Tag: Noir at the Bar

Heard It In A Love Song

Can’t be wrong.

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I am exhausted again. Yesterday morning I was still a bit on the foggy side mentally, and kind of planned to just hang out all day until it was time to meet people at Lilette for dinner at seven. I settled in with my manuscript, turned the television onto college football, and got started. I had completely forgotten I’d agreed to meet folks for a drink in the afternoon. Once I got the reminder text, I leapt into action and got cleaned up, summoning a Lyft. I wound up also going to the Queer Crime Writers’ cocktail hour at the Ritz Carlton bar, and from there it was on to Lilette for dinner, which was amazing and a lot of fun. I am exhausted again this morning, but it’s not as bad as it was on Friday (thank God) despite getting home late and kind of overdoing it again. But again, I can just retire to my easy chair with the manuscript and my red pen and post-it notes so I can get moving on this damned thing.

LSU won in what was apparently a very sloppy game for the offense, only beating Louisiana Tech 23-7, or something like that. I’m not really sure about the games yesterday and how they all turned out, so I am probably going to have to watch a video about them this morning before I get to work on the manuscript. I also saw that Florida, LSU’s next opponent, lost to USF at home, which is not a good look for them or their hot-seated coach. So, will Florida be fired up to take that loss out on LSU, or will LSU clean up its act and bury Florida? It’s almost always a great game, regardless–rarely does one team blow the other out, no matter what their rankings or records.

There are some great games next weekend, though, so that will be a lot of fun.

I may do some chores later after I’ve read for a bit. This aching-joint thing is not fun, just so you know. In fact, I think I’m going to go rest for a moment before I finish writing this.

Okay, I am back. I am still very fatigued and foggy, but I sat for a while in my chair and watched some news and college football scores, and feel a bit better and more clear headed. My stomach is being a bit weird, but I am also due for my first injection tomorrow so maybe this isn’t the start of a relapse (the fatigue was worrying, despite what my doctor said), which was a relief.

After I do finish and post this, I am going to get a bit cleaned up and dive back into the reading with the USOpen men’s final on in the background–like it is now. I like both players (although I think Carlos Alcaraz is cuter), so just want to listen (and occasionally look up to see) great tennis.

I would also like to shout out to those who won Anthony Awards last night, and especially Curtis Ippolito (Best Short Story), K. T. Nguyen (Best First), Rob Osler (Best Humorous), and all the others I can’t think of right now. I met Ms. Nguyen at Noir at the Bar, and she’s delightful (as was her reading), and of course Curtis and Rob are friends–and Rob is a queer writer of queer mysteries, so huzzah for this groundbreaking win! MORE QUEER WINNERS, please!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the rest of the day. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow.

I Need a Lover

Friday and yet another work-from-home day blog. I have a department meeting this morning, and a team meeting–all before a doctor’s appointment this morning. I was thinking about attending the Crooked Lane party tonight at Bouchercon, but we’re going to see how I feel later on…whether I do want to go down there or not. Scrolling through my Facebook feed did not give me FOMO yesterday or the day before at all, either.

I am exhausted this morning. I had dinner and wonderful conversation with a friend before Noir at the Bar, and we had an enormous crowd–so much so that I kind of got overwhelmed and nervous when we got started. After that, I had a weird Lyft experience, in which my ride got canceled while I was in the car, and had to get out and start over again. This happened right in front of the conference hotel, so I thought, what the hell and went into the bar to hang out with my Queer Crime Writers gang. I also ran into some other people I really like (and Bryon Quertermous), which was also kind of nice. But that second wind didn’t last very long, and then I summoned another ride and headed home, exhausted, and didn’t get to bed until almost one–waaaaaay past my bedtime. I was surprised I lasted that long, honestly, but this morning I am exhausted, my hips and ankles ache, and while my brain is alert, my body is most definitely not. I was planning on going to the Crooked Lane party this evening, and possibly the Underrepresented Writers event, but it will absolutely depend on how I feel. I am not going to exhaust myself, and risk another relapse.

