January 2006

Yes, I've given in

Time for me ta whinge

Everything I've been doing...

My Social Dysfunction (Meme)

So I bought this time machine on eBay...

Why I don't yet have a LiveJournal

If you're not on LJ, that's okay. Come visit me anyway.

I'll still maintain this blog, for I need a place to whine.

Meanwhile, here's a quiz for you:

After you die... Heaven After death, you will exist in heaven. Everything and everyone you love will constantly surround you for all of eternity. You lucky scoundrel.

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Speaking of being professional: January's sales: "Beware the Drop Bears" in IROSF and a Gameboy Advance review of Pokemon Sapphire, Ruby and Emerald in Oki Nirmala. "Twisted Cat Tales" comes out next month. Buy a copy, ask me nicely, and I'll send you an autographed label to stick inside.

I have a lovely little Post-It style sticky note program for my computer called Stickit. (I love sticky notes and thank Spencer Silver and Arthur Fry (and possibly Romy & Michelle, who are my heroes) for it.) I love making lists of things to do, because they are most likely to get done. I am a visual-reminder type of person, who must have everything out and visible or I forget it... unless I've written down what it is I need to do. Then whatever it is can be filed away because I have a visual reminder in the form of a sticky-note list. I love Stickit because Their Ladyships cannot remove it from the monitor and use it for art paper or toilet paper or snack paper.

My list (whereas all my lists begin "Things to do on a Monday" et al) has thirteen items on it. I do list chores, such as dishes, laundry and mopping, but for the most part, this is a list of things to do. No doubt there will be more added to the list as the day goes on.

My lists tend to be longish, and they tend to roll over one day to the next. Rare is the day I complete my list.

Why?

Because my daughters need me.

They are young and I am much in demand by them. This means that all the writing I want/need to get done, all the articles I want to pitch, all the music I need to write, not to mention all the other projects (like my 15-year-old crazy quilt) aren't getting done because my daughters need me. No doubt my daughters, the world and God will be pleased that I sacrificed my personal projects for the sake of Maternity, but betwixt us, I do feel a bit, um, wistful, I guess, that I can't finish my projects. Charlie just cleared out his story trunk with a sale to F&SF. It was a story about a butt with an eyeball in it; can you believe it?

So I'm not being as productive as my peers. That's okay, because my daughters need me. I take comfort in that fact that something so important as them is what is keeping my production quotas low. It's not procrastination, it's not dullness, or even Diablo II. It's something noble and worthy and the most important thing in the world, to, at least, two little people.

Meanwhile...

I sold another article, "Beware the Drop Bears: Australian Speculative Fiction", to IROSF. I got a lot of flak from some "Authors of Australian Citizenship" (say that as you would say "Women of Colour") who refuse point-blank to ever, EVER let their work be titled "Australian Speculative Fiction".

Funny thing about that when I was doing my research: all the people who strongly objected to the phrase tend to be of the "Incestuous Old Bastard" school where everything must be status quo. Everyone else who bothered to say something were rather Aussie in their attitude, and either had no opinion on the subject either way ("She'll be Right, Mate") or had something new to contribute to what Stephen Dedman described as an "old argument".

Funny thing about old arguments. The reason they are old arguments and not resolved arguments is because those involved don't know how to solve problems, but vainly insist that their point of view is the right one. Well, thanks to a few rather cold and stuck-up exchanges with several of the IOBs, I have come to the completely emotionally-based decision that there *is* such a creature as Aussie SF, and it is related to the Drop Bear (hence the article name).

I love The Wiggles

Just thought I'd share. I admire them for their cleverness and their musical genius. I would love to spend a working week with them. So, Greg, Anthony, Murray and Jeff, if you're reading this, please email me and we'll make arrangements. P.S. Murray, I've got your PDA again. Please let me know what you want me to do with it.

My obsession with LJ is really a symptom of something else.

I get lonely easily when I feel I'm being left out. That's why I have a love/hate relationship with LJ. LJ is like Salt Lake Roasting Company where some of my friends would hang out. I am the lonely person standing outside the window, looking in. I watch everyone drinking Italian sodas, eating cheesecake and having a good time. Occasionally, if one of them looks up, I'll wave hello. But for the most part, I'm outside looking in.

So why don't I walk in the door? Because the only available seat for me might just very well be located at the table-for-one in the far corner, instead of crowding in with sixteen people around a table best meant for eight.

