Monday and back to the office with me today. Weekends are simply not long enough, ever, and should always be at least three days, methinks. Yesterday I witnessed the dreadful Saints performance, and it was not a good weekend for Louisiana football fans; the only glimmer of light locally was Tulane’s victory. I finished reading Shawn’s book, which was marvelous, and then picked out my first Halloween Horror read: Riley Sager’s Final Girls, and it’s long past time I’ve read this book. It’s rather embarrassing that I’ve not yet gotten to it. I also downloaded the audiobook of The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones for this weekend’s drive to the Redneck Riviera, and read another Alfred Hitchcock Presents short story, from Stories for Late at Night, “The Ash Tree” by M. R. James, which was delightfully creepy and reminded me of Daphne du Maurier’s “The Apple Tree”–and that in turn made me think about creepy trees as a trope in horror, and thought perhaps I should give the trope a whirl at some point. We watched the Scouts Honor: The Secret Files of the Boy Scouts documentary–which was just as creepy and awful and horrific as I thought it would be, as well as yet another pointed reminder of how straight people have failed to protect children since, oh like forever, and then cover it up as much as possible but then have the nerve to accuse queer people of pedophilia and grooming?
Sure, Jan.
We also watched the Jennifer Garner Apple Plus series The Last Thing He Said, which wasn’t great but wasn’t terrible, either; it just kind of evolved and wasn’t very thriller-ish or suspenseful. I also predicted one of the bigger plot twists in the first episode long before it played out in the show, but it was well done and an interesting story; but it wasn’t very thrilling or suspenseful; it never really seemed like there was any danger or stakes. It ws talked about a lot, but never part of the show’s reality? It was interesting enough to hold our interest–although I think I may have approached telling the story in a different manner than they did. It’s an interesting thought, at any rate.
It’s lovely having a kitten in the house, even if it means being more alert and having to get up more regularly because there was a crashing sound from somewhere else inside the apartment–usually followed by a galloping kitten moving at high speed away from the noise and mayhem he caused. He woke me up this morning by knocking my glasses off my nightstand table and then playfully batting them around on the floor, and once I took those away from him he went for the broom. He’s incredibly sweet, though, and I love that he’s so fearless and feels comfortable and at home enough to play. He slept on me for most of the Saints debacle yesterday, through the Boy Scout movie, and then moved back and forth between me and Paul during the Jennifer Garner show.
I also started writing the opening of a short story or a novel or something at any rate while watching the Boy Scouts documentary–part of it and the scandal was in New Orleans–and had an idea for the opening scene for something so I started writing it down; mainly about a college student away from home for the first time who’s obsessed with true crime and wants to be a true crime writer but isn’t sure how to get started chasing her dream other than majoring in Journalism at Liberty State in Liberty Center, Kansas–the town from #shedeservedit, why not reuse it? I don’t know why I started writing this when there are so many other things I should be working on. But that’s also life, you know, when you’re a writer–at least for me, there are always so many other ideas and thoughts and stories banging around in my head that it’s sometimes hard to focus on what I need to get done.
Heavy heaving sigh.
I never did make that to-do list for the week, so perhaps that should be the first thing on the list (I often do this so I can cross something off the list immediately; it’s satisfying and always seems to keep off working on getting the list completed). I also think that once I finish reading the Riley Sager I am going to reread a classic Stephen King that I’ve not revisited in a long time, The Dead Zone, which used to be one of my favorites and is still one that I think about a lot–especially during the rise of the former president, who eerily reminded me of the character of Greg Stillson, written thirty or forty years or so before the rise of the reality host/failed real estate mogul. (I’d considered rereading it in the wake of the 2016 election, but didn’t have the strength; I think now would be a good time.) I liked the opening of the Sager; which was encouraging. I hope to be able to get several books read this month…I think my reading is going to start picking up again, hallelujah. I think having a cat sleeping my lap while I read was what I was missing, and why it was hard for me to read since we lost Scooter. (I promise not to turn this into a Tug stan blog, seriously.) Today is going to be his first day left at home on his own for a while; we’ll see how he handles that.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader; I’m sure I’ll be around again later on.
It’s hard to believe that it’s October already; but this year has also seemed to last forever, which is bizarre and weird. I slept really well last night, and had a pretty relaxing day overall yesterday. I ran my errands yesterday morning and got them all done, which was lovely and then came home to watch some football games. It was an odd day, and my primary takeaways were that LSU needs a new defensive coordinator because they’re defense is getting worse rather than better; Georgia looked surprisingly vulnerable; Florida looked terrible; and I think Alabama–even in an off year–is going to wind up winning the conference because they’re the only team with an elite defense. Paul went to the gym during the Auburn-Georgia game, and Tug slept on me the entire time he was gone, which was lovely and relaxing. I’ve missed that. There really is nothing quite as calming as having a cat sleeping on you.
It’s so lovely having a cat in the house again, and I’d forgotten what it was like to have a kitten. Scooter was supposedly two years old when we got him, but Skittle was a six month old kitten. Tug isn’t quite five (still not sure about that name) months yet, but he’s definitely got BIG KITTEN energy, He’s absolutely fearless and not shy at all. It’s also nice hearing his paws on the stairs as he comes down them. I’ve missed the sound of a cat coming down the steps. He’s not heavy enough for me to hear him jump down from the bed yet, but I’m sure he’s going to grow into a nice size. It’s always fun getting to know your new pet’s personality–and like I said, he can make a toy out of anything. Scooter also wasn’t the kind of cat who would knock things off surfaces just to see what happens–Tug appears to be both the kind who will accidentally knock things off but also will do it on purpose. He also wanted my ice cream yesterday! Like I said, he’s completely fearless–will explore anywhere, and he is also fascinated by the windows. He also can jump pretty high, and I think we don’t need to worry about bugs in the house anymore.
I’m trying out cacao instead of coffee again this morning; it doesn’t have the bitter bite of coffee that I really like, but the real test of cacao will be tomorrow morning. I have been having one cup before switching to coffee–and yes, I do wonder if it’s the caffeine addiction that makes me switch over after the one cup–but tomorrow I think I’ll have a cup of coffee when I wake up and then take cacao in my go cup for the office. I don’t think I will ever give up coffee entirely, but I think I need to bring down my dependence on it, and I should probably never have more than three cups a day anyway (the most I have when I go into the office; I drink more when i am home).
