I write to you from a very lovely hotel room at the Marriott in foggy San Diego this morning. My room is quite nice; I have a lovely view of the marina and harbor and a balcony, and the room is actually quite large. I am already dehydrated, which means I need to drink water today rather than Coke–which is just as well; I always have trouble sleeping when I travel and the caffeine doesn’t help very much–and have already run into some people already; some of the Queer Crime Writers, and various other crime fiction friends and writers. I am still on central time, so I woke up at four my time like always–it was two here, so of course I was terribly confused, because I’d left the bathroom light on and in my sleepy confusion I thought it was the sun and thought how did I not close the curtains last night? But after a few moments, I remembered where I was and what time it actually was and the curtains were closed.
I posted yesterday that I was trying out a new thing called Stress-Free Traveling, or something like that. Now that I know that I have anxiety, and can recognize those feelings as what they are, I can handle and control them. My flight was at one thirty, so I scheduled an eye exam in Metairie on the way for 10:20, figuring I’d be that much closer to the airport and I could still get there in plenty of time to make it through security and so forth and have lunch. The focus was on remaining calm and not getting upset at anything that was out of my control. Airports and airplanes are huge triggers for me, primarily because I worked in one for so long and I get tired of being around inconsiderate and rude people; and every time I fly it seems people’s behavior gets worse. But I remained calm. I didn’t get annoyed or fidgety in the security line; I didn’t get worked up about boarding and the line and all of that stuff. I got my lunch at Shake Shack–it was quite tasty–and the flight to Dallas wasn’t even half full so I had a whole row to myself. The flight out of Dallas was delayed for an hour because of a mechanical issue and an equipment swap (the jargon still flows naturally out of me), but it was fine. It was lovely meeting Carsen Taite at the Dallas airport, and we managed to get an empty seat between us on the flight to San Diego. I did get a bit impatient–hot, sweaty, traveling all day–at the over-long wait to get checked in, but the young woman was lovely and gave me this lovely room. I went to the Cozies and Cocktails event, which was fun, and then I went to the bar and hung out with the Queer Crime Writers, which is always delightful, and also ran into other friends, equally delightful before calling it a night and coming up to my nice, properly cold room, and slept like I do at home–deep periods of sleep interrupted by wake-ups, some of which were disorienting (it was two not four a.m.; the light was on in the bathroom so I thought the sun was up which was odd at two because I couldn’t have slept around the clock, on and on and on). But I feel rested this morning, if a bit dehydrated and hungry–part of the anxiety-free travel plan is to be good to myself and remember to eat and hydrate and give up on FOMO, which always keeps me up until late and then I can’t sleep and it just builds from there.
But these entries–if I manage to make any–will be short, most likely. I am heading downstairs to start conferencing. Talk to you soon!
(Oh! I was able to read about 150 pages of Kelly J. Ford’s The Hunt and it is marvelous.)
…on a flight to Dallas this afternoon. However, in delightful news, I am sharing the Dallas-San Diego legs of the trip in both directions with none other than the Lady H, aka Lady Hermione, aka Carsen Taite. That is always fun. I don’t have enough time changing planes in Dallas on the way out to get Whataburger on the way (I’ll get Shake Shack at New Orleans airport before I leave) but here’s hoping I can get it on the way home, because I know I will be starving by the time I get to Dallas. (I just checked; I have two hours in Dallas on the way back so Whataburger fer shur! The departure flight is at eleven something California time, so I probably won’t eat anything before boarding….unless there’s donuts or something at the San Diego airport, which I am sure there is.) It’s truly sad how excited I can get about food options that I don’t normally have access to, isn’t it?
But I am all packed and ready to head to Metairie for my eye appointment on the way to the airport. It would probably be more accurate to say I overpacked–I really don’t know why every time I go to something like this I have to take so much with me, including books–what if I run out of something to read!?!?!? Um, bitch, you’re going to a convention for mystery readers. There will be free books in my conference book bag. Books will be given away at various times over the weekend. There’s a book room and several book sellers.
But yes, by all means, Greg, weight yourself down bringing coal to Newcastle.
My supervisor and I were looking around yesterday for pictures of our old office on Frenchmen Street for a presentation she is doing at the US Conference on AIDS (she’ll leave the day I return to work), and we couldn’t find any, anywhere. I knew I probably had some in my archive of photographs on the back-up hard drive (which is horribly horribly disorganized), and so I went digging around in those files after I finished packing last night. Oh, the memories–and oh, the fucking receipts! Apparently–not really a surprise to anyone who knows me–I’ve been keeping receipts for decades. Old assholish behavior from people who should know better that I’d completely forgotten about–both the person and the behavior. Also, some people have been assholes for a very long time. Stick with what you’re good at, I guess? But yes, at some point I am going to have to organize those picture files–and there are tons of duplicates.
So.
Many.
Duplicates.
Nevertheless it was a fun way to pass an hour or so while the laundry laundered and the dishes washed in their respective machines. There are so many things I need to be better about–the picture files, for example, could be incredibly useful for inspirations and/or putting me into the mood to write a particular kind of story. I found the photo file of the pictures I used to help me visualize and write Timothy; I did do this for Mississippi River Mischief, but never took the time to look at the photos before diving into writing or trying to get the work done. It probably would have helped some, and therefore I need to remember the value of visual aids for my writing going forward. I am taking stuff with me to edit over coffee, or to muse over and/or think about; I always take my journal with me when I go to panels because people say things I want to remember later, or make me think about something I am working on, sometimes solving a puzzle I’d be trying to untangle. I love being around other writers, I really do. It’s always fun, and I get to hang around smart people and listen to them tell funny stories and laugh and be amazed that I get to know all these amazingly brilliant and smart and witty people and get to call them friends? The teenaged kid in Kansas whose house had a corn field across the street and dreamed big dreams in that bedroom with the ugly beige walls and brown shag carpeting would have slept well and gotten through life a little easier had he known his life would turn out even better than he’d ever dared to dream. I complain a lot. I whine a lot. I get irritated easily and my temper frays and flares a little more lately than I’d prefer, frankly. It’s also so, so easy to go down the dark path to depression and who cares and why bother and all that morose self-pitying nonsense that doesn’t make anything any better but certainly can make everything seem worse. But I do know how incredibly lucky and blessed I am. People also seem to think I’ve led an interesting life. I don’t think so, but it’s also all I know so it just seems normal to me. I get to write books and stories and get them published. People read them, seem to like them, and want me to write more of them. I even get nominated for awards here and there and now and again…quite a lot of times, actually.
