by Stephen Dedman, and we three went to Intermezzo in Berkeley for dinner. I'd never been there, it was Sean's suggestion, and it was a good one -- enormous salads, generous sandwiches, pretty cheap. Mmm. We talked about writing and jobs and the small press and other such things. Around 9 we split, and he returned to Sacramento, and Heather and I went home and spent the rest of the evening in fairly typical fashion.

Oh, yeah, and I got a great Land of Laughs magnet at the signing -- they were giving 'em away! It looks good on the fridge, next to Nick's Northern Gothic magnet...

Okay. I'm off to drink tea and lay around now.

Words written since February 1, 2002: 176,100

Words written since last entry:
Revising the night away.

Send me the elixir vitae, in chicken-soup flavor.

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

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