A Warding

November 15

Allow me to shamelessly self-promote.

I know, I know-- you're crying out, protesting-- "Self-promotion? Here? No! Not in Tropism!"

But yes.

This is the link to the Asimov's Reader's Awards Poll: http://www.asimovs.com/asimovreaders_2001.htm. By following that link you may, if you deem my works worthy, vote for my poems "Incident" and "Bacchanal", and by so doing, help me win an Asimov's Reader's Award, which would be... well... indescribably lovely.

I've put both poems online here, so if you haven't read them, now's your chance!

End shamelessness.

Speculon #9 is up-- the all-humor issue! So much funny, and Timprov's Editorial does a good job of expressing why we need funny right about now. I'm in whole-hearted agreement.

Poetry-wise, there's three double dactyls by Jon Hansen, a poem by Tim Jones that I've been waiting months to publish, a hilarious sf piece by Clayton Crouch, and a rampaging monster poem from David Kopaska-Merkel.

I got a rejection from Sci Fiction today. Ellen says "It's not bad, but I'm afraid it's too young in feel for me to publish. Sorry." The story was "The Witch's Bicycle", for those of you marking your scorecards at home... I don't mind this rejection overmuch; there's still a few other good markets for the story.

Last night I revised "Pale Dog", and tomorrow I'm sending it to (drum roll) Sci Fiction! That's on account of my being indomitable.

Today I was invited to have Thanksgiving dinner with my boss, and with various other people related to A Certain Magazine, and some other writerly types (including one of the living legends of science fiction, whose work I've long admired).

My job is so cool.

Tonight: Read much of John Shirley's Demons (I got the galley, hurrah). Cooked with Heather (pasta and bread). Watched Buffy tapes and snuggled; Heather's sick with an ear infection, and thus in need of cuddling. Drank hard lemonade. And that's about it.

Short entry, I know. But it suits for now.