And while it may not seem like it most of the time when I’m complaining, I’m pretty happy with my life and how it’s all turned out. I’ve also realized that I’m incredibly lucky and blessed with my writing career. I’ve been nominated for the Anthony Award seven times now–twice for Best Anthology, once for Best Short Story, once for Best Paperback/Ebook Original, twice for Best Children’s/Young Adult, and once for Best Humorous. That’s really not a bad haul, you know. I’ve also been nominated for a Lefty and an Agatha and a Shirley Jackson and a Macavity–not bad for a big old queer writer of queer books, you know? It’s also lovely seeing these mainstream awards starting to slowly recognize queer writers and our books. I also found, you see, a lot of pictures of conferences and signings and readings and book events and conferences from throughout the length of my varied and odd career. It’s been a lovely ride so far, and I really wish I would allow myself the luxury of enjoying myself and enjoying my career.
My goal for this weekend is to have as much fun as possible, hug as many people as I can, and relax and enjoy the ride as a three-time Anthony nominee. That’s pretty amazing, and something that queer teenager back in Kansas couldn’t have dared to dream.
And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. I need to do one more load of dishes before i depart and the kitchen will be thus clean. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and as always I will probably be updating social media with today’s travel shenanigans. Don’t know if or when I will be back here, but will do my best.
Tuesday and tomorrow I depart for San Diego. I am trying very hard not to get anxious about everything, but I am starting to feel it a bit. I have to decide what to pack, and I need to see what the weather is going to be like. I discovered a conflict in my schedule that I have to resolve in a way I don’t want, and there’s groceries to make and mail and prescriptions to pick up and laundry and dishes to finish and yes, I am going to be hopping all day today getting ready and/or thinking about the trip and making plans. I also have a lot of work to do in the office before I leave, because the month changes while I am gone so the things I always do over the month change have to be done–or at least I can get it as ready as I can. I think I answered all the emails I needed to get answered, and I think I can breathe a bit of a sigh of relief.
I ran errands last night on the way home circling a thunderstorm, and then once I was finished I drove directly into its beating heart as it gave us a little respite from the horrific, seemingly endless heat. The big cold drops of rain started splatting down from above like liquid shrapnel. I managed to get inside the house before it really started coming down, and there was thunder and lightning, too. A marvelous New Orleans summer tropical storm, like we haven’t had hardly any of this entire blighted summer of hellish heat. The kind where so much water comes down the streets fill, swirling around catch basins and rising closer to the bottoms of cars, while the potholes and low=lying cracks and buckles in roads and sidewalks immediately fill with clear water. The temperature drops precipitously, given tired air conditioning systems the opportunity to catch up and finally take a well-deserved break after weeks of going at full blast–and sometimes not being able to keep up. The kind where condensation finally appears on your windows for the first time this summer, or so it seems. And even though you know all that water means it’ll be muggy as a rain forest again tomorrow as it evaporates into the heated air once more, you can at least breathe for a moment and enjoy the blessed break from what has become an unfortunate norm this summer.
But in checking my email, I see that today’s severe weather alert is merely coastal flooding, and there’s no extreme heat warning for the day, which is actually kind of nice. Today will be a break, and tomorrow I leave for the coast. My car will be roasting, of course, in the long-term off-airport parking lot, but there are worse things. I’m really looking forward to the trip, pushing down all of my anxiety triggers around traveling, and I will get home Sunday night, have Monday off, and then return to the office on Tuesday. I’m hoping there won’t be an adjustment to time zones involved on this trip, but I am sure it will be. If I wake up at my usual time, it will be four in the morning on the coast. But the day of traveling home will wear me out, plus I’ll be exhausted from being “on” panels and socializing. I just have to get over my intense FOMO and repair to my room to rest and relax periodically; I don’t need to be non-stop on the go, etc. and need to remember I’m an introvert who primarily is used to dealing with people quietly, one on one, and not in group environments. There will be lots of overstimulation.
But I can’t wait to see my queer crime writer friends again! Woo-hoo! They are always a good time.
I was tired when I got home last night from errands and so forth, and the thunderstorm and the damp chill in the air didn’t help matters very much. Paul stayed upstairs watching the US Open–so I have no need to fear Paul’s boredom while I am gone, as he’ll have the tennis to watch. We’re also hoping to get a cat at last once I get back, although my oral surgery is scheduled for that Friday; depending on how I feel, we could possibly get one on Saturday if I don’t still need painkillers and thus have a clear enough mind to drive, which would be super-great. All of my fall plans are currently on hold until I find out when my arm surgery is going to be. I hate that, because I feel like I am wasting time, which brings the anxiety out again. It’s so much fun being me, Constant Reader, you have literally no idea. But therein lies the rub; life really always is a endless string of “hurry up and wait” or “can’t make any plans until I find this out.” The joys of being older.
I think for now at least there’s nothing potentially going to develop that will threaten Louisiana tropically while I am gone–traveling during hurricane season means one more thing to check off the list. I am sorry and worried about those in the path of this Idalia monster that has Florida strictly in its sights. (If I were an evangelical piece of shit, I’d say something like “God is clearly not pleased with deSantis”–but I happily leave that kind of blame-shame to the “christian” cos-players. Funny how it’s usually red states at risk but they don’t see that as God’s punishment, but let something happen to a blue state–or New Orleans–and they start thumping their Bibles again instead of reading them. I’m so glad I’m not an evangelical piece of shit cosplay christian.)