Today I have a lot to get done. I was lazy yesterday after the errands and just watched games all day. The Saints play at noon today, but I doubt I’ll have the game on today. My kitchen/work space is a disaster area, and there’s things to do–dishwasher to unload, more dishes to wash, things to file and put away–and I’d like to do some writing today if i can. I didn’t finish Shawn’s book yesterday as I’d planned, so I will finish it this morning and then move on to reading horror for the month for Halloween and do some writing this afternoon. I want to get some of these short stories edited and/or finished, and there’s some other writing clean-up that needs to be done. I also need to make a to-do list. So, I am guessing the cacao certainly wakes up my mind in the mornings, as mine is now racing. I feel a little asleep still physically, if that makes any sense, so I’ve moved on to coffee and there’s that bitter bite I like. But I am definitely going to be productive today, and the first step of that is to finish Shawn’s book. After that I’ll come back into the kitchen and clean up in here–as well as write about Shawn’s book–and do some organizing before some writing. I have so many projects in progress right now that I need to be better organized, and definitely better motivated. I know the organization thing is a by-product of the anxiety (if I stay organized I won’t get anxious worrying about things I’m forgetting to do; if I stay motivated I won’t get stressed by deadlines, and on and on and on), but coping mechanisms work and exist because they work; and anything that brings down my anxiety is okay with me.
And on that note, Shawn’s book is calling to me, and so it’s off to my easy chair with me. I’ll probably check in with you again later. And if not, have a great day, Constant Reader!
So, we brought this little fella home yesterday from the SPCA.
His name, already given to him when we picked him, is Rum-Tum-Tugger (I announced it incorrectly on social media yesterday with a typo calling him Tigger by mistake) and that will probably change as we get to know him better; he doesn’t know the name at all. He’s almost five months old, and is completely fearless. I wanted to take all the cats home (and the dogs, too; it’s always so sad to me to see their hopeful faces and their wagging tails, thinking you might be their rescuer. All the cats we met were sweet, some a little shy (Sing out Louise!) which made me sad because they seemed to put some effort into making friends, but are apparently used to not being picked they gave up trying to win us over once we walked away from them. Tug was having none of that, and let us know he was the only cat for us. He has the cutest little meow, and there was no shyness at all once we got him home; he fearlessly explored the entire apartment, made cuddle time as well as let us both know, with head butts and purrs and exposed belly and making biscuits, that he was happy to have his Forever Home. I woke up this morning to him purring and curled up next to me on my pillow, and last night he followed Paul up to bed–and then came back down looking for me the way Scooter used to–hey, it’s bed time! He’s a kitten so he’s very playful–he made toys out of wrappers and dust and whatever he could find on the floor–he chased my highlighter around on the floor for a good half an hour or so.
Obviously, he needs some toys. Scooter didn’t care about toys, but clearly our very playful house tiger kitten needs things to play with.
I slept really well last night, despite going to bed so late–we finished off Sex Education last night. I don’t know if that was the finale for the show or just for the season, but it seemed like the perfect way to end the show if that was the intent. The season was a bit uneven, but they all learned important lessons and fractured families and friendships began healing. I also was incredibly satisfied with how the Otis/Maeve relationship was wrapped up. It seems to me that another season would undo this season, if that makes sense, and another one would feel kind of forced. The actors are getting too old for their roles, if that makes sense (much the same as the original cast of Elité), and I liked the note the season ended on.
This morning I am trying cacao instead of coffee, and just brewed my first ever cup of it. Here’s hoping it tastes as good as it smells? It’s unsweetened chocolate, really; and by itself, it’s kind of bland. But adding vanilla and sweet-n-low makes it taste more like hot chocolate. I’m trying this out as a coffee alternative; it’s supposed to give you a coffee-like energy but without caffeine, and without the caffeine there’s no crash later. I kind of like it. I don’t know that it’ll replace coffee in my daily routine, but it’s good and we’ll see how the effects play out with me. I am going to drop beads off today for the disabled kids, and books to the library sale but don’t really feel like I need to make a grocery run. I think we have everything we need, so it can wait until one night after work on my way home. I also need to get gas and air up my car tires, now that the weather has gotten milder. I’ll be taking it in for an oil change and a tire rotation this coming Friday.
LSU plays at Mississippi tonight; it’s the Magnolia Bowl rivalry game so they always, like Arkansas, play like world-beaters when they play LSU. They can make their season by beating LSU, and after last week I am not so confident the Tigers will make it out of Oxford with a win–they also got beat by Alabama last week for the seventh or eighth year in a row, so they also need the win to stay relevant in the division and the conference; it would take a miracle for them to win the West with two losses. (I refuse to call the University of Mississippi by its commonly used nickname for any number of reasons, not the least of which is that it’s a callback to plantation days. That school has been problematic for decades, but at least they no longer wave Confederate treason flags at games; how must seeing that have felt to visiting Black players? Obviously, their fans didn’t give a shit, like how Alabama’s student section was chanting homophobic and racist slurs at the Texas players several weeks ago–nothing says welcome to the SEC like homophobia and racism.) I’m not sure what other games are on today, but I think for me today I am going to clean up around the house some and finish reading Shawn’s book so I can move on to Halloween Horror Month. I feel like I slept well but have low energy this morning, and I am just going to roll with the low energy and rest and relax for the majority of the day so I can get some writing done tomorrow. Next weekend I’ll be in Panama City Beach for the night visiting Dad and my aunts and uncles, so no writing will get done that weekend. I think I will try to work on Jackson Square Jazz during the games today, too.
So, on that note i am going to head into the spice mines. The kitchen is a disaster area, as always, and I should have spent some time on it last night, but that’s what Saturday morning is for; catching up on things. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back at some point.
One of the things I’ve been thinking about lately is how we don’t really have a Louisiana crime writer who explores and illuminates the damage we are doing to the ecosystem and environmentalism of the state the way John D. Macdonald infused many of his Florida novels with so frequently. Condominium, published in the 1980’s, is a stinging indictment of crooked developers and corrupt politicians putting up massive condominium buildings along the coastline of Florida, despite the damage they do to the environment, all in the name of a quick buck. I have been thinking about this because I spent a lot of time in the panhandle in the 1970s, back before Panama City Beach developed into what it is now. I’ve not been back there since 1980, at the latest; but just looking at Google Earth images it’s horrifying how different and over-developed that whole area has become. (I was looking at the images because I was thinking about setting a book along the Redneck Riviera/Baja Alabama/Emerald Coast/Miracle Strip, whichever name you use for the region.) Louisiana, nicknamed “Sportsmen’s Paradise” because of the abundant fish and game and the stunning natural beauty of the state, has pretty much spent the last hundred or so years (at least) destroying and despoiling the natural resources of the state of Louisiana, killing off wildlife species while introducing new invasive ones–and don’t even get me started on Cancer Alley, that stretch of the river between New Orleans and Baton Rouge lined with petrochemical plants parked next to poor, mostly Black communities that have, surprisingly enough, large instances of cancers in the residents. Now the level of the river is so low that it can’t keep the Gulf water pushed down, and the salty water is making its way up the river and intruding into our drinking water supply here in southeastern Louisiana. I’m sure the loss of so much of the wetlands to ensure oil company profits hasn’t affected this in any way, shape or form. There’s a really good environmental thriller to be written about Louisiana (if not more), and I think maybe part of the problem in writing about the destruction of Louisiana in the name of unfettered greed is that I don’t feel knowledgeable enough on the subject to tackle it, nor do I have the time to spend on the research necessary.