Anyhow... I went to Peter Kelly's birthday party last Saturday and caught up with some friends I think are really cool. I asked one, James, if he had a blog, and he shuddered like Hazel. A few more inquiries show that all these people whom I think are really, really cool have no blogs (that they are willing to admit to) and then I don't feel so bad. Except that means that I only get to socialise with them when we catch up. That doesn't happen too often--at least, for me. His Grace gets to see them twice a week at fencing. Perhaps I should encourage him to drag me along to more parties.

So Shauna, my very dear friend who doesn't have a blog, said to me last week, "Since when have you followed the herd?" Good point. Only when I'm seeking validation. Which is sometimes, but not always.

I thought I'd just add, it's not simply the desire to belong that's driving my LJ obsession. It's the networking as well. I recently read a certain agent (we'll call her JJ)'s blog, only to discover that many, many of the other people whose LJs I read and who are also on the OWW, are connected to this agent. They know each other, have name recognition and thus, professional contacts.

And who knows me? Um... not many people. If I were to query this agent out of the blue, would she recognise me as someone who might be a skilled writer who knows her craft? Prolly not. I'll be just another letter in her rather large slush pile. She wouldn't know me from Adam. (Then again, I don't know Adam and he don't know me.)

A Rather Naked Meme

So I took The Color Quiz the other day. The results were... uncanny. Anyone else get something that was disturbingly accurate?

Excerpt from the results:
     "Circumstances are such that she feels forced to compromise for the time being if she is to avoid being cut off from affection or from full participation. Eager to make a good impression, but worried and doubtful about the likelihood of succeeding. Feels that she has a right to anything she might hope for, and becomes helpless and distressed when circumstances go against her. Finds the mere possibility of failure most upsetting and this can even lead to nervous prostration.
     "Feels unappreciated and finds the existing situation disagreeable. Wants personal recognition and the esteem of others to compensate for the lack of like-minded people with whom to ally herself and make herself more secure. Her sensual self-restraint makes it difficult for her to give herself, but the resulting isolation leads to the urge to surrender and merge with another. This disturbs her as she regards such instincts as weaknesses to be overcome; only by not succumbing to them, she feels, can she withstand the difficulties of the situation. Wants to be valued as a desirable associate and admired for her personal qualities.
     "Needs to be valued and respected as an exceptional individual, in order to increase her self-esteem and her feeling of personal worth. Resists mediocrity and sets herself high standards.
     "Seeks the determination and elasticity of will necessary to establish herself and to make herself independent despite the difficulties of her situation. Wants to overcome opposition and achieve recognition.
     "Depleted vitality has created an intolerance for any further stimulation, or demands on her resources. This sense of powerlessness, combined with frustration that she cannot control events, subjects her to agitation, irritation, and acute distress. She tries to escape these by stubborn insistence on her own point of view, but the general condition of helplessness renders this often unsuccessful. Is therefore very sensitive to criticism and quick to take offense. Desires recognition and position, but is worried about her prospects. Reacts to this by protecting at any criticism and resisting any attempt to influence her. Tries to assert herself by meticulous control of detail in an effort to strengthen her position."

Gee, that's kind of how I'm feeling at the moment. Remember, "....borderline to 'Happy' and 'Normal', but still in the realm of 'Paranoid'."

In a nutshell, I'm a valuable associate to know, being an exceptional individual and it is in everyone's best interests to know and accept me. :)

Writing

Not much done this week, due to lack of time. Sorry, no Zokuto counter until I actually write something.

Meanwhile, I'm finishing off the last novel crit I owe (Coming soon, Melissa!) and have been editing Of The Dark.

Man, editing takes a lot more work/time than first drafting. I can crank out a chapter in an evening and still feel fresh. But I'm doing some serious editing right now, and while it still takes me an evening a chapter, it saps out all my energy. I guess it doesn't help that I printed my galleys in 8pt font?

What can I say? I'm a paper miser.

And that's all I've got to say today. Maybe more tomorrow, when I'm at work.

10 January 2005
My Social Dysfunction

Note I'm borderline to "Happy" and "Normal", but still in the realm of "Paranoid".

I wonder if our social dysfunctions show up like signposts over our heads. It could explain some things; people look at me, see the "paranoid" signpost above my head, then turn around and walk away. I know I can sense bad weirdness in people and thus avoid them because of it. I wonder if people do the same to me.

Your Social Dysfunction: Paranoid You show pervasive and unwarranted suspiciousness, and mistrust of others. You are overly sensitive and prone to jealousy.