I was hoping to get some writing done last night, but I wound up not doing a whole hell of a lot of anything. I watched some history videos on Youtube, started to watch the latest episode of Foundation–which, truth be told, is extremely well done but difficult to follow because it doesn’t always hold my interest, but I am definitely here for hot Lee Pace–but gave up as the opening credits rolled and went back to Youtube. I did end up watching something but couldn’t tell you what it was to save my life this morning, so clearly it made no impact on me. I did greatly enjoy the recent episode of My Adventures with Superman, which is quickly becoming one of my all-time favorite depictions of Superman and his cast of characters, but I think tonight–after cleaning the downstairs, packing, and cleaning out the refrigerator–I am going to read some more of Kelly Ford’s marvelous The Hunt, which I am enjoying; I do not want anyone to get the idea that I am not enjoying the book–it’s just that the heat and my mind being sort of fried has made it really hard for me to focus on reading something longform. I also finished reading the proofs for Mississippi River Mischief, which I’ll be bring with me to try to get some progress made on the proofing; if I manage to do that and nothing else while in San Diego I will be very pleased.
And on that note I think I will head into the spice mines for the day. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and tomorrow I will be writing to you before I leave for the coast. Huzzah!
Monday morning of Bouchercon week and so much to do before I leave on Wednesday it’s not even the least bit amusing. I somehow managed to get very little done over the weekend–I did get some things done, I always do–but I’ve really got to stop taking the weekends off and do some work other than chores. I did manage to get a shit load of books pruned off the shelves, with even more work to be done on those once I get back (and I am going to try to resist buying any books while I’m in San Diego as well).
I did make it to Costco yesterday to get fitted for my hearing aids, which I will be picking up when I get back from San Diego. When I had them in, the difference was so amazing I couldn’t believe it. The hearing tech stood in the doorway to the room with the door open to the main floor, and she spoke to me–in a soft voice–and I could hear her every word clearly and concisely, and the noise from the store didn’t muffle or down her out at all. She even said, “I can tell you can hear better because you’re speaking more softly than you did without them in–so you were even having trouble hearing yourself speak.” I came home from that, making groceries at the Carrollton Rouse’s (and just let me say, getting to the I-10 on-ramp from Carrollton heading uptown might possibly be the worst interchange/on-ramp I’ve ever experienced in my life–seriously, who the fuck designed our highway system through the city of New Orleans?) and collapsing into the cool of the apartment after being out in the “feels like 114” for far too long. I also paid for said hearing aids, which was significantly cheaper than getting them from the doctor’s office (at least almost fifty percent cheaper; always get your hearing aids at Costco, people, otherwise you’re being robbed). I need to make a packing list and perhaps start packing for the trip tonight. I have an eye appointment on my way to the airport on Wednesday morning, and when I get back from the trip I can get my hearing aids, and then that following Friday I have my dental surgery.
I also watched the latest episode of My Adventures with Superman, which is amazing, quite frankly, and then we watched The Flash, which debuted this weekend on streaming. I know we’re aren’t supposed to watch the movie because it’s star, Ezra Miller, has become extremely problematic in their (I believe they identify as non-binary and use they/them) personal life, with some arrests for deeply troubling crimes; I know there was a big push to cancel both him and the film before its release, and yes, the accusations are troubling. But…I already pay for the streaming service; I didn’t spend anything additional to watch, and yes, I gave them a view to count…and more the shame, really. It’s actually one of the better DC movies, far better than expected, and the plot was actually clever and easily understood and made sense. Miller, whose casting I questioned originally, is really good as Barry Allen. Barry Allen/The Flash has always been one of my favorite DC characters, plus it was superfun to see Michael Keaton put on the cape and cowl again as Batman. Warner Brothers has made some troubling decisions about their DC movies over the past couple of years due to the most recent conglomerate merger–cancelling the Batwoman movie and just shelving it, among others–so they put all their eggs into the basket of The Flash being big box office, and held onto that plan even after Miller’s behavior became an issue. I enjoyed the film, but cannot recommend anyone else watch it, either. I felt guilty even watching it, thinking about Miller’s victims, so all I kept thinking during the movie wasn’t just this is good but what a shame this is good. There will inevitably be a documentary and/or true crime book about Miller’s conduct and how it damaged this film and the studio–but I do think, by releasing the film, Warner Brothers sent a very dangerous message about what they will and won’t tolerate from a star they’ve put a major investment into…and I wouldn’t be surprised if the studio didn’t use money and leverage to get Miller the slap on the wrist he got.
It’s very old-school Hollywood, isn’t it?
It’s really a shame, too. I love Barry Allen, I love the Flash, and Miller is great in the role. But with them rebooting the DCUniverse and recasting everyone, it’s a done deal anyway. I hope Miller gets the help they need, and don’t hurt anyone else.
I am also really looking forward to The Blue Beetle. I’m hearing great things about it, and I am very excited to see a Latino/Hispanic cast.
Bouchercon looms, and I am leaving Wednesday. I have an eye appointment on my way to the airport–the kind of thing I would have never done in the past because of the anxiety (what if something happens? What if I get delayed there? On and on and on), so I think I am making progress now that I’ve been able to identify what the problem is. I have to make a packing list of what to take, need to be realistic about what I will and won’t be able to work on and/or get done while I am gone (nothing; I’ll be lucky to blog at all whilst I am there, let alone stay on top of emails). I did do a little writing yesterday on my story “Temple of the Soothsayer,” which I am leaving in Central America for this draft and I’ll see how offensive it turns out, all the while watching for Mayan/indigenous peoples tropes, stereotypes, and cliches. If it doesn’t work without any of that, I’ll move it to the Aegean–the Pythia makes more sense than inventing a Mayan priestess/legend, given how little I (or anyone, really) knows about Mayan mythology. But…jaguars. I’d have to give up on jaguars if I move it to the Aegean.
