![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fifth of July Update
5/7/05 06:19Went to a good con over the weekend. Highlights included the acquisition of two books I'd been looking for (In the Cube, by David Alexander Smith, and its companion shared-world anthology Future Boston, edited by the same), the Barryaran dance on Sunday evening (Me: "My God, this horse dance is fun..." Rush-that-Speaks: "Have you ever thought about doing Scottish dancing?"), the amazing fireworks over the river, attendance at a number of fun and thought-provoking panels and the general conversation about writing that happens at such events, and a few lovely conversations, in particular one about the difference between narrators', characters', and authors' voices, and another with rabidfangurl about what it's like to constantly try to write books--sentences--as their perfect ideals, a la the ones in Morpheus' library.
Realizing that I knew Oracne from offline only and that Rush-that-Speaks knew her from online only was a fun only-at-cons-via-the-internet moment. Was also pleased at how exactly my brain recovered from introduction to editor-type people.
Gaudior: Here's editor of [magazine].
Me: Hello. Didn't I want to submit something to them? Yes, okay...what was it? Oh, right, the thing that needs major revision work. I shall stay silent, and listen, as I don't really know what I'm doing, pretending at this writing thing...
Editor: Hi.
Gaudior: You did want to submit something to them, right?
Me: gaping fish
Writing-brain (also the part that takes over in car accidents): Close your mouth and say something useful. Don't tell me you can't. You only like to think you don't know what you're doing. All that matters is this: you write, and you want people to read your stuff.
Me: So, I've read your website; are there any kinds of things you're specifically looking for at the moment?
Writing-brain: You are my bitch.
Rest of brain: I know, and am pleased, proud, honoured.
I hope in a few more years, after a few more books, I will be qualified to be on the "Religion in SF" panel and will be able to help keep it on track. It was great, but it did tend to wander. "African & Carribbean Folklore in SF" produced an excellent reading list and a website involving fractals. Sovay's reading was also yay, as was the ensuing lunch with various and sundry (no more ketchup jokes, thank you very much).
I also did my laundry and two loads of dishes, and got more sleep (six hours' worth extra total, two additional hours each day, for a total of something like twenty-one hours over the entire three days) than I do during a normal weekend. It's a bit bad that the sleep situation has got to that point, really--six hours' worth of sleep is now counting as "an extra day's worth" for me. I don't know how I managed to be that productive. Fear not: I'm now back on my normal "fall asleep around two, get up at 6" schedule, so I'll be back to headaches and minor hallucinations soon enough.
This weekend has convinced me I need a better job, as I've realized that this is the first time I was really happy [edit: for an extended period of time] for the past month.
Realizing that I knew Oracne from offline only and that Rush-that-Speaks knew her from online only was a fun only-at-cons-via-the-internet moment. Was also pleased at how exactly my brain recovered from introduction to editor-type people.
Gaudior: Here's editor of [magazine].
Me: Hello. Didn't I want to submit something to them? Yes, okay...what was it? Oh, right, the thing that needs major revision work. I shall stay silent, and listen, as I don't really know what I'm doing, pretending at this writing thing...
Editor: Hi.
Gaudior: You did want to submit something to them, right?
Me: gaping fish
Writing-brain (also the part that takes over in car accidents): Close your mouth and say something useful. Don't tell me you can't. You only like to think you don't know what you're doing. All that matters is this: you write, and you want people to read your stuff.
Me: So, I've read your website; are there any kinds of things you're specifically looking for at the moment?
Writing-brain: You are my bitch.
Rest of brain: I know, and am pleased, proud, honoured.
I hope in a few more years, after a few more books, I will be qualified to be on the "Religion in SF" panel and will be able to help keep it on track. It was great, but it did tend to wander. "African & Carribbean Folklore in SF" produced an excellent reading list and a website involving fractals. Sovay's reading was also yay, as was the ensuing lunch with various and sundry (no more ketchup jokes, thank you very much).
I also did my laundry and two loads of dishes, and got more sleep (six hours' worth extra total, two additional hours each day, for a total of something like twenty-one hours over the entire three days) than I do during a normal weekend. It's a bit bad that the sleep situation has got to that point, really--six hours' worth of sleep is now counting as "an extra day's worth" for me. I don't know how I managed to be that productive. Fear not: I'm now back on my normal "fall asleep around two, get up at 6" schedule, so I'll be back to headaches and minor hallucinations soon enough.
This weekend has convinced me I need a better job, as I've realized that this is the first time I was really happy [edit: for an extended period of time] for the past month.