It’s really disappointing to me that James Michener never wrote one of his two thousand page plus books about Louisiana. Louisiana history, no offense, is a lot more interesting than Texas’.
And Sportsmen’s Paradise is a great title for a book about Louisiana’s environmental disasters.
I suppose I should just go ahead and do it, regardless of how difficult and long and tedious the process may be. I also think part of the reason I’ve resisted this aspect of writing about Louisiana is because no matter how dark my books may get, I always want justice to be done in some way and to end the book with some sort of hope; there literally is no hope for the future of Louisiana because our politicians are all too greedy and corrupt and only focused on the now rather than the future, no matter how much they beat the “but the children!” drum publicly to fool those incapable of deeper thought. There have been so many environmental disasters in Louisiana over the nearly three decades I’ve lived here I can’t remember them all; and yes, I definitely count boil water advisories in that, too. There was the sinkhole at Bayou Corne (anyone remember that?) and of course Deepwater Horizon, whose true impact and the damage it wrought on the Gulf and the coastline will not be fully known for generations.
The one consistent thing throughout Louisiana’s history has been the entrenched systemic political corruption. I have written about that.
I’ve also been thinking a lot about Jackson Square Jazz, as I get into this revision, and remembering why I wrote it and what I was trying to say within the book; there was a thread in it that ties directly into the new one, and there are also some thematic commonalities with S. A. Cosby’s All the Sinners Bleed, which I am really enjoying reading. Shawn is such an extraordinary writer, with a gift not only for language but character, dialogue, setting and story; the complete deal, as it were, and definitely is going to be considered one of the definitive crime writers of this new generation of exceptional talent that has risen over the last few years. I am going to spend some more time with Shawn’s book this morning, too; I am really enjoying it and wanting to see where it goes and how it all ends. I also have the new Lou Berney on deck, and Lou’s books are always high-quality, clever, and engaging.
College football was interesting yesterday. My Tigers prevailed in a three-point nail-biter against Arkansas in Tiger Stadium 34-31, running the clock out and kicking the winning field goal on the last play of the game. Paul and I were stunned, as was the crowd in the stadium..,and then I laughed. “LSU fans aren’t used to smart clock management in tight games,” I observed, and Paul started laughing with me because the crowd in the stadium didn’t know how to react to the end of the game either. It almost seemed ant-climactic rather than exciting…how many games have we lost this century because of poor clock management skills displayed by the coaching staff? So it was lovely, for once, to see the Tigers play smart at the end of a game for a change. Alabama finally looked like Alabama for the first time this season–but only in the second half as they iced Mississippi. LSU now has to play Mississippi in Oxford next weekend; it’ll be interesting to see how LSU stacks up against our old Magnolia Bowl foe. Colorado finally lost, which brought out all the racist college football fans on social media. The Texas A&M-Auburn game was just sloppy, ugly and unimpressive, while Mississippi State fell to South Carolina. But the big game of the day lived up to its billing–Ohio State v. Notre Dame in South Bend, with the Buckeyes scoring the winning touchdown on the literal last play of the game, 17-14. I literally only saw the closing minutes of the game, switching over once the LSU game concluded. The Saints play at noon today at Green Bay, so the grocery run I need to make will happen around that time–no fool me; everyone knows the best time to make groceries is during a Saints game here.
Yesterday was pretty relaxing, over all; a lovely day for the weekend and a restful and nice one, despite the stress of the LSU game. I’ll probably have the Saints game on in the background because it’s too anxiety-making to watch the games. (I have yet to learn how to control the anxiety during a game; it was certainly there last night and while I tried very hard not to get negative during the game, I could feel the adrenaline spiking and my heart rate going up, but I managed to keep my mind from spiraling and going super-dark as well not getting overly emotional It is, after all, just a football game and LSU football success isn’t necessary for my mental well-being.)
My goals for today are to read Shawn’s book for a few hours, get cleaned up and make a grocery run; while finishing the first chapters of the new Valerie and Jem books (tentatively titled, thus far, The House of the Seven Grables and You Gone, Girl) and also wanting to do some short story work as well, which is always fun. This Friday I am getting fitted for my new teeth (hurray!) and I have also reached the point where I can eat and enjoy noodles, so yesterday I made box mac’n’cheese (not Kraft, but one that came from the refrigerated section and simply needed microwaving and stirring; it wasn’t bad, either). Tonight I am going to make ravioli for dinner; we’ll see how that goes, although I am sure I won’t be able to eat any garlic bread. (I am able to eat Cheese Puffs, though.) I really want a burger, more than anything else. We are also making a trip to the SPCA to adopt a cat this coming Friday, which is perhaps the most exciting thing of all! I’ve really missed having a cat; they are such darling animals, and of course we want to get another ginger boy.
And on that note, I think I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back–if not later, than tomorrow.
I’ve been toying with an idea for an essay for a while. It began as a blog post, but as I worked on it I realized it might be too long for a blog entry, were I to cover the entire scope of the issue even in abstract form. I moved it from here into a Word document yesterday, which may or may not mean something bigger in store for it than simply a blog entry. I don’t know. It will probably wind up here at some point as one of those long rambling things I do from time to time when I feel passionately about something. Consider that your warning. I’ve been thinking about masculinity a lot lately–it’s been an albatross hung around my neck since I was a child (“Boys don’t play with dolls! Boys don’t read Nancy Drew!”) and after reading so many bad takes about how “men are in crisis”–which basically boil down to an inability to adapt to cultural and societal change that is so intense that they resist such adaptation violently–I started thinking about masculinity and what it means to be a man; if it means anything, really. It’s probably too important an issue for me to take on in a personal essay, but personal essays are supposed to be revealing, and no one expects me to have an encyclopedic knowledge of everything ever written about American masculinity, and to discuss it; thinking I can’t write something for whatever reason is self-sabotage of the worst kind, and something I am guilty of, over and over, throughout my life and career.
And yes, self-sabotage is 100% a by-product of my anxiety.
I also have Justin Baldoni’s book about masculinity, Man Enough, which is also an exploration of masculinity. Baldoni played the incredibly hot and sexy father of Jane the Virgin’s baby, and so as a gorgeous male actor/sex symbol, he has some gravitas to speak on the subject. I’m looking forward to cycling around to his book, once I finish my reread of a Charlemagne biography I really enjoy. I also spent some more time with Shawn’s All the Sinners Bleed, which I am liking and savoring as I go–and can’t wait to spend some more time with it today. When I finish, Lou Berney’s Dark Ride has preempted everyone and been moved to the top of the TBR pile. It’s so lovely having so many great options of what to read next. I also think once October rolls around I am going to read only horror that month, in honor of the season–so I need to finish Shawn and Lou’s books before the month turns.