And I love me some cats.
And on that note I am heading into the spice mines. I have a lot to do before I leave Wednesday, very little time in which to do it, and I am going to need to really get organized over these next two days. Wish me luck as I head into the spice mines!
Work at home Friday, after I run some errands and take care of some things this morning. I have to go to the OMV to get a real ID (driver’s license expires Sunday), and since I am going over there, I am going to swing by the West Bank Petco to look at kitties (the SPCA has some they’ve farmed out to Petcos). That’s an exciting morning, isn’t it? I am taking Kelly J. Ford’s The Hunt with me, so I won’t be bored and since I have to sit around and wait, I might as well read. It’s been bothering me lately that my attention span just hasn’t been there for novels since the heat wave broke me several weeks ago–which is when I switched over to short stories in the Alfred Hitchcock Presents anthologies–and I’d like to get this book read before I leave for Bouchercon, primarily so I can hopelessly fanboy over her all weekend (I’ll also be fanboying over Margot Douaihy all weekend, too, among many others as I always do at Bouchercon). I’ve already picked out my books to take with me on the trip (the latest S. A. Cosby, Alison Gaylin, and Laura Lippman will be going to San Diego with me, with Donna Andrews batting clean up), and also already know I will probably get no writing done while I am there. I don’t really have anything due–there will be page proofs for Mississippi River Mischief to go over at some point–but everything else is up in the air for now.
I did manage to get the edits taken care of on Mississippi River Mischief and turned it in last night, so other than the afore-mentioned page proofing, it’s effectively finished. Since the other book–I’ll post about it this weekend, no worries–is also finished and now out of my hair, I have nothing pressing at the moment. Woo-hoo! I also picked up the mail and stopped at Fresh Market to lay in supplies for a weekend of not getting into the car at all. I wrote for a while, and came to a realization about this short story I could never get to work that I’ve been revising, so I am going to go into author mode and talk about writing, so bear with me.
This particular story, “Whim of the Wind.” was the story I wrote when I took creative writing again after switching universities after my first horrendous creative writing experience (if I haven’t said it enough, the professor told me I’d never be a published writer). This story was beloved by my class and my professor, who told me I should submit it to literary magazines. I did a few times, it was always rejected, and there was a slight flaw in the story–but no one who read it could ever give me any insight into how to fix the story. It was also my first Alabama story, my first visit to my fictional Corinth county, and so it’s always kind of been precious to me. I never could figure out how to revise it or what to do with it…but as I’ve been revising it (it’s now twice as long as it was, and I’ve not finished), it’s been changing some. I think what everyone was responding to was the voice–I’ve used it again since, and people always respond to that aspect–and really, as long as the voice is intact and preserved, that’s all that really matters. I also realized last night something else–I was having to change the climactic scene in the story, and as such had to come up with a different Civil War legend to build it around–and I realized this story, along with two other, had been written using the same trope, that I have since learned was apocryphal–the evil Yankee deserter. I wrote this story using it, I wrote “Ruins” using it, and I wrote another, “Lilacs in the Rain,” also using it (that story has morphed into a novella renamed “The Scent of Lilacs in the Rain”); so yes, I wrote three short stories based on the same, apocryphal, Civil War urban (rural?) legend. Bury Me in Shadows evolved out of “Ruins,” and I blew up the trope in that book; that was the “Yankee deserter” story I was meant to write. So, the other two need different legends, and I found a good one for “Whim of the Wind”–but again, a delicate subject I’ll need to be very careful with–and now maybe I can make “The Scent of Lilacs in the Rain” actually work, now that I know what I need to do with it. I am also having a lot of fun looking into Alabama history and finding these great legends and stories and folk tales that I should be able to find something to use.
I slept really well last night, and feel pretty good this morning. Don’t feel so great about having to go to the West Bank, but that’s okay; it’s a routine change I can live with, and I can actually do my weekend grocery shopping over there as well–and I can get Five Guys to bring home for lunch. I think after that I will have laid in enough supplies to not have to leave the house for the rest of the weekend–I may go get the mail tomorrow–and I want to clean, organize, read, and write all weekend. Paul got home late last night (another grant) so we didn’t get a chance to watch anything last night–he walked in while I was watching a Youtube documentary about the usurpation of the English throne by the House of Lancaster that set the dangerous precedent (for kings) that incompetent ones could be overthrown and replaced…and eventually led to the Wars of the Roses. I also was watching some videos–someone did a series of the greatest plays in LSU football history, which was very fun to watch and relive (I really should do an in-depth post about my love of LSU football; not that everyone who’s paying attention doesn’t already know about it, of course, but I love football and it’s fun for me to write/talk about it. I also find the fandom interesting, too.)..and they were grouped by stretches of time, eras, if you will (2007 season got its own video)–and also guided by the scarcity of available digitized video from the far distant past. (I was also thinking “don’t the networks that originally aired the games have tape? Can’t it be digitally remastered? I know the SEC Network has done this with some classic games from the past; it’s a project the NCAA should back fully, as it’s the history of the sport.) It’s very fun to revisit past games and my memories–LSU is never boring to watch, ever–and I am very excited about the upcoming season, both for LSU and the Saints. I worry that everyone is over-hyping LSU (something I always worry about) but given the over-performance from last year, it’s kind of understandable, really. LSU came out of nowhere to win ten games, beat Alabama, and beat both Florida and Auburn on the road in the same season for the first time in program history. So, yeah, understandable. I was thinking before last season that it was going to have to be a wash–new coach, rebuilding after two down years, etc.–and that this year would be the one where the Tigers would make a run. I am excited for our new quarterback for the Saints, too–he, like me, also went to Fresno State, so I have even more reason to root for him and like him–and they seem to be doing well in the preseason. GEAUX SAINTS!