So, I have some things to get done today for work and I have a follow-up appointment with my primary care doctor. Nothing to worry about, it’s just the half-year annual check-up, and of course, discussing how I’m doing since the hospital stay. Outside of the fatigue and running out of energy so regularly, I am doing quite well. My gastro system hasn’t been an issue since I checked out of the hospital, and Monday is when I am getting my first injection (and learning how to do it myself). I don’t know how that is going to effect me, either; but I don’t think it will take me a full week to recover from them since they aren’t as intense as the infusions were.

The coffee is starting to kick in, but my legs are still tired and achy. But it’s an improvement, and huzzah for that! Hopefully being able to sleep in tomorrow (as late as Sparky will let me) will knock the fatigue out and put it to rest for awhile. Ha, I spoke too soon. As I got up to get more coffee just now, my legs had stiffened up! The joys of getting older, I guess. Heavy heaving sigh. But the weather has been exceptionally nice for Bouchercon; almost like Mother Nature is making up for the one Hurricane Ida (bitch) canceled in 2022.

And on that note, I should probably head into the spice mines and start working. Have a lovely and marvelous Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning.

Lonesome Loser

Thursday and I have the day off blog because I am having dinner at 5 with a friend and after that I am hosting Noir at the Bar: Morally Grey. Tomorrow is a work-at-home day around my doctor’s appointment, and I was thinking about going to the Crooked Lane party Friday night but…not so sure about that. I was terribly tired when I got home from work yesterday evening, and just collapsed into my easy chair. Sparky joined me post-haste, and I basically watched the USOpen with Paul all night before I fell asleep in my chair before nine (the match we’d been watching concluded, and I couldn’t even tell you who played? Naomi Osaka?) but I slept deeply and well last night. I got up at my usual time to feed Sparky and went back to bed and slept for another two hours…but Sparky came up and cuddled with me when he was finished eating AND he was purring. Coincidence I feel refreshed and rested this morning?

I think not.

Today I want to get some things taken care of around the house before I head to the Quarter to have dinner, including some writing and reading, and I also have to get prepared for tonight as well. I have to work tomorrow so I am not going to be doing anything after the reading besides coming home and going to bed. Pretty nice, if I do say so myself. I actually feel good this morning, which is a lovely feeling. (Never underestimate how well the soothing relaxation from the purr of a cuddling cat works.) I also have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning after my department and team meetings. The Crooked Lane party is tomorrow night, and I may head down for that; never hurts to stay in the good graces of a publisher, am I right?

Yesterday, our shitstain of a governor applauded the mention of the military being sent to New Orleans (and other Louisiana cities) to clean up the “crime” problem by the demented president. That presence here won’t affect our already struggling tourist economy at ALL, will it? And how will such a thing fly in Moses Mike Johnson’s district of Shreveport/Bossier City? Yeah, no government overreach here at all. Imagine had Biden sent the military in to Dallas or Kansas City or Nashville to help with crime? I will say this–a city known for its hospitality and welcoming attitude will make those soldiers sorry they were ever deployed. Don’t fuck with New Orleans. And seriously, fuck our failure of a governor, who is doing nothing about the wetlands (other than making everything worse), and he also ran on cleaning up crime…so he’s admitting, straight up, he’s an utter failure and so is his administration. We already knew that, of course; our state government makes Florida’s look like California’s.

If the federal government really wanted to clean up crime in Louisiana, they’d start at the Governor’s Mansion in Baton Rouge before making their way to the capitol. Louisiana has more oil than Kuwait, but we’re in the bottom five of everything. This is your Republican governance example as to why you should never vote for one of them; DeSantis is another great example of shit stain governance. You’d have thought we learned our lesson from Bobby Jindal’s corrupt incompetence, and how a Democratic governor basically cleaned up that mess…all so Landry could drive Louisiana into the sewer with little chance of getting out.

I know I’ll do my best to make the troops uncomfortable here. Landry also announced that ICE prisoners will have their own special section in the inhumane hell of Angola. (Reminder that immigrants have always rebuilt Louisiana after disastrous hurricanes. New Orleans would have been in ruins for years without them.)

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, and I hope to see you tonight at the Crescent City Brewhouse for Noir at the Bar: Morally Grey.