It also occurs to me that many of my books–unbeknownst to me–have explored the topic of masculinity in great detail already.
I slept really well last night, and only got up once. Ironically once I did wake up, I thought wow you really slept late and then saw it was quarter past seven on my alarm. I guess how it feels matters more than how long it actually was, and what truly matters is that I woke up feeling rested and relaxed and ready for my coffee this morning. I am debating right now whether I want to take the books to the library sale and the beads to the donor bins as well s make a slight grocery run–but am leaning towards not making the trip outside the house. I don’t really need anything from the store until Monday at the earliest, and the boxes of books and beads are out of the way and not bothering anyone, let alone my need for order and open space in the living room. I also want to work on some writing today before the games, so maybe leaving the house today isn’t in the cards–or am I just being lazy? It’s definitely possible that laziness and procrastination and my tendency to self-sabotage is what is really going on here. It’s possible. I do tend to put things off I consider unpleasant (and by unpleasant, I mean have to put some effort into it)…
LSU plays Arkansas tonight in Death Valley, and tonight we’ll find out two things: basically, how good either time is. It’s hard to say this early in the season how much quality your wins and losses have; the Florida State-Clemson game today will impact how good the LSU loss to the Seminoles was, and of course we aren’t sure how good Mississippi State is, so we don’t know if that was a quality win yet or not. Arkansas lost to BYU last weekend, so there’s also no telling how good they may or may not be, either. The whole conference seems to be down this year, but a tight win for Georgia can be shaken off as meaningless this early, and Alabama may bounce back; a Nick Saban coached Alabama team has never lost more than three games in a season since 2010 and only twice overall; sure, they looked unimpressive against USF and lost badly to Texas in Tuscaloosa, but does that mean Alabama isn’t going to rebound and is destined for a bad season? No, I don’t think so. Love them or hate them, Alabama consistently wins, and an early season loss means nothing to their program. Sure, LSU could run the table, win the West and potentially even the conference title game and make it to the play-offs; but they have to run the table on a schedule filled with landmines, including both Alabama and a rebuilding Auburn as well as the always hated Florida Gators. There are some great games today, which is why I want to spend some time reading Shawn’s book this morning before the games start, and I plan on rereading and revising Jackson Square Jazz during the games today.
And of course, there’s always filing and organizing to be done. I have seriously messed up my filing system so thoroughly and completely that it’s going to require a major overhaul to begin with, but I also have to think about putting together a new and workable system that will be easier to maintain than this haphazard way I’ve been doing things–and of course the computer files are an utter disaster as well. Heavy sigh.
I’ve been doing a lot more research (or rather, falling into research black holes on the web) about New Orleans during the decade of the 1910’s. I am definitely going to write a Sherlock pastiche for the Bouchercon anthology–which of course means I will most likely be rejected. Perhaps a Sherlockian-type character, and if they turn it down I can simply turn him into Sherlock and toss the story into my short story collection? I need to finish the revisions of “Whim of the Wind” and finish a draft of “Parlor Tricks,” which will probably go into that collection as well. What particularly interests me now is “Manila Village,” a settlement of Filipinos on Barataria Bay, settled by native Filipinos who were forced to serve in the Spanish navy and escaped to Louisiana. There’s still a strong Filipino-American community here (which I actually didn’t know before falling into this wormhole of research), and I do feel that Holmes, living in New Orleans in that decade, would probably embrace them and their culture. (I also need to research the Isleños; descendants of the Canary Islanders who settled here.) New Orleans was also dramatically different geographically back then; the New Basin Canal was still there, for one thing, and I am not entirely sure when the Carondelet Canal (also called the Old Basin Canal) was filled in, but it came right up next to Congo Square; the streets in the Quarter were either dirt or cobblestone, and the lower part of the neighborhood had been almost entirely taken over by Italian immigrants.
I’ve also got strong starts of first chapters for another Jem book (sequel to Death Drop) and another Valerie (sequel to A Streetcar Named Murder); so there’s plenty of writing to be done this weekend as well. I’m not feeling overwhelmed by any or all of this writing that must be worked on and done; this morning I literally feel like all I need to do is roll up my sleeves and dive into the word documents head first, which is a great way to feel.
And on that note, it’s spice mine time this morning. Have a great Saturday and I’ll probably check in with you again later.
Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. Yay, I think. I have to get up early and go see my new primary care physician tomorrow morning–I fired the last one for a multitude of reasons I will probably go deeper into in a future post–but I also have to fast for that because I am having blood work done, which means no coffee, no nothing other than maybe water tomorrow morning. I think as long as I sleep well, I’ll not leave a body count behind in my wake on the way to and from the appointment. I am also going to be making a go-cup of coffee that I will be taking with me and you can best bet I’ll be slugging it down once the blood has been drawn.
I slept well last night, which was lovely because I was definitely running down my batteries by the time I got home last night. By the time I’d done a load of laundry, emptied the dishwasher and reloaded it, I was more than ready to collapse into my easy chair. I did some minor writing last night–a few hundred words or so, nothing much other than to be able to say “I wrote some fiction last night”–but that’s okay. I’m getting back into the saddle again gradually, and soon I’ll be clocking three thousand word days again. We watched this week’s The Morning Show last night, and I have to say, it’s an exceptionally well done show. The ensemble itself is incredibly star-powered, beginning with Jennifer Aniston and Reese Witherspoon as the two primary leads, and the excellent job of the casting director manages to work its way down from the stars all the way down to the bit players–Shari Belafonte Harper is actually a member of the cast, but has very few lines and is rarely on camera, but it’s always nice to see her when she pops up on screen, to be honest. It’s very smart and very well-written, as are most shows on Apple Plus–let’s not forget we wouldn’t have Ted Lasso without Apple Plus.
Ironically, I was also watching shorter and longer videos on Youtube before Paul got home and went down a “Calvin and Hobbes” wormhole of videos about the greatest comic strip of all time. I always loved Calvin and Hobbes, and have all the collections, including the massive coffee-table sized one that contains every strip ever published. I was very sad when Bill Watterson ended the strip on a high note, and I’ve always loved his artistic integrity about not selling out to film or television or merchandising (I would have definitely bought a Hobbes plushy back in the day), as well as his decision to end the strip and take it out on top. (I was also a big fan of “Doonesbury”, “Bloom County”, and of course “The Far Side”.)