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com Please note that we aren't, nor do we claim to be, psychologists. This quiz is for fun and entertainment only. Try not to freak out about your results.

---

It was a screaming deal for AU$179.95, and I outbid this one guy from Equador and this other guy from Finland. Contrary to popular belief, it doesn't look like this, but rather like this.

I have this great big list of things I want to go back and see/do/fix.

First things first: Ease the pain of a soul.

Around 1983 is a very lonely little girl who sits on the steps of the playground, desperately hoping that someone will notice her and invite her to play. As her current situation will never change...
(except for one awful afternoon when after spraining her ankle she is mercilessly tormented and trodden upon as she crawls her way back into the classroom. As she hangs back after school is dismissed so she can take one of the baseball bats from the equipment box to use as a crutch, she is stopped and questioned by a teacher who wonders why she never asked for any help. Well, of course she never asked for help! It wasn't as if anyone was going to help her...)
...nor improve, I take her aside and tell her that she will never be asked to play, not by this bunch, not now, not ever. I don't explain why, because she is heart-broken as it is because of this news. I know why she sat there hundreds of times... it is because it was the only world she knew. These were the only kids her age she knew, and nobody bothered to tell her there was a bigger world outside of Yonkers. (Then again, nobody ever explained anything to her.)

List of Alternative Things

1. Never sit on the steps again. Never expect them to see you as a human being, because they never will, not this bunch. Leave them, each recess and go to a relatively quiet spot on the field and lose yourself in reading, writing or drawing. However, do not go too far, because if they ever see you alone, they will come after you and torment you, somewhere where no adult can see, and they will do terrible things to you.
   
2. Better yet, avoid them altogether. Don't bother going to school. Tomorrow morning, leave the house earlier than usual (yeah, I know it's hard for you to wake up earlier, but there is a legitimate, medical reason for this... I'll explain later) and I'll take you to a new school. Be sure to bring a copy of your birth certificate and I'll do the rest. Keep your eyes out for some kids by the name of Shauna, Melissa, Peter and Paul. They'll be your friends.
   
3. Until I've sorted out your registration at your new school, here's a bus pass. Take the #29 up to the University of Utah and go check out the Marriott Library. Children's section is on the fourth floor. Make it look like you're studying, and nobody will bother you. Alternatively, find the typewriters and do some writing.
   
4. You've already got access to the Beatles. Listen to them often. Here is something else for you to listen to; they're called "Pink Floyd".
   
5. While you're at the library, check out this list I'm giving you on books about writing. Come up with ten ideas for articles and I'll help you write them, then show you how to pitch them. You're going to need some financial independence if you want to keep up with the Joneses.
   
6. Now be a good girl... I'll be back soon. I've got some vengeance I need to wreak on your behalf. No, it's better you do not know. I don't want you growing up bloodthirsty.
   

Miquela Faure caved in and got a LiveJournal. This is what everyone (including myself) had to say about her first posting.

Most of Damian's college/uni friends are on LJ. Pretty much all of my writing peers from the OWW (plus a whole bunch of writers I would love to call my contemporaries) are on LJ.

If any of my high school and Granite Youth Symphony friends are on LJ, I wouldn't know how to find them.

So, why am I not on LJ?

Primarily, fear.

In Miquela's blog, see how everyone is overjoyous that she's on LJ? Read the comments of other LJers and see how they have a sort of familiarity with each other? They care for each other and enjoy each other's company.

My fear is that I would not be welcomed and accepted in the same way. I fear being shoved to the fringe again, like I have been my whole life, acknowledged, but never truly accepted.

Now, it may be that I would also be welcomed as a part of the community and people would enjoy my entries and that their hearts will lift when they see a comment from me. But there is no guarantee. I'd hate to open an LJ, say, "Hi folks, I'm here" and be greeted by the sound of crickets.

By not opening an LJ, I don't change my social standing nor how others would welcome me (or not), but I retain hope that my fears may be unfounded. While it would be a wonderful thing to be a member of the social community of the 21st Century, the confirmation of ostracisation is much worse than living in limbo.

Every single recess during sixth grade I sat on the steps of the playground, desperately hoping that someone would invite me to play. They never did. Had I known this would be the case, and had I a stronger sense of self, I would have used that precious time to go off on my own, far, far, away on the field, to read, to write, to escape into the world of fiction. But I was at that tender age where friends are everything, being popular (or at least accepted) was the be-all and end-all of existence. You had to be acknowledged by your peers or you were less than nothing.

After I win that time machine on eBay, I shall travel