I did work on the revision of “Whim of the Wind” yesterday–it’s amazing to me that I’ve taken a story that barely over two thousand words and added another almost three thousand to it, and it still isn’t done–but I am feeling good about the story, now that I’ve recognized my attachment to it that actually was hindering me from revising it. It’ll always exist in that original version, after all, and nothing I do to it in current or future versions are ruining that precious first version that meant so much to me as an aspiring writer. Sentimentality–the very thing I am always trying to guard against when it comes to almost everything in my life–got the best of me with this story. The other story I turned it at the same time, which I’ve also never been able to correct, perhaps now I can fix it, too. I had thought about expanding the other one (which is actually incredibly problematic on many levels by modern standards) into a novel, and perhaps I still will; I’ve started slowly world-building around the panhandle of Florida the same way I have with Corinth County in Alabama, but there’s no crime or mystery or supernatural thing going on in that story; so it would be a coming-of-age romance….but I may know a way (that just came to me) and there were some other ideas about it, too. You never know, right? Why not riff for a while and see what comes up?
I’m kind of getting excited about writing again, can you tell?
And on that note, I should start getting ready for the OMV and get that hellish experience over with once and for all. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader and you never know–I may be back later.
And here we are on yet another Pay-the-Bills Wednesday. Paul is leaving today, and won’t be back until a week from Saturday. I also don’t have Scooter for cuddles and company. Will I go mad living under conditions of absolute reality? Even larks and katydids are believed by some to dream.
Yesterday was a much better day than I’ve had in quite some time, all things considered. I slept incredibly well, so didn’t start off my day either sleepy or groggy or tired, which is always a plus. The work day was relatively low-key; we were slow in the morning but busy in the afternoon, and frankly, I prefer it that way; busy in the morning inevitably means tired in the afternoon, and if we’re so it’s agony. But over all, a good day at the office and an auspicious beginning to the month of August. (I also didn’t note that it was the anniversary of both of our moves to New Orleans; first in 1996, then again on August 1 2001 when we moved back home from That Horrible Year Away.)
I ran errands on my way home–mail, prescriptions, groceries–and then came home to a sink full of dirty dishes which needed attention, so I took care of that as well as another load of laundry, and then sat my ample buttocks into my desk chair and banged out the revision of Chapter 3 I’d been stuck on for a little less than a week (not so much stuck as tired and didn’t want to bother with it, in brutal honesty) and got it finished and under control before moving onto Chapter Four. I also worked on “Whim of the Wind” for a little while, and also did some more research into the history of the city I am fictionalizing for the WIP, which I continue to fail to discuss. Perhaps this weekend? Perhaps. I kind of want to see if I can get past Chapter 4 before I talk about the book publicly, but that’s nothing more than my own superstitions, which is pretty stupid. As a general rule I don’t believe in things like jinxes and curses and so forth, but I do believe you can actually speak things into existence sometimes. The only takeaway I got from Psych 101 in college was the concept of visualization; that picturing something in your mind can make it happen–but not like winning the powerball or anything like that, but more along the lines of why you always spill something full when you’re carrying it no matter how careful you are…because your mind cannot picture a negative–you can’t see yourself not spilling it; so when you think about not spilling it, you will because you see yourself in your mind actually spilling it. (It’s like how you cannot prove a negative–you can rarely prove you aren’t something; but it is incredibly easy to prove you are. I use this example: someone drinks a lot. They don’t think they have a problem, they don’t wake up in the morning feeling like death warmed over twice and wanting another drink. But once someone says, “You have a drinking problem”, you can’t prove that you don’t. You can say you aren’t, but that’s denial. You can stop drinking for a time period—but if you start drinking again, well, there, you see, you were in recovery and then relapsed! You cannot win, so why bother trying?) It is much harder to prove something isn’t true than it is proving something is. Guilt is the same way–how do you convince the cops, who are convinced you are, that you aren’t?
I will say this about the WIP–it’s more hardboiled and noir than what I usually write, I am having a lot of fun with it, and it’s been a long time since I wrote anything set in Florida, if I ever have? Dark Tide started as a Florida panhandle novel, but I moved it to the Alabama coast; “Cold Beer No Flies” was a panhandle story, too. But this is me fictionalizing Tampa–come to think of it, my main character in The Orion Mask lived in a fictional Tampa I am using again for this one–and I’ve not set foot in Tampa, other than flying in and out for Bouchercon in St. Petersburg, since I moved away in December 1995 to once again reboot and restart my life.
I was tired after all my errands yesterday–the thermostat in my car let me know it was 101 when I left the office yesterday; it is insane for it to be that hot, even in New Orleans. It’s exhausting dealing with this insane summer heat this year. But I did get some writing done yesterday, which was a good thing, and of course Paul finished packing. Heavy heaving sigh. Ah, well, I have Superman and Lois to catch up on, and My Adventures with Superman, and so many old classic films to watch, so I shouldn’t have any trouble keeping myself entertained so I don’t feel lonely or bored. And of course I could be writing, which is always difficult in August…I also think about how about eighteen years ago I was finishing (finally) Mardi Gras Mambo at long last in that last, fateful August before Katrina. It really was a completely different world all those years ago; maybe I ‘ll go back and read those old Livejournal entries from August of 2005, so I can remember the world before once again. I also have a lot of reading to get caught up on, as well. I have some errands to run this evening on the way home from work, and then I am going to be inside for the night. We did watch another episode of Gotham Knights last night–very intense, as the season finale moves closer–but now I have to wait for Paul to come home to finish. Heavy heaving sigh.
But perhaps I’ll use all this solitude productively. One never knows, and on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.