Anyway, watching a few documentaries on Youtube about “Calvin and Hobbes” mentioned how much emotional depth the strip had; how it could not only make you laugh but make you think as well as tear up sometimes…and I realized that Ted Lasso, like Schitt’s Creek, was also like that. Calvin and Hobbes were both so fully realized as characters in the strip–as well as his parents, and the other occasional characters that showed up, too–that you cared about them, just as you do the characters on Ted Lasso and Schitt’s Creek, which is why character is so important when it comes to story-telling. People will only care if the characters seem like actual real people to them, and once they care…well, you’ve got them, don’t you?
Maybe I should revisit my massive Calvin and Hobbes collection, too.
There are some good games this weekend in college football, but my primary concern is, as always, the LSU game; they’re hosting Arkansas in Death Valley and we’ll get yet another chance to see how good the Tigers are–but we also don’t know how good either Mississippi State (trounced last weekend) or Arkansas yet are this year; the test will always be how the Tigers do against Auburn, Alabama, and Florida–and there’s also no telling how good Mississippi is this year, either–they play Alabama this weekend, so we’ll get an idea of how the Tide is rebounding and how good the Rebels are. Everyone is writing Alabama off, and maybe it’s simply been burned into my brain throughout the course of a long lifetime of being a college football fan,…but you can never take the Tide for granted or ever completely count them out. They have that “brand” recognition that somehow manages to get them the win in close games; the luck always seems to magically appear every time they need it, only deserting them in the one game they may lose per year. They’re in the same position that LSU is in; already one loss early and therefore cannot lose again if they want to win the conference and the national title. College football is certainly more interesting this year than it has been since 2019, at any rate.
I want to be able to drop books at the library sale this weekend, wash the car and clean out the inside, and hopefully go to the SPCA and get a new cat. I also need to clean the house more–at least try to keep up with it the way I did when Paul was out of town earlier this summer–and get some writing done. I also need to do some reading. I want to finish Shawn’s book because I also just got my copy of the new Lou Berney, Dark Ride, which I am really looking forward to; I’ve been a big Lou Berney fan since we were on a panel together all those years ago at Bouchercon in Raleigh, and his work never disappoints. (That panel in Raleigh was definitely one of the highlights of my paneling career as a crime writer; Katrina Niidas Holm was the moderator; the other panelists were Lou, Lori Roy, and Liz Milliron. Nice, right?)
So, tonight when I get home from work I am going to do some more laundry, unload the dishwasher and clean the kitchen, and then I am going to either write or curl up with Shawn’s book.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.
Well, we made it to Hump Day again, which is a lovely thing.
I think I may also be losing my mind? I could have sworn one night in the last two weeks I sat down with my journal and hand-wrote the next five or six hundred words of my story “Parlor Tricks.” Last night after running errands and getting home, I promptly sat down, opened the Word document for the story, pulled out my journal and started flipping through the pages.
Constant Reader, those two or three pages I could have sworn I wrote in my journal? Were not there. I turned page after page, growing more and more confused. How could I have not written it down? I specifically remembered words and phrases I’d used in the scene, describing how my main character’s psychic ability to read someone else’s thoughts sometimes created a psychic bridge between the two, which has just happened. The bad part of it is she read his thoughts and knows he’s planning on killing his wife later that night. I even got into the weeds with the psychic stuff, but no–I must have thought of it all, planned to write it down, and then…just never did. I’ve also somehow lost my belt and my Crescent Care hoodie, too.
Or Paul is gaslighting me. I’d prefer to believe that, of course (who wouldn’t?), but much as I want to believe that, I’d only be gaslighting myself. Heavy heaving sigh.
I was very tired as I ran my errands after work last night–needing more soft food, although I can eat stuff now that isn’t quite as soft; macaroni and ramen and soups and things. But the primary need was for things I could make for lunch at work; microwavable things. I also didn’t eat dinner last night, so this morning I am a bit on the hungry side. Yogurt and oatmeal and protein, oh my! But the end is nigh; next Friday I got get the molds for my new teeth made, and I am hoping that will only take about a week or so for the final to be ready for me to wear and use. (I’m also hoping there will be temporary ones I can use in the meantime, but I rather doubt it. But the thought of being able to swing back Five Guys on the way home next week is almost overwhelming.) I also weighed myself yesterday with shoes and keys and belt and wallet on and came in at 205, which is fine and something I can live with. I’d love to get below 200 again, but I’d rather that happen through diet coupled with exercise once I can go back to the gym.
But I did manage to get Jackson Square Jazz printed, three-hole punched, and put inside a three ring binder, meaning the editing just got real. I had gone back and forth over it, you know; should I re-edit/revise the book, or just do the basic copy edit? I didn’t have time to do any work with the Chanse book or Bourbon Street Blues before the ebooks went up, and at the time I didn’t know how I felt about redoing the books for republication; it was more along the lines of the old writer’s adage you can keep fixing it forever but sometimes you just have to say “fuck it it’s done” and it didn’t seem right. I wanted the print editions to be available as they were originally published…which seems now like a silly hill to die on. Why wouldn’t/shouldn’t I revise them? Jackson Square Jazz I think is the longest of the Scotty books, and probably has one of the most convoluted plots of the entire series; there was a lot fucking going on in that book. As I was putting the new printed-out pages into the binder, I came across the scene where Scotty is drugged and loopy in the penthouse on top of Jax Brewery when Colin scales the building to rescue him…and I started reading. I got rather caught up in the story–that scene is rather amusing and was a lot of fun to write–before stopping myself and getting back to what I was doing. I did think that was a good sign.
This week I’ve been letting the anxiety control me rather than the other way around. My supervisor is on vacation this week, which amps up the anxiety for me as I have no one to go to for decisions and/or questions; I kind of have to decide for myself and I really don’t like that. I think that was why I had trouble sleeping on Monday night, frankly. And I noticed it Monday night when I got home from work as well as last night. Granted, I was also tired last night, but I got very little done once I got home. Sure, I printed out the manuscripts (frontside and backside), and made groceries and picked up the new Lou Berney novel Dark Ride, which was very quickly moved up to the top of the TBR pile, but once the book was in the binder and the groceries all put away…I just literally did nothing else. I should have worked on “Parlor Tricks” while I still remember the continuation I didn’t write down but is only in my head; I should have read more of Shawn’s book; I should have done the dishes or folded the clothes that are still sitting in the dryer this morning. More to do this evening, I suppose. I am also seeing my new primary care physician this Friday morning, which will be nice, and then of course LSU’s game is Saturday night in Death Valley, which gives me the day free to run errands and clean and write and get things done around here because I don’t much care about the other games, although I’ll probably have them on as I clean and do things. Then again, I just looked at the games this weekend, and Florida State-Clemson, Auburn-Texas A&M, and Alabama-Mississippi are also on Saturday…so I’ll be paying more attention than I was thinking that I would.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.