Ramses II statues with drifting sand at the Abu Simbel temple

Swingtown

Wednesday and my last day in the office for the week! I was very tired yesterday when I got home from work, so very little was achieved here once I left the office. I did have a very good and productive day at work yesterday, and I don’t feel terribly tired this morning. I spent the evening catching up on the day’s news (I don’t know why I do this; I won’t ever have to look up the news I am really waiting for because his death will be everywhere and the celebration will be like the one at the end of Return of the Jedi), and then turned the television on the to US Open until I fell asleep in my chair between eight thirty and nine before going to bed shortly before ten. I am living large, am I not?

But I have the rest of the week off–I am hosting Noir at the Bar tomorrow night so I took the day off, and I have doctors’ appointments on Friday–and not having anything carved in rock to do for the weekend of Bouchercon is lovely. Both last night and this morning, the idea of not being around at all is more appealing than the thought of going and seeing people. I’m really not fully recovered from the illness yet, and the last thing in the world I want or need is a relapse or flare-up. I don’t want to feel like that ever again, frankly, and I hope the flare-ups are very few and very far in between.

LSU climbed in the rankings in yesterday’s polls, going to 3 in the AP poll and 4 in the coaches’ poll. I think this might be overrating; yes, they looked terrific on Saturday night at Clemson but we also don’t really know how good Clemson is, predicated on anything other than last season. They lost several games last year, including to South Carolina (whom LSU beat in their home stadium last year), and sure, they and their coach have a history of excellence…but Clemson hasn’t really been a contender since the last time they lost to LSU, in the championship game for 2019. Likewise, is Auburn back, or is Baylor terrible? Could be a very interesting college football season.

I got through most of my to-do list yesterday, and that was enormously pleasing. There wasn’t much traffic yesterday, either. I guess people took yesterday off? I’m actually hoping that they took the week so there’s not any traffic today. This cool streak appears to be holding through the weekend, but then again–People Not From Here don’t view temperatures the same way we do down here…I always forget that for most people high 80’s no humidity is uncomfortably hot for them. (Like I always forget that PNFH also love local food, so much so that places I think are “touristy” and would never pick are places they wind up loving. I got a reminder of that at Saints & Sinners this year…and that makes things so much easier when people ask about places to eat, too.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning.

Count on Me

Tuesday and back to the office with me! Much as I hate getting up to an alarm, it wasn’t so rough this morning. I would prefer to stay in bed much longer under my pile of blankets and Sparky on my pillow above my head, but them’s the breaks, I guess. I made hardly a dent into my to-do list that I made yesterday morning, but again–them’s the breaks. I don’t think we’re terribly busy today. Next week? We are super-booked up with appointments next week….but even next week is a little soon for any STI’s to show up from this past Decadence weekend. (FYI, the window period for gonorrhea can be up to four weeks…)

It was a lovely weekend of rest and relaxation. Bouchercon is here this weekend, and so I am off Thursday and Friday so if I want to go down there and be seen, I can. I am hosting Noir at the Bar on Thursday night at the Crescent City Brewhouse, and have dinner plans for Lilette on Saturday night, but I don’t think (or remember) if I’ve agreed to anything else. I suspect I’ll end up not going down there very often or very much, to be honest. We shall see how it all goes, and I suspect it will have more to do with my fatigue levels than anything else. It really irritates me that I am still not at 100%. Patience, Gregalicious, patience. I’ve never been very patient.

It was a fairly calm and quiet Labor Day. I did get the downstairs orderly again, and did the floors (I love my new vacuum cleaner), and dipped into The Hunting Wives for a bit. I also made some notes on the new Scotty and also came up with how to write a short story I’ve been struggling with for years (staggering to realize how long that some stories sit in my files before I get around to finishing them), and I am not entirely sure this idea will actually work, so we’ll have to see how that all turns out.

We watched Platonic and Foundation last night, and we started the second season of Shrinking (ROY KENT!!!), which was a lot of fun, and I look forward to getting back into Shrinking tonight.

It was so lovely to come downstairs to a clean apartment with the rugs clean and put back in place (Sparky always moves them), and I had some lovely coffee this morning as well. It’s an odd week–I’m only in the office today and tomorrow, and I have a lot of things to do before the end of the work week. I also have a doctor’s appointment Friday morning as well…

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday wherever you are, Constant Reader!

