A good friend’s Google Talk status message reads:
“It’s only kinky the first time.”
I ask you, gentle readers: is that a reassurance, or a warning?
Change and paint fumes in the air
Kate made the final big move to Colorado on Friday and, true to form, teared up a little bit when the Denver-based Frontier crew announced, upon landing, “Welcome to our home town.”
Why? Because now it’s her home town, too. She’s like that. It’s endearing.
Friday night, I thought I’d try making chicken quesadillas in a skillet. Never done that before (in a skillet or otherwise), but it actually worked out all right (and the dogs assure me they enjoyed the failed attempts).
Saturday involved many hours of running around town to pick up home office and home improvement supplies, followed by installation of same.
Sunday I ran another session of Matt Wilson’s Galactic rpg, which is currently an “ashcan” release — a stage of publication in the indie gaming industry whose closest corollary in fiction is the distribution of galley copies to reviewers. The clear winner in this comparison is the indie gaming market. The gathering was another solid, fun session, despite the fact that we were driven up to the main floor of the house by the primer fumes creeping from the home office remodel that Kate is working to complete before the moving truck arrives tomorrow.
This morning, I sat in the family room with KK and Kate, munching on cereal and watching an episode of Avatar with my two best girls before heading off to work.
It has been, all told, a good start to the Next Stage.
I always have to be somewhere, after all.
I don’t make a habit of talking about non-fiction-writing related work, but it’s a special occasion.
Essentially everything I do to make a living has to do with writing, but each project is either more or less creative, depending on context. The editing and the fiction is far and away my preferred work, but the adult learning development and change and communication management has earned a soft spot in my heart by (in short) paying well. Certain lesser aspects of my affection can be bought, apparently.
To my point: due to the labyrinthine rules that large companies and small consultants observe in order to meet and exchange mutually beneficial products (read: “cash” and “talent”, respectively), the company I’m currently ensconced within has discovered that they have to end their association with me in a few months or potentially suffer arcane legal indignities for retaining a contractor for too long.
The upside: I have loads of forewarning and a great deal of good will and support from my current employer.
The downside: the timing is terrible. (That said, I’d be hard pressed to think of a point in time where these kinds of situations would be welcome.)
So, while agentry conversations and wedding plans move along at a brisk pace, there’s at least one more thing looming on my horizon. At least with that point of reference, I know exactly where I am.
Updates
(not the same as revisions, but we have some of those too)
I’ll be in NYC this weekend for various reasons, the most writerly of which include a weekend lunch with my agent to go over the last round of revisions and meeting up with Matt Cody, author of the upcoming Powerless, to coo over his newborn son. I’m told his amazing wife will be around as well, so that’s a bonus.
The primary reason for the trip is, of course, to finish packing up the last of my fiance’s things in anticipation of her move out to Denver next week. I can’t describe how happy I am that we’re finally at that dream-like future place that was always there and never here, and describing things is what I do for a living.
Updates, and apologies for the dearth of posting
I’ve been under both the weather and a number of deadlines this week and the site — as the least-squeaky of any of my wheels — has suffered neglect.
Most of the Casa household is sick in some fashion or other, regardless of age or elevation on the evolutionary chain; dispensing the various medicine dosages every 12 hours takes a quarter hour assuming everyone’s cooperating. Most seems to be on the upswing, though.
Revision deadlines are coming up for Hidden Things: my agent’s posed a couple of questions about various characters and happenings in the story and asked that I sneak the answers into the text ‘somewhere’. I generally don’t enjoy revisions, but the questions are good, the answers are interesting, and the sneaking-in part is fun. I’m enjoying this particular process, and I like the way my agent sets out the task.
“I’d like to know more about what Walker… what he is, I guess.”
“The background, how he got that way?”
“Sure, that could be part of it.”
“Oh, well I was thinking [insert off-the-cuff exposition that could go on a few minutes, but is mercifully cut short].”
“Hmm. That’s interesting. You should see how that works and work it in… you know, somewhere. Or try something else. Whatever you think.”
She asks just enough to get my mind gnawing at the problem then releases it into wild and asks, politely, if it couldn’t go track it down. (As if by that point I could do anything but go after it.) Challenging and freeing at the same time.
Finally, still working on the new look for the site. I’ve muddled through about half the templates and pages that need muddling — with any luck I’ll have that wrapped up by the end of the month as well.
Just to be clear, this is what I write.
A literary mode rather than a distinguishable genre, magical realism aims to seize the paradox of the union of opposites and is characterized by two conflicting perspectives, one based on a rational view of reality and the other on the acceptance of the supernatural as prosaic reality.
Magical realism differs from pure fantasy primarily because it is set in a normal, modern world with authentic descriptions of humans and society and involves the amalgamation of the real and the fantastic. It offers a world view that is not based on natural or physical laws nor objective reality, but is not separated from reality, either.
I’ve been using this term for a while now because I dislike “urban fantasy” as categorical heading — a feeling that shifts to outright loathing when it tries to associate itself with stories I’ve written.
Agent of change
Some of you have already heard the barest whisper of this, but it’s (much) more official now, so I thought I’d share.
I have a literary agent. I may or may not link to some kind of
website for the agency in question at some later date, but for now, I
think I’ll say only that they come highly (and often) recommended by a
number of folks in the industry.
She uses words like “delighted” and “thrilled” and “formal
representation” and “series.” I like these words. I particularly like
when they’re pointed at me.
So… yeah. A big step.
I think I will let is count as my ‘third sold story’ of the year.
Subtle editor compliment
One of the book series editors that Kate and I have sold stories to in the past has, it seems, added us to the list of writers they solicit directly for upcoming anthologies.
It’s a bit like being asked in for a reading by the studio rather than having to stand in line for the open auditions; definitely feels nice, but doesn’t actually confer any assurance of a role.
Still, it’s nice.