Tuesday and we made it through Monday. I didn’t sleep great for some reason on Sunday night–restless and kept waking up–so I was dragging yesterday, as could be expected. I wasn’t mentally tired, but physically? Yeah, not great. I was also hungry all morning despite having had cereal, a banana, and peanut butter toast. Go figure. Then again, I also ate earlier than usual on Sunday, so that could have had a lot to do with the hunger issue. I am glad that I have finally identified that feeling as hunger, though. It’s very rare when I experience it, so am very glad to know what it actually is for those moments when I do have that dull empty stomach ache. The irony that I didn’t think it was hunger because hunger pains usually went away after a moment or two, so I thought it was something else. I guess my body has changed yet again.
I did start revising the first four chapters of the next book I am going to write. It was a bit slow going, primarily because I don’t think I’ve got the voice completely down again–I decided that it was silly not to reread the chapters again before working on the rewrite; that could be why it was slow going and hard for me to slip back into my character’s voice again. There’s a cynical, world-weariness to him that you’d think would be super easy for me to slip into again, but the difficulty with the revision stuff made me realize I don’t really know much about my character and his history/back story either, so I need to work on that a bit more before I can really dig into the story the way I really want to, so that’s something, right? But I took a break from it, folded clothes and washed dishes, and then came back to it and slid right into his head and his voice, knowing exactly where I was and who I was writing about and what was going on. It felt good, and while I only did about 800 words or so today in total gain (there was also subtraction going on), it felt really good and it also put me into a good mood. I do love writing–at least this part of it, before I’ve cursed myself out for not seeing this plot hole or for forgetting this subplot and never resolving it, when I am stuck in the middle and it feels like everything I am writing is just filler; you know, the emotional rollercoaster of a journey I undertake with every new book I write.
Yeah, this is the part I like.
We also watched the new episode of Last Call, which is a book I still need to read. It’s such an eerie and creepy story–one which American Horror Story: NYC essentially “ripped from the headlines” for a significant portion of its plot–but I mused about how I hadn’t heard anything about this case, despite being gay and out at the time. I was living in Tampa, and reading the local queer paper and I also used to subscribe to both Out and The Advocate because once I was out I was all about being gay in every aspect of my life, and what better way to learn about being gay than reading, which is what I always did? But I never read anything about these murders that I recall. I am definitely going to have to read this book, and there are a few other gay books I want to read this summer–but there are sooooo many great new crime novels dropping by amazing authors too! Bouchercon is also looming on the horizon. I am getting invited to meals and meetings, and of course there are my panels. I don’t know who all is going because it always seemed so far away that there was plenty of time to check in with everyone, but it’s like getting closer and closer by the day.
The lackadaisical almost malaise I’ve been staggering under for quite some time now seems to have lifted, or at least for a temporary lull, at any rate. This year hasn’t been an easy one, and neither was the last. Everyone seems to be struggling with more things than usual these days, so I am not really comfortable complaining or whining or even just commenting on what a shitty period the last few years have been. I’m glad Mom is no longer suffering or struggling, but I hate that the side effect of that is Dad’s unhappiness. I’m glad Scooter left us pretty quickly and painlessly with a minimum of suffering–when I got home from the office yesterday Paul had picked up his cremated remains, so had a moment of deep sadness and misery when I got home from work yesterday. It was nice to share the sadness, though, with Paul; I try not to be sad in front of him because I think it makes him feel worse–also because it’s even harder for me to see him sad, but we should share our griefs and burdens more because it does help not to do it alone. As I mentioned, it felt good to start digging into the new book last night, even if it was just revising and strengthening what was already there. I haven’t started reading the new Kelly Ford, but will probably do that today. I actually was sitting in my easy chair feeling sad last night and missing Scooter, when I snapped myself out of it and got up off my ass and did some things. I made myself write, and when I got stuck, instead of giving up I did some chores to shake things loose in my head and wrote some more. I slept better last night than I did the night before–still woke up a few times, but still was a much less restless night than Sunday night was–and am feeling pretty rested, if not completely awake, this morning, which is also nice. I am hoping to make it through the week without getting run down and/or exhausted. I got two books yesterday–the new Eryk Pruitt, Something Bad Wrong, and a reprint of a Scholastic Book Club mystery I really enjoyed as a kid, The Mystery of the Pirate’s Ghost by Elizabeth Honess, which should be fun revisiting. I am still considering writing middle grade mysteries, and so I am trying to reread some of my favorites as well as some of the more modern offerings.
And on that note, I think I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow.
Back to the office for me today, with tomorrow yet again a work-at-home day for one Gregalicious. Yesterday was an interesting one. It’s always strange disrupting your usual work week with a day off, but I slept super great Tuesday night and woke up feeling incredibly well-rested and on top of things. I did a load of dishes and a load of laundry, cleaned the kitchen, did some filing, and had a highly productive chore morning. I went to my doctor’s appointment (more on that later), and ran some errands before getting out of the blistering temperature of another heat advisory into the delightful cool of the Lost Apartment. The doctor visit was okay; we’ve (he’s) come to the conclusion that the issue with my left arm is most likely a torn bicep tendon, which will need surgery to mend. Hurray. Which means since our corporate insurer is dropping us after December 31 and there’s been no word about what’s going to go down with that, I need to have this done before the end of the year. Huzzah even more. So far, that’s dental surgery in September and now arm surgery before the end of the year. But…since the corporate insurance scum company is dropping us, I’m happy to force them to spend more money on us.
Insurance, the biggest scam ever perpetrated on the American people. Every kind and every type: an utter joke and scam to make shareholders profits.
But I am glad it’s going to be looked at and potentially repaired; this staying out of the gym has been horrendous and I hate that I am getting so out of the fit condition I prefer to usually be in. At least we’re saving money on the gym membership; we put mine on pause after I originally injured it. I tried talking Paul into a SPCA run to look at kitties this weekend, as I do not like living in a kitty-free home, but he is going to visit his mom soon and wants to wait until he gets back. I get that–not wanting to go away right after getting a pet–but it also means I won’t have a cat to keep me company while he’s gone. Heavy heaving sigh. But I can also consider our new kitty, when we get him, as a birthday gift. (And I will keep working on him, of that you can be sure.)