And We Danced

Tuesday morning and an easy day at the office was had by me yesterday. The in-service employee development day counted as a full day of work, so I got to leave at two yesterday, which was a rather pleasant surprise once I started figuring out my hours (new pay period; we get paid on Wednesday). I did manage to get everything caught up on that I needed to get caught up on, and that always feels good. Alas, once I got home it was a different story. I ran by the post office to get the mail on the way home (my new coffee mugs!) but once I got home, I kind of ran out of steam. I’d felt a little “off” all day, and when I got home, it hit with a vengeance. I don’t know what was wrong with me, but I was very fatigued physically and mentally…so it was US Open and an episode of Foundation. I also fell asleep in my chair around eight o’clock. Not sure what that was all about yesterday, but here’s hoping today will be a better one. I think we are slow again today in the clinic–no one gets tested the week before Southern Decadence…a proud tradition the New Orleans gays participate in every year; they’ll all be coming in after.

And there will be symptoms.

I feel good this morning, even though I didn’t really want to get up and out of bed this morning…it’s so warm and comfortable under my pile o’blankets. Sparky was even cuddly this morning, around trying to get me to wake up and feed him. He really is a sweetheart…as I look at the scabs all over my hands and arms from his claws.

September is almost upon us–this weekend, in fact–as well as LSU’s football season opening and then it’s Bouchercon, and next thing you know, it’s mid-September. Time does seem to go past much more quickly the older you get. It’s a cliché, but clichés become clichés for a reason. (Same with stereotypes–something I’ve taught multiple times; ‘how to write outside your experience” type things.) I have a lot of things to try to get done next week–people to see, mostly, other than Noir at the Bar on Thursday night–so I really need to focus this week and get ahead rather than falling behind. I do regret being so fatigued yesterday (it feels like wasted time to me, but getting rest when you need it isn’t a waste; I am being much kinder to myself these days), but am not beating myself up over it. I think sometimes I get depressed, but in a different way than most people think about when they hear “depression”–sure, sometimes I used to really get terribly down, but now I’m not truly aware of it until my brain and body show signs, like being tired. It’s also hard because I am still recovering from the physical trauma of being so horribly sick (and getting paranoid every time my digestive system does something or feels off, like it did yesterday–fearing that I’m going to have another episode). There are so many things anything could be! Just getting older, still recovering, maybe depression, maybe anxiety, and on and on and on it all goes.

Heavy sigh.

I also didn’t do much around the house last night. I forgot to turn the dishwasher on yesterday morning before I left the house (I did, however, remember this morning), and I also didn’t pick up anything or vacuum or anything. I was serious when I said I wasted the evening in my chair! Hopefully tonight when I get home I’ll have some energy. I’ll need to unload the dishwasher (and load it again) and I think there’s some laundry that also needs doing, as well as picking up and cleaning and writing.

I also need to update my to-do list.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Taco Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.

Ah, those Chippendales calendars. In the 1980s, muscle boys hadn’t all started shaving off all their body hair yet…and hairy is a good look for this dude.

Love American Style

Monday and it’s back to the office with me. This weekend is Labor Day, which also means it’s Southern Decadence in the French Quarter, which used to be one of my favorite weekends of the year–when I was younger and had more stamina and staying out all night didn’t put me into a coma for a week. I’m enormously pleased to have an extra day off this weekend, and then of course the week after that is Bouchercon. I am not registered, and am only seeing people I want to see. I used to get excited for Bouchercon as much as I’d get excited about Decadence, but alas–those days have passed as well.

And if my last Bouchercon was San Diego, that’s an excellent one to go out on. I had such an amazing time at that one…it would be hard to top that weekend.

I am sure it will come as no surprise to anyone that I didn’t get much done yesterday despite the best laid plans of mice and men. Paul’s trainer cancelled at the last minute, and so I ended up hanging out with Paul (which is always my choice if it’s an option) while I tried to get some things done. I did make some progress, but we wound up getting sucked into the US Open for most of the day. And of course there’s an entire day of college football this Saturday, capped off with LSU at Clemson in the evening. Everyone is predicting LSU to lose, and given the Tigers haven’t won a season opener since Joe Burrow graduated…I can understand the mentality. I’ve no doubt Clemson will be good this year, and I have no doubt that playing at Clemson isn’t easy.

