August 31st, 2007

bear by san

five random things make a post.

1) >24 hours later, I am up to June of this year in the Great Email Download of 2007!

2) coffeeem, in the context of an email exchange about music that makes you never want to leave the city again, lest you run into one of the folks in those songs, says: "the evil triumverate... Zevon, Waits, and Cave, Attorneys in Hell." And I thought posterity needed to see that.

3) I need to take archery lessons so I can get a consistent stance. Because when I find the right stance, I shoot rather well. It's just, you know, hitting it. Also, that panic attack seems to have cleared up, finally. Thank god.

4) Jeremy? Is not part of the problem. I would like to point out that Night Shade publishes scads of women, publishes them well, and treats them with respect. If there were a Lois Bujold story in that book, you bet she would have the front cover.

Sometimes, people actually do get listed in order of how much they sell, and thus, how many readers they will draw to the book.

(I am reminded of a recent conversation with some other writers wherein we were discussing the difficulty in deciding who to snuff dramatically when you only have one straight white male out of a group of ten characters, and you need him later, so either a gay character or a character of color, or both, has to get it.... Ahhh, the drawbacks of political correctness... We can't kill the token white guy! Oh noes!)

5) Pond Size Error: Abort/Retry/Splish?
criminal minds jj this is the lie

It's kind of creepy when winamp gives you "Bone Machine" and "Satin in a Coffin" back to back.

Can we have "Perfect Blue Buildings" for the creepy skeleton image trifecta?


NB: I may not be reading a lot of livejournal for the immediate future. Fair warning: if you need to tell me something, please email or comment.

Regular posting should continue, but I need to start allocating my resources in less endlessly-hitting-refresh-on-my-flist kind of ways.
iggy pop chairman of the bored

there's a train leaving nightly called, "when all is said and done--"

John JosephAdams has published a short piece on Undertow at SCIFI.COM. I am all interviewed and stuff.

I am still in something of a mood, and I really want to work, but none of these short stories are ripe, dammit. And trying to write them when they're not ripe only ends in tears and thrashing.

At least all thatemail is finally downloaded. Man, I have missed Eudora. Gmail is a lovely thing, but the user interface, I say after using it exclusively for two years, is ass

Well, I see SFWA is embarrassing itself on the internets again. Come on, guys, you can do better than that.

So I guess my plan for the rest of the day, after spending ~3 hours dealing with post office bureaucratic incompetence this morning*, is to play guitar, read books, listen to too much Warren Zevon, and maybe do some math.



*I got not one but two "pick up your package" tags in my mailbox yesterday, one for each of my identities. So I forged my own signature on the "Elizabeth Bear" once, since her name doesn't actually appear on any of my ID, and trundled down to the post office to pick up the packages. Well, my local post office informed me that the tags were for the central Hartford PO, and to go there to get my package. I only had the vaguest idea of where to find it, but I eventually did (there was some driving in confusing parts of the city, and so forth, and did I mention is was hot and sunny and I had a headache?) and they looked at it and said, "You are not our zip code," and I said, "But this is your address on the card," and they went in back and looked. And found nothing. And sent me back to my post office.

So back I went (another 20 minutes driving in city traffic) and stood in line for twenty minutes for the third time, and made them go in back and look...

Net result?

One (1) used compact disk. Which could have fit in my mailbox, or been left in the lobby, as the mail carrier NORMALLY does.

Argh.

did I mention I was already stressed out and CRANKY?
criminal minds fate

my whole existence is flawed

In an attempt to convince myself that I am not, in fact, wasting my life away, I am building playlists. Because playlists are where you get stories, right?

Right.

This one is for the secrit projekt.

Collapse )

Yeah.

Somebody's having a real bad day on a farm.

This is what I have to do because I can't apparently do any real work.

Well, okay, I got a draft of part of my Storytellers Unplugged column. That's something at least.

You know, it's funny. Intellectually, I know that passive learning is important, and if I don't feel like doing something it may be because my brain needs the processing time. It's a pretty good brain, despite its mechanical quirks (I wouldn't want to let anybody but me drive it. It'd leave 'em stranded by the side of the highway with a stripped transmission, seriously) and I expect a lot of it, frankly.

So I know I should forgive myself when I get to the point where I don't want to do anything more useful than poke around on the computer playing with songs and making icons. because stuff is going on in there. Important stuff. And furthermore, I know there are genres where it's considered exhausting! to write a book every three to five years. (I'd go nuts with that little to do. I guess they all have MFAs and are teaching classes over there in lit, though, so it probably keeps them busy while they revise.)
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