I read deeper into Megan Abbott’s brilliant Beware the Woman yesterday, around appointments, errands and chores, and it is deliciously marvelous. As always, reading Megan inspires me to write better myself–the truly great writers always are an inspiration, even as their talent awes me it also inspires–and it gave me some ideas, too, as the best writers always do. I am looking forward to finishing the book this weekend, after which I will move on to S. A. Cosby’s All the Sinners Bleed. I’ll get my grubby paws on a copy of the new Laura Lippman soon enough, and let me tell you, I’ve got some amazing reading ahead of me for the rest of the summer; Eli Cranor, Jordan Harper, Alison Gaylin, Wendy Corsi Staub, and the new Silvia Moreno-Garcia novel, Silver Nitrate, just arrived the other day as well.
I also was asked to moderate a panel at Bouchercon on Saturday afternoon; which brings my panel total to four (the other three are nominee panels, and since I have THREE nominations that means THREE panels; my queer crime writer friends are always telling me I need to shout that from the rooftops, so I am trying to be a little less self-deprecating and trying to take more pride in my accomplishments, and let’s face it, it’s pretty impressive and cool to have those three Anthony nominations. I think S. A. Cosby and I are the only people to be nominated three times in the same year; pretty heady company to be in, quite frankly.) That means I’ll have to prepare and I no longer have Saturday as a free day; but that’s okay. I can sleep in, grab some coffee, and make notes that morning before the panel. That Saturday is going to be one of those days where I’ll have to remember to eat, so I should probably make lunch plans with someone.
I slept well again last night, so deeply I didn’t want to get up this morning, but it’s my last day in the office for the week and I think I’ll survive somehow. I got my errands done yesterday, and didn’t get as much done around the house as I would have liked. I really need to make a project out of the kitchen drawers and cabinets. But it was miserably hot out there and I did get everything done outside the house that needed doing, and now this weekend I may need to make a single grocery/mail run while dropping books off at the library sale; there are at least two, if not three, that are ready to go. I may even get another box down from the attic to go through for book purging. We also watched more of The Crowded Room last night, and if Tom Holland isn’t at least nominated for an Emmy for this, the Emmys will be an utter and complete joke.
And on that note, it’s time for me to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader and I may be back later.
Wednesday and we’ve made it halfway through the week, Constant Reader. Didn’t think it was quite possible, did you, when Monday dawned so early and ugly? We expecting thunderstorms today in New Orleans–it feels cooler and damp this morning, but I don’t know when we are supposed to have said storms; probably this afternoon. I slept really well again last night–it’s been lovely getting good sleep lately. I felt a bit tired yesterday when I got home from work, and so took it a little easier on myself when I got home. I managed to get caught up on my emails (such a weird feeling) and did some writing last night. I think I’m still a bit in the post-book malaise phase of things, so writing anything isn’t easy (not that it ever is) but Paul got home late so was left to my own devices once I finished writing for the evening. I did watch some documentaries on Youtube about the Hapsburgs last night (I also discovered an English-language biography about her–Margaret of Austria–which I added to the my list of books to buy…which is almost as out of control as my TBR stack, which is now essentially the entire living room), and I read a short story in Hitchcock’s My Favorites in Suspense anthology; a dark little Charlotte Armstrong story called “The Enemy.” Armstrong was a writer I discovered as a tween, when Mom let me join the Mystery Guild Book Club; I got an omnibus by her (The Witch’s House, Mischief, The Dream Walker) which I greatly enjoyed. I rediscovered Armstrong thanks to the work of both Sarah Weinman and Jeffrey Marks, which enabled me to continue reading in her canon.
Armstrong won an Edgar for Best Novel for A Dram of Poison, a charming if dark little story of suspense; maybe the rare Edgar winner where there’s no dead body but the plot has to do with preventing an accidental death? It’s very clever, and incredibly charming, but beneath that clever charming surface it says something dark and awful about human nature and character–people who are unhappy spreading their misery to others. Armstrong was also made a Grand Master by Mystery Writers of America. Her work may seem a bit dated in the modern day–technology and society have moved on from the times she lived and wrote in–but I think it’s well worth the read. “The Enemy” is that same style of writing as Dram, a serious subject presented charmingly, and the death of a child’s dog the catalyst for an exposé of something darker and nastier…and yes, the plot also hinges on the darkness a human being is capable of creating. It’s a really clever, if slightly dated, story–and you can’t help but smile or laugh at the last line of the story. I am really enjoying these time capsules into the past, to tell you the truth. I bought a few more of these anthologies on eBay yesterday, too. It’s nice to have short story collections around for those times when my brain can’t really focus on reading an entire novel.
I have been listening to Carol Goodman’s The Drowning Tree on Audible, but I may have to break down and finish actually reading a physical copy because I can’t keep listening every day and with my memory a literal thing of the past these days, I’m not sure I remember enough of the story to pick it up again this weekend. I also picked up copies of her new novel, The Bones of the Story, along with Paul Tremblay’s new short story collection, The Beast You Are. I do like Tremblay’s writing–A Head Full of Ghosts was one of the best horror novels of the last decade, and I’ve liked everything else of his that I’ve read–and I think this may even be his second collection. I am also hoping to pull together another collection myself this year–This Town and Other Macabre Stories–but I am not sure if I will have the time. I also got the copy edits for a short story I contributed to an anthology in my inbox last night, so that has to go onto the to-do list, and I still have page proofs to get through. But for the most part, it seems as though I have a guilt-free free weekend, which one can never truly go wrong with, either. I’ll have some errands to run, of course–I always have errands to run–but there’s no stress or pressure on me either, which is kind of nice. I think maybe that’s the reason I’ve been sleeping so well this week? No pressure and my schedule has kind of normalized, gotten back to normal, settled back into the routine my body is used to, perhaps?