I do feel rested this morning, I have to say, and that’s a nice feeling to wade into another Monday and a new week. I don’t like being tired on Monday mornings for obvious reasons…and I also have a lot to get done today at the office. No worries, since I am not client facing today so I can get a lot of the Admin work taken care of today and be caught up, which is always a rather nice feeling. I also need to update and rewrite my to-do list, which I also need to keep referring to–at least ONCE a day, as opposed to my usual “make the list and never look at it again,” which is highly counterintuitive. Heavy heaving sigh. And some of the things I have to do this week are absolutely things I don’t want to deal with. Ah, well, tis life, isn’t it?

The weather was insanely beautiful this past weekend; that cold front affecting most areas north of here dropped the temperatures into the 80’s and also displaced the humidity, so it was sunny and gorgeous with cool breezes everywhere. I walked to Walgreens yesterday and didn’t even break a sweat–not even my socks got damp. It’s going to be more normal this week, they say, with the humidity coming back with a vengeance so it’ll be a sweaty Decadence this weekend–which of course is a tradition; everyone drenched in sweat and their brief attire plastered to their bodies. If I could still park at the office on Frenchmen Street, I might even drop by down there this weekend just to refresh my memories of what Decadence is like–or see how it’s different from the last time I went down there (pre-pandemic) or how little it’s changed.

I taped a radio/podcast yesterday morning with host Dan White (who is always fun) along with friends John Copenhaver and Robyn Gigl yesterday morning to help promote Crime Ink: Iconic, which is releasing on September 2nd, next Tuesday to be exact. I was very pleased to hear nice commentary on my story yesterday, and that gave me some high hopes for the future of Never Kiss a Stranger, should I ever complete the damned thing. I also have to pick something out to read for Noir at the Bar next Thursday…it would probably be smart to read from my story from the anthology, but it’s not really noir. I am leaning towards reading “This Town” again; I’ve only read it publicly once, and why not? I am proud of the story and it does lend itself to being read aloud.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have yourself a merry little Monday, Constant Reader. I’ll be back tomorrow!

Michelangelo’s David’s hand. Stunning, isn’t it?

When I’m Sixty-four

For the first time in decades, I am not taking my birthday off.

That’s why I am up at this ungodly hour, swilling down coffee and consuming coffee cake like it’s going out of style. I need to conserve my PTO, because I am going to the panhandle (barring unforeseen circumstances) for a week with my dad in October after a weekend in Alabama for Dad’s and Mom’s birthdays. I also have to take some time off during Bouchercon–there’s no way I can work all day and then host Noir at the Bar that Thursday, and probably not going to be able to do much work that Friday, either. I think I’ve managed to get it all planned out so that I will have just enough vacation time left to do the family thing in October, and then let things start building back up again for the new year. It’s going to be weird going to work on my birthday–I generally take the day off because I don’t need or want the attention that comes with it–but I will survive, I am sure.

Sixty. Four.

Christ on the cross.

I never planned for my future because I never thought I would have one. When I was a kid, I was certain I wasn’t going to have much of an adult life; I always had nightmares about not only dying but how I would die; either in a car accident, or a fall from a high place. This is why I am always, to this day, a little bit tense when I’m in a car and a LOT tense when I am the passenger. In my early twenties, I thought I was going to seroconvert and die from AIDS–why would I ever think that I would survive that pandemic? The next thing I knew I had somehow made it to fifty, then sixty–and now I am sixty-four, with another milestone birthday just a year in my future, should I make it till then. I am woefully unprepared for retirement, so most likely will continue to work for another few years to at least try to get my debt down to a manageable place. Ha ha ha ha, I’m so adorable, aren’t I?

I guess the ship has sailed on me dying young, hasn’t it?

But it’s been a pretty good life thus far, I have to say. I’ve written and published a shit ton of work, which can never be taken away from me, and neither can the awards I’ve either won or made the shortlist for…how many authors never make a shortlist of any kind? But the childhood conditioning that celebrating myself and things I’ve accomplished is a hubristic tempting of fate; how many stories and myths and fables are there about hubristic humans who anger a god? Like I often say, I live in the city I love with the man I love doing work that I love. All of my dreams came true, no matter what happens in the future.