Sunday morning after a satisfactorily relaxing Saturday, in which I watched a lot of college football while doing chores and picking things up and so forth. For those of you keeping track of the soft food diet, last night I tried mashed potatoes as a meal and it was rather filling, yet not satisfying. I was fantasizing yesterday about corn dogs and fish tacos and cheeseburgers and almost every kind of solid food imaginable at some point during the day, only to sigh and get another yogurt or protein shake in a box.
LSU played very well yesterday, winning 41-14 over Mississippi State in Starkville, which meant listening to those fucking cowbells all through the game, but I don’t know what that win means, if anything. Yes, it means LSU is now tied for first place in the West, but what does it mean for how good they are? LSU has been very dominant in its last two games, but Grambling State was very much outmatched and no one really knows how good or bad Mississippi State is, either. They always manage to play better than expected when they play LSU, and there have been some insanely close games as well as the occasional MSU upset win–and by quite a lot. I’m cautiously optimistic about the rest of the season for LSU, but my expectations aren’t high; I’ll be glad for whatever we get that is good this season. It’s nice to beat the Bulldogs in Starkville decisively. Was Florida State just a really good team and LSU played sloppy so had no chance? It’s also possible. Georgia didn’t look invincible yesterday against South Carolina, and neither did Alabama at South Florida. The Florida blowout of Tennessee annihilated any hopes they may have had of winning the East this year–I can’t see how they’ll beat Georgia, and Alabama, which is the only way it’s possible for them now. Another Tennessee loss will be fatal to their hopes for a big season–and they also have to play at Alabama….who also is looking a little shaky this year. I think the SEC is wide open this year, and Georgia is still the favorite, but maybe not as resoundingly as I had thought. Interesting.
So, as I said, the rest of the day was anti-climactic. I continued on my soft food diet, while fantasizing about solid food, and my mouth waters at the thought of what I’ll be able to eat once my mouth has healed. This may also be the last time I’m ever on a liquid/soft food diet, and certainly not for the length of time this is taking for me. That helps me get through the day, believe me–and those are the straws I am grasping at this point. It’s not really been that bad, but I think a diet that is so heavy in protein and fat can’t be that good for me so I am going to force myself to eat more of the baby food, which is dreadful. There’s a weird chemical aftertaste to it that I can’t quite figure out, but it’s nasty. At least the servings are small. I did eat mashed potatoes for dinner last night, which was just weird. Today I think I am going to make chicken noodle soup for lunch; I think I can handle the noodles somewhat, and that will be a good benchmark to see what I can and can’t have in terms of more solid food. I mean, maybe mac-and-cheese could happen at some point, you never know. I do have some things to do that I’ve been (as usual) putting off until the last minute, so there’s no other option than to do them today. It’s fine; there’s no Saints game to distract me or sideline me (they play tomorrow night) and I am conflicted about them; they are my team, but this week I found out our new quarterback is a COVID-denier and anti-vaxxer–at least as far as the COVID vaccine is concerned. I had started following him on Twitter (I refuse to call it X, fuck off, Musk), and then I saw him retweeting something questioning the WHO and the vaccines, etc. and thought, yes, because you got your degree in epidemiology and infectious diseases at Fresno State? I unfollowed and blocked him. This is tough for me, really. I never really felt the same about Drew Brees after he partnered with the homophobic American Family Association to promote “bring your Bible to school day”–which sounds sweet and innocuous….unless you aren’t a Christian. The fact that he and his team failed to do any vetting on AFA before agreeing to work with them was incredibly troubling; his reaction (“I’m not a bully! I support everyone! How dare you criticize me!”) made it worse. There was no humility there, just anger at being doubted or questioned, which belied the “humble act” he’d been playing since signing with the Saints. To me, that failing lessened him in my eyes because I’d admired and liked him as a good person for so long. No doubt, he did a lot for New Orleans and he still has charities and programs here his foundation runs–but the Brees family moved back to Texas shortly after he retired as well.
So much for his lifelong commitment to New Orleans. That also stung a bit. So, yes, while the bloom was off that rose even before he retired, I suppose I could have eventually gotten around to getting past it and excusing the AFA connection–if not for them leaving New Orleans. This city literally gave them everything they have…and once the city had finished giving them everything, they left when there was nothing left to squeeze out of the orange.
I’m petty that way. I love New Orleans, and don’t even think about disrespecting the city unless you live here. Only residents of the city have the right to complain–the rest of you don’t have to come here, and please, feel free to keep your sorry asses at home if you aren’t going to love and appreciate New Orleans for all that she is.
I was also realizing, as I watched the games yesterday (won’t lie, I always pull for upsets except for LSU early in the season; my allegiances and loyalties shift as it progresses as LSU works through its schedule and who LSU needs to win and lose changes every weekend), that I should be taking advantage of this contract-free state in which I find myself to work on other things and maybe get them ready for either submission or publication? I’d like to get my short story collection finished by the end of the year–I think some of my stories that are published might not be available for it, like “The Ditch” and “The Snow Globe,” and if I finish revising “Whim of the Wind” and the anthology I am working on it for takes it, that will also take it out of consideration for the collection. I know “Death and the Handmaidens” will never be picked up for publication outside of one of my own collections, and that’s fine with me. It’s a bit flawed and needs cleaning up, of course, but it’s a good story with a strong foundation that just needs tweaking. I finally have let go of my ridiculous notion that “Whim of the Wind” was perfect as written and only had one small flaw that needed fixing; I am still proud of it as the first story I wrote that a college professor and a writing class thought was good and publishable of mine, so it will always be that landmark story in my writing career, but revising and rewriting and changing it isn’t some incredibly unpardonable sin for me, you know. I also want to revise and finish “The Blues Before Dawn,” “Parlor Tricks,” and “Temple of the Soothsayer.” That should be my goal for this week–as well as starting the revision/re-edit of Jackson Square Jazz–and emptying my email inbox.
And there are other things, too. So much, as always, that one Gregalicious always seems to have on his plate. I also started writing up interview posts, based on panel questions from Bouchercon in San Diego, which is always fun.
And on that note, I am getting another cup of coffee before heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I may check in with you again later, if not tomorrow.
The weather has cooled down (Those Not From Here would scoff at the idea that temperatures ranging from 82-90 during the day signals a “cooling down,” but they can be forgiven because they clearly didn’t live through what was the hottest summer in New Orleans history. We broke records for everything. It was so hot and it hadn’t rained for so long we were in a wildfire alert, being cautioned not to cook outside–although why anyone would want to if they had another choice is beyond me. But yesterday morning when I left the house I thought, ah, this is lovely as I walked out to the car. As I indicated, the appointment went well, and now I know the backside of Tulane’s campus as well as where the football stadium is. I probably should explore that part of town more. I had an idea for (yet) another mystery series that would be set in the University area, or at least anchored there, but I am not as familiar with that part of town as I should be. I am very neighborhood limited here in New Orleans, but my own neighborhood and the one right next to it are so interesting and fun to explore that it’s hard to get out of my own neighborhood. Now that the weather’s nicer I think I might start taking walks after work when I get home. It’s Halloween season, after all, and New Orleans does like to decorate.
