Halloween morning in Baton Rouge and I am up, needing to get everything packed and into the car so i can check out before my panels so I can escape as soon as my signing is over. That sounds a bit dramatic, doesn’t it? This is actually a trial run for my anxiety medication, really; I’ve not done anything public like this in years and this is my first time on anxiety medication, so will see how good it is, won’t we? This is probably going to be a shorter entry than usual; laptop/hotel combination isn’t optimal. Hilariously, I was rushing to finish that short story, and for some reason, thought the deadline was the 31st; it was actually Octobr 1st, which was…rather stupid. It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened, either, and it’s more evidence of why I fucking need to put things on my goddamned calendar. Oh, well. On the other hand, the story finally works so that’s something; maybe I can try to get it published in another market. That’s two deadlines I’ve fucked up this year for short stories.
I truly continue to be amazed that I have a career of any kind in this business. I am so consistently terrible about the business side of the business and need to constantly remind myself that it is a business. Heavy heaving sigh. But it is what it is, and I can promise to try to be better about it in the future and do nothing about it, which happens all the time.
I procrastinated departing New Orleans yesterday as long as I could, finally getting on the road around three-ish. There was traffic in New Orleans as always, at the usual suspects: the Superdome dysfunction junction, the Causeway, and Clearview. The drive up was nice, until I hit Baton Rouge traffic, which was the usual nightmare, and by the time I got to the hotel and checked in I was tired, hungry, and crabby. Valet parking was also a mess (and also not a choice), and so by the time I hauled my overnight bag into my room, I was kind of over everything. So, yes, sue me—I skipped the party because I wasn’t in the mood. I didn’t drive up for the party—I didn’t want to do two panels after driving up here—but it was merely an option. I didn’t want to go and not get back in time to have something to eat at a decent hour. What can I say? I put my pajamas on, ordered me some room service, and curled up in bed to read. (I also listened to a Tananarive Due short story on the way up here, “Battle of the Round House,” which was about exodusters in Kansas, which was no end of delight for me—because I love that history, because one of the dead little towns where we lived was actually a Black town for decades until it dried up and blew away, which I only learned recently. Not to mention how good of a writer she is, and she’s become one of my favorite horror writers—hell, writers with no adjective in front. I’ll be driving Ellen Byron and her husband back to New Orleans, dropping them off at the airport where they will be picking up their rental car. And then it’s home, with a possible grocery stop on the way home. Stranger things have happened, you know.
I did finish Mazywood last night before falling asleep; it was terrific and I truly enjoyed it (more on thta later, of course), and must say again how marvelous Tananarive Due is as an artist. She’s truly remarkable, and if you love horror and Hollywood history, this is an excellent read for you.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning from my workspace in the windows. Till then, and as always, thanks for stopping by.