My sixties haven’t been easy on me, and I don’t have the energy I used to have so recovery from physical, emotional, and professional blows doesn’t happen as fast as it used to; but I’m still pretty pleased and happy with my life. I try not to worry about future outcomes that I can’t control, and can only prepare for the things I can. If my thirties were about getting myself mentally healthy so I could have the life I wanted, and the forties were about getting started in my career and the fifties were about getting further along and getting better as a writer, my sixties have been a time of revisiting and rethinking my past, finally getting to understand myself and where a lot of my neuroses stem from. The anxiety medication has helped me enormously in that regard, too. Realizing how emotionally crippling my anxiety was when I was a minor also has enabled me to remember, and those memories aren’t painful anymore because so much of my misery was directly attributable to said anxiety.

So now I am sixty-four. I am older than my grandparents were throughout my childhood, which is also a staggering realization. It’s also weird to think that I was born sixteen years after the end of World War II, the country was sinking into the depths of the Cold War, and President Kennedy hadn’t even been in office for a full year yet. I never imagined what it would be like to be this age, mainly because I, as stated earlier, never thought I would live this long. I’m trying not to be that old person–you know, “When I was your age” or “We used to call it” and that sort of thing, because no one really wants to hear it. I’ve seen a lot in my life, witnessed all kinds of events (the Challenger explosion, 9/11, Watergate hearings, on and on), and lived through all kinds of things. I’ve lived in Alabama, Chicago, Kansas, California, Houston, Tampa, Minneapolis, and New Orleans. I went to two high schools in different states, and two colleges in different states. I went to Italy for a week over ten years ago. I’ve had so many jobs, but being a writer/sexual health counselor were the only things that took with me.

Life’s been good to me so far.

After work, I am going to head home and just hang out with Sparky. If I had to hazard a guess, Paul will probably get us Hoshun for dinner tonight. But I got my vacuum cleaner last week, and that’s all I really cared about.

Happy birthday to me! And may my next year be a lovely one!

The only picture of my face as a baby, my first day home from the hospital.

Women

Wednesday morning blog and we’re halfway through the week. I feel decent this morning, not overly tired or fatigued or brain mushy, but awake and good. My stomach is bothering me a bit this morning, but I’m not dehydrated and this doesn’t feel like a colitis flare-up–at least not so far. I slept well, and did get some things done last night when I got home. I put away the dishes, made lunches for the rest of the week, cleaned off the counters, and did some filing. We also watched another episode of Untamed, which we are enjoying. It was a pretty mellow night, with Paul getting home later than I would prefer. I also balanced my checkbook (I have more money than I thought I did, and the more money is accurate, not my register balance–I deducted a couple of things twice), and got caught up on the news–always a depressing thing no matter how little of it I catch up on. I do love seeing MAGA being hoisted on their own petard, don’t you? The people screaming about pedophiles and grooming and Jeffrey Epstein for the last ten years are suddenly all about protecting groomers and pedophiles when their foul god turns out to be one of them…but they’ve always been all-in on hypocrisy.

There are few things I despise more than hypocrisy. I especially hate it when I’m doing it.

I dealt with the specialty pharmacy yesterday to get my injection stuff sent to me yesterday–turns out it’s only every two months that I need to use the injection device to infuse my anti-colitis medication (or whatever it is), which will be interesting. I don’t need it until September, as I have one more infusion to do first, and then a month later I start using the disposable device they’ll be sending me. (I also saw the bill they sent my insurance company –almost thirty thousand dollars! I don’t know if that is for the two infusions, or for the device they’re sending me (I suspect it is for the device, because the infusion charges would come from my GTI specialist since they are done in his office), but yikes!

Thank God that’s not coming out of my pocket…I guess uninsured people just die. I mean, it’s almost two hundred grand per year for the rest of my life, which I certainly do not have.

Sigh. I suppose I should consider myself lucky that I’ve not really had to deal with health issues until I turned sixty.

I’ve also been remiss in not talking about upcoming things, haven’t I? I have about three short stories in anthologies that are all dropping in the next two months, and I am also hosting a Noir at the Bar the Thursday of Bouchercon weekend, which I should be talking about and promoting, and should be bringing more attention to the anthologies. My bad! I know I’ve mentioned the stories before–“The Rhinestone” in Crime Ink: Iconic; “The Last To See Him Alive” in Celluloid Crimes; and “The Spirit Tree” in Double Crossing Van Dine–but I should at least post a TOC and the release dates…which means actually finding out when the release dates are. I am so bad at this, oy. I promise I will get better!