I was tired yesterday when I finished my work-at-home duties, and curled up in my chair while watching a gay critique of Barbie and the camp aesthetic by James Somerton before falling into a mindless wormhole of football highlights, reaction videos, and the occasional news clip. I am very tired of these times in which I find myself living this last third of my life. I did not have the potential collapse of American democracy and society on my life BIngo card; I’m not sure anyone really did. I think part of the reason I was so tired yesterday was the release of the inner tension and stress I was experiencing leading up the appointment. I was doing a pretty good job of handling the anxiety, I thought, refusing to let my conscious mind spiral (the curse of having a very fertile mind and a tendency toward pessimism is just how convincing the absolute worst I can imagine happening can truly be), but I also forget that the subconscious is also affected, and I’m not sure I can learn how to control that part of my mind, or if that’s even possible. Anyway, the reassurance that I am in very good hands and he has done the procedure many times successfully released all that stress and tension, and I think it left me drained and exhausted.
I was able to read more of Shawn’s book at the appointment while I was waiting to be seen (a book is such a better diversion than doom-scrolling social media on your phone) and my initial fear about the direction the book was taking–a mass school shooting–were unfounded. Shawn’s writing style is so rich and vibrant, too. I can almost hearing him reading the text aloud in my head as I read along, and I am very interested to see where the book is going to go. Shawn is one of those authors whose books I like to go into knowing nothing; all I know is who the author is and the title of the book. I don’t read reviews, I don’t read the jacket copy, I don’t read anything. (There are a handful of these writers; I also only have to know they are the author to buy it as well.) I hope to spend some more time with it this weekend. The LSU game is on at the ridiculous hour of eleven in the morning, which is the absolute worst time for an LSU game for me. I hate when they play early; if they play poorly it casts a pall over the rest of the day, and even if they do win, the rest of the day always feels anti-climactic. Anyway. So, maybe I will get to spend the rest of the day reading; stranger things have happened.
Tomorrow I have to spend doing some work; I’m not even going to try to pretend that I am going to get anything written or revised or edited today after the LSU game. I did manage to launder all the bed linen yesterday, and I also unloaded the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen last night, too. So that’s something, right? If the game is at a decent hour next Saturday I’ll take these surplus beads to the donation bin, drop off all these boxes of books at the library sale, and maybe I’ll be able to eat something a bit more solid by then? I’m worried about losing weight because I’m afraid I’ll lose weight after the surgery too. Never thought I’d be worried about losing weight, but I also never thought I’d make it to my sixties, either. I have to eat something besides protein shakes and ice cream, so tomorrow I am going to try baby food again, and maybe mashed potatoes. It’s so exciting to be me these days, isn’t it?
But the kitchen and workspace area looks better organized this morning, which is pleasing to me, and I have another load of dishes ready to go in the dishwasher. I also figured out how to end two in-progress short stories that have stalled, so I call that a win, too. And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines.
Labor Day Monday, and time to readjust from “Greg Herren Author” back to my everyday life here in New Orleans. There’s really nothing like your own bed–but the bed I had at the Marriott Marquis in San Diego was probably the most comfortable bed I’ve had in a hotel to date. I had trouble sleeping the whole time I was there, but the bed was so comfortable that I always slept some and always managed to feel, if not completely rested, but at least recharged. But oh what a lovely time it was!
I flew home yesterday from San Diego, where I’ve been since Wednesday. My apologies for being lax in posting while I was away, and I hope you didn’t miss me too much, Constant Reader. But it was also nice being in a bubble for several days practically cut off from the outside world. I didn’t write a single email since Wednesday morning; I only deleted junk. I didn’t write anything, nor did I read anything once I’d checked into the hotel. But what a marvelous time it turned out to be. I love going to Bouchercon–it’s a marvelous escape from the everyday and being around writers (so many writers!) and readers (so many readers!) and it’s just so much fun. There are so many marvelous people in this business that I so rarely get to see in person, and I never have the opportunity to spend time with everyone that I would like to.
There’s also this weird thing about Bouchercons. You can go the entire time without seeing some of your friends who are there; and you never seem to bump into them. Last year in Minneapolis I hardly ever saw Christa Faust, and even then only in passing or from across a very crowded room. This year I bumped into her almost every time I turned around, and it was an absolute delight because I adore Christa. You also get to make new acquaintances and discover new writers, too. I love debut authors! It’s always amazing to find new authors and make new friends, see old friends–and yet there were so many people I only saw fleetingly in passing, or didn’t see at all. But it was incredibly lovely, really. I resisted temptation in the book room (some of the collectible booksellers had some old editions of the kids’ series–including the super-rare ones no one’s heard of–but I knew if I bought any books I’d have to pay to have them shipped home, and so that extra step was enough to trigger my laziness (and miserliness–I can be extravagant to a fault when I really shouldn’t be) to step in and say, no, you don’t need more copies for your collection even if you can replace some damaged ones with ones that look pretty new for a reasonable price. And I don’t regret not buying those books, either. (I will probably get the ones by new acquaintances, though.) I also had four tickets to get free books in the book room, so I picked up Death by Bubble Tea by Jennifer J. Chow; Her Last Affair by John Searles (who I interviewed for Lambda Book Report back when his first novel came out, and that leads to a great story I will save for another time); The Quarry Girls by Jess Lourey (whom I adore); and one other that I can’t remember, and I can’t seem to find it this morning. Oh, well. Mindy Carlson, who was on the panel I moderated, gave me a copy of her debut, Her Dying Day (which has the best ever opening!) when I ran into her in the lobby on my way to the airport. I can’t wait to read it!
I finished reading Kelly J. Ford’s marvelous The Hunt on the flight home to Dallas yesterday, and then moved on to Laura Lippman’s Prom Mom, both of which are superb. I am almost finished with the Lippman, and when I am finished with this I am going to my chair so I can finish it.
I am pretty much taking the day off from everything and resting. I had planned on going to the grocery store–I still might; it depends on how I feel later–but I am going to relax today. I did get home last night in time to watch LSU embarrass itself on national television last night, but it’s okay. It’s nice to have any expectations for the season gone after the first game, and now I can watch the national title race with idle curiosity while watching LSU get through it’s season with no expectations from them. I was very concerned that they were being over-hyped (everyone seemed to forget that after the big win over Alabama last year, we barely beat Arkansas and lost to Texas A&M before being embarrassed in the SEC title game by Georgia), but this is yet another example of when being right isn’t what you want and brings absolutely no satisfaction–Cassandra was hardly smug as Troy burned around her, after all. I am exhausted, despite the fantastic night’s sleep I got last night, so I think resting up is indeed the way to go for today. We have shows to catch up on, after all, and maybe I’ll even splurge on a movie.