Yes, that makes total sense to me.
I also have ideas and thoughts pinging around in my head. I’m itching to get back to the works I have in progress; I want to get a strong first draft of two different novels finished before I leave for Bouchercon next (!!!) month. I actually, finally, made a to-do list yesterday; I am hoping that I can get my life back on track the way it was before the pandemic and the madness of the last few years. That doesn’t mean that my blood pressure won’t continue to go up predicated on the constant assaults on everyone who’s not a cisgender straight man from the demons on the right–which is part of the reason my interest in the Civil War and the 1850’s, that terrible lead-up to the split, has been heightened these last few months. I do see a lot of similarities in the split between conservative v. progressive today, which was predicated along the lines of abolitionist/pro-human trafficking back then. One of the books my father gave me to read was called Southerners in Blue, which was a novelization of the true story (albeit poorly written) of a Union sympathizer and others like him in Winston County, Alabama. (If you’re not familiar with Winston County, the easiest way to explain it is this county did not vote for secession and essentially stated that if Alabama had the right to secede from the Union, the county had the right to secede from Alabama. They did not secede from Alabama, just said they had the right to predicated on the secession arguments being presented, but have gone down in Alabama history and lore as having actually seceded even though they most certainly did not) Basically, in some of the northern counties of Alabama there was basically a second civil war, between the “secesh” and the “Unionist” supporters, and the mountains of north Alabama were filled with deserters from the Confederate Army, This was also novelized into a book called Tories of the Hills by Wesley Sylvester Thompson, which is incredibly rare (my uncle has a copy, which my aunt won’t let be removed from her house–wise, as I would totally steal it). I had read another book also while I was up there, about the Kansas-Missouri border war–which had a decided “secesh” slant to it, of course, while complaining that all previous histories were “unsympathetic to the Missouri slave-owner point of view”. I’m sure he had a point, but simply because there are two sides to every story doesn’t mean each side deserves to be heard, or that each side’s opinion has equal weight. It did spark my interest, though, and I really think there’s a book in this little-known history of north Alabama. Again, it would be difficult to write–lots of potential landmines there–but it’s also, as I said, not very well known and with today’s tribalism mentality–not to mention how loud the Lost Cause fanatics are–it’s hard to wrap one’s mind around the notion that the South wasn’t monolithic in its thinking.
Because no group of people are, really, which is why I don’t like being asked for a gay perspective on anything; I can only speak for myself.
But while I continue to research this aspect of history and try to figure out a way to get a novel out of it, I am going to map out two others. One is already in progress, and the other is a New Orleans ghost story I’ve been wanting to write for quite some time now. The trick is to make it different from every other ghost story I’ve already written. Good luck with that, Mr. Repetitive!
Heavy heaving sigh.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.
Well, yesterday’s appointment went well. I was home by ten thirty, which was nice, and I have scheduled the first appointment for what I need to be done. I was also right yesterday; I am going to tell you today what is going on. The appointment was with a dentist, and yesterday’s appointment was the first step in the journey to getting my bottom teeth taken care of. I will be going in on the Friday after Bouchercon to get the rest of the bottom teeth removed, the first step in a four appointment process to get a denture plate for the bottom. I am also getting a replacement for the top; they are fifteen years old. I’d hoped to have this done before Bouchercon, but given the length of the process, there wasn’t enough time. So, good news for fans of me looking like a hillbilly from the holler: I will still be missing my front two bottom teeth, which means smiling for pictures with my mouth closed (always fun) and being embarrassed when I remember to be. But this was one of the things I wanted to get taken care of this year–hearing aids being another–and I feel like I am finally adulting properly, if that makes any sense. So, hopefully by the end of the year I will have a new smile and be able to actually hear things. I’m just glad I finally found a dentist who agreed that this was the right step, rather than trying to sell me on upwards of twenty grand’s worth of implants, grafts, caps, bridges and fillings. I mean, there has been no point in my life where I would ever willingly agree to spend that much money on my mouth, let alone had that kind of money to be willing to spend.
Definitely an improvement; you could also call it an upgrade, I suppose. Thank you, health insurance (even though you aren’t covering much more than fifty percent of any of this).
And even more marvelously, after I got home from the dentist and did some chores, I sat down and revised the last two chapters of Mississippi River Mischief and wrote an epilogue. It’s done, until I get the edits back from my editor, and I am very happy. I finished two days earlier than it was due, as well, which made me feel good for beating a deadline for a change. I still have to get some edits and revisions finished on this other book I’ve been toiling over, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. I do need to reread the damned thing before I start trying to fix things, but I’m going to take a couple of well deserved days off from writing and enjoy this two-day turned in early respite from everything. I’m a bit groggy today. I didn’t sleep great Monday night and as such wasn’t really able to get caught up on my sleep last night. I slept well, but not completely awake yet this morning. I am really dependent on my coffee every morning…which is probably not a good thing.
But it feels good to have a good revision done of the book, one that I feel more confident about, at any rate. Maybe that helped me sleep last night, I don’t know. Since my memory is shot, I don’t remember if this is how I feel every time I turn a book in for editing; I would think I would remember this feeling of an enormous weight being lifted off my shoulders? I don’t know, but lately whenever I finish a book I feel like I’ve just run an emotional and intellectual marathon and I’m not only exhausted but also very relieved. I am looking forward to finishing edits on this other one, too, and then being able to dig into something new (well, already in progress but finally able to focus all my attention on them) and will also probably be a little bit disoriented for a couple of days. I cannot, absolutely cannot, allow myself to fall into a malaise like I always do when a book is finished and off my plate because there’s another one I need to finish and get off my plate.
AUGH.
And on that note, I’m heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday!
Queer and Loathing in America 