I also need to start looking into Medicare and signing up for that and so on. Heavy sigh. I really hate being an adult.

Okay, on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in on you tomorrow.

The Highwayman

And he is home in the Lost Apartment, swilling coffee after having a good night’s sleep for the first time since, well, last Tuesday night, really; I had to get up at five on Thursday, after all. I got home around nine last night; I got a ride to the airport many hours before my flight–which I don’t mind, as long as I have something to read and an Internet connection, I am more than capable of entertaining myself. The flight home was uneventful, I retrieved the car and there wasn’t any traffic to speak of on I-10 so the drive home was practically nothing. Now I have to adjust back to my normal reality, which is also fine–it can be very tiring and exhausting being at a conference for the weekend, but as I mentioned yesterday, I had a marvelous time. Sleuthfest is a lovely event (kudos to the Florida chapter of Mystery Writers of America, with an especial shout out to president Alan Orloff and chairs Michael Joy and Raquel Reyes) I’ve always enjoyed when I’ve had the opportunity to attend; I certainly hope it works out for me to go again next year. I met some new people and reconnected with others I’ve not seen since pre-pandemic (some of course I’ve met and seen since the pandemic started), and over all, it was truly a lovely weekend. I also managed to get some writing done over the course of the weekend, which is always a pleasant surprise when it happens.

But there’s also something quite lovely about being home, in my own desk chair drinking my own coffee and looking at my big desktop screen instead of the laptop. I have a million emails to get through and try to answer; data to enter for my day job; and at some point later today I have to run errands and finish re-acclimating to New Orleans and my usual, ordinary, day to day existence. I did manage to finish reading my friend’s manuscript (which I greatly enjoyed), as well as The Great Betrayal, and got about half-way through Rob Osler’s debut Devil’s Chew Toy, which I hope to finish this week. I have some stories to finish polishing to get out into the world this month, and I need to get back to the writing, of course. I’m also still a little reeling from how well my reading from Chlorine went at Noir at the Bar; yesterday people were still coming up to me to tell me how much they enjoyed it and how much they were looking forward to reading it when it’s finished. I suspect Chlorine might be the breakout book I’ve been waiting to write most of my career…it certainly seems like it, doesn’t it?

I am feeling a bit better about where I am at with everything and my writing, I have to say. That’s the lovely thing about events like Sleuthfest–writers with careers like mine often are operating in a vacuum. Sure, people say nice things to us about our work on social media or in Amazon or Goodreads reviews, but for the most part we don’t get many opportunities to engage with readers or other authors in person. I doubt, for example, that I will ever be so popular that my signings or readings or appearances will be ticketed events. It’s always possible, of course, but at this point hardly likely. having in person interactions with other writers and readers. Writing is different from other jobs; you mostly do it by yourself and it’s not like you have an office filled with other co-worker authors to go to every day. I never am overly concerned about how good of a job I am doing at my day job; I know my job inside out and I provide good care and education to my clients every day. But writing is an entirely different animal. You work on something by yourself for quite some time and polish it and edit it and rewrite it and you have no idea what’s going on with it–if it’s any good or not, because you’re not a good judge of your own work, and then you send it out and wait and wait and wait to find out if it’s any good or remotely publishable. And even then, you don’t get any feedback outside of your editor for months and months and months after you wrote it–and in some cases, by the time the book or story comes out, you’ve completely forgotten what it was about and who the characters were and so on.

Heavy sigh.

That’s why, at least for me as an author, going to events like Sleuthfest are so important. I need that reinvigoration every once in a while; it inspires me and pushes me and gets me back to feeling like an author again. It’s really nice.

But now I have to get back to reality–balancing day job with writing and volunteer work and keeping the house–and I know my next event will be Bouchercon in September, at the end of the dog days of summer and as football season once again kicks into gear. So for now, I am going to make another cup of coffee, put some things away and start doing some chores around here before I dive back into the duties of my day job. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will talk to you again tomorrow.