It was a wonderful time. I love my friends in the crime fiction community, and I love that I am sort of known in it now more than I was? I had several people come up and ask about my books, or tell me how fun I am to watch on panels, but I am also beginning to think that I need to be maybe a bit more professional when talking about my own work on panels. Something to ponder as I move into the adulthood of my career (it turned twenty-one this year, after all, which is staggering). I am inspired, reinvigorated, and ready to prove myself worthy to be a part of the community again. I want to get back to my writing and dig into it and keep going and do really good work. Reading Kelly and Laura’s books are inspiring because they remind me to work harder, do better, dig deeper, and aspire for greatness more. I have broken down the barrier that was keeping me from reading novels, or at least was making me unable to focus, and now I hunger to read more. Once I finish Laura’s book I am moving on to S. A. Cosby’s new one, with Alison Gaylin’s marvelous new take on Robert Parker’s Sunny Randall series. (I will never stop marveling that I am friends with, or at least know, my writing heroes.)
And definite shout-outs to all the people who won Anthonys this year, and were nominated. It’s surreal to me to see how many nominees are friends; and it’s absolutely lovely to see that. Only a few winners weren’t friends–and how can you not be happy for friends to get recognition? I adore Catriona McPherson and S. J. Rozan; how delighted was I to lose to writers whose work I’ve admired for years and how thrilling to be in the same category with them? I don’t know Nancy Springer, the other to whom I lost, but I love Enola Holmes. And Kellye Garrett and Wanda Morris are not only incredible writers but wonderful women I am very proud to know. I love Barb Goffman, who has always been so kind and lovely to me ever since the first time I met her. I don’t know Martin Edwards, but from all accounts he is a very kind and lovely and generous person, and I share the TOC of School of Hard Knox with him. The Debut winner, Nita Prose, wasn’t there and I don’t know her, but I do have her book The Maid, and I hope to read it before the end of the year.
So no, I didn’t win any of the Anthonys I was nominated for. What a fucking honor for a gay man to be nominated for three (mainstream, MAINSTREAM not queer-specific) Anthony Awards in the same year for three different books, for anyone, really. I think the only other person to ever be up for three in the same year is S. A. Cosby (and what amazing company to be in, right?); others have been up for two in the same year before (as I was last year; this year Catriona McPherson was a double nominee). I have been nominated for seven Anthonys in total now, and so what if I have lost six times in a row? Awards are lovely, but I honestly don’t mind losing. I love to act like a bitter loser because, well, it’s funny to me. I did start realizing sometime during the pandemic that my “bitter loser” shtick might be insensitive–some people would kill to lose six times; some are never nominated once–and maybe the “bitter loser” shtick doesn’t play as well now as it used to? I don’t know, but it’s such a thrill for me to be nominated, and retrospectively, I’ve had a pretty amazing run: fifteen nominations from Lambda Literary nominations, seven-time Anthony nominee, and once each for the Lefty, the Agatha, the Macavity, and the Shirley Jackson. That’s pretty fucking amazing, and maybe I should finally recognize that maybe, just maybe, I’m pretty damned good at this writing thing? I do need to be better about the other aspects of the business–marketing and promotion and so forth–and since my brain doesn’t juggle as well as it used to, I need to start getting focused and figuring some things out. The rest of this year is going to be taken up mostly with dealing with medical issues (I get my new hearing aids tomorrow!) and I don’t know how much I am going to be able to do or what I can and can’t do; and everything is kind of up in the air now for the rest of the year.
That would have triggered my anxiety before, but I am at peace with it. My decision to override the anxiety and remain calm while traveling worked in both directions, and it was lovely to not get worked up or upset or irritated about anything. I managed to even get my bag from baggage claim, the shuttle to the parking lot, and then drive home without losing my cool–I didn’t even swear at a single driver–and I kind of want to keep that level of calm and cool going forward. I did experience some anxiety before I moderated the Humor and Homicide panel yesterday; I was brought in–not at the last minute, but far too late for me to get copies of the panelists’ books and read them to prepare–late but my word! What a group of amazing professionals I was blessed to moderate! You need to read their books; they are talented and funny and marvelous and I was totally blown away by them–and three of them were debut authors! There was J. D. O’Brien, whose debut novelZig Zag, about a marijuana dispensary employee who plans to rob her employer, only for Westlake-like hijinks to ensue; the delightful Mindy Carlson, whose debut novel I already mentioned; the always wonderful Wendall Thomas, a seasoned pro whose latest, Cheap Trills, sounds incredible and I can’t wait to read; the witty and charming Jo Perry, who has a marvelous series from the point of view of a dead man and whose latest, Cure, sounds great; and Lina Chern, whose debut novel Play the Fool is about a tarot card reader trying to solve her best friend’s murder and sounds amazing. I had them read their book’s opening few sentences, and once I heard them, I knew it was going to be a breeze. It was wonderful! What a great break for me to get to moderate this panel and find even more great books to read. I could have talked to them about their books for hours. Afterwards, I realized I hadn’t even used half of the questions I had–always the sign of a great panel!
Speaking in public has always been difficult for me and always ramps up the anxiety (which I always thought was just stage fright). But now that I know what it is, I can sort of control it. I can’t control the adrenaline spike and what comes with it–the shaking hands, the talking too fast, the shakiness of my brain, the upset of my stomach–but I can control the mental part and not allow the anxiety to take over. It was very strange knowing I can’t control the physical response to the chemical imbalance but I can control the mental/emotional response, so instead of freaking the way I usually do before going on–I focused on making sure pre-panel that they were all comfortable, that I wanted them to talk themselves up with the goal of selling a book to everyone in the room, and basically, asked questions and got out of the way and let them shine like the stars they are–and did they ever! Especially when you remember I hadn’t sent them questions in advance to prepare; they each were speaking extemporaneously, which is impressive as hell. The nervous energy I handled by walking around briskly before the panel and talking to each of my panelists individually and staying hydrated. Yes, I drank water, limited myself to one cappuccino per day, drank iced tea for lunch instead of Coke, and tried very hard to remember to slow down and get over the FOMO I always feel. I did have some cocktails every night, but never enough to get more than a bit tipsy and paced myself more.
And now, I am going to head back to my chair and finish reading the new Lippman and maybe start reading the new Cosby. I have laundry to do, a dishwasher to empty, and basically, I am just going to relax as much as humanly possible today. I should probably make at least a minor grocery run; maybe not. But what a marvelous, marvelous time I had.
Queer and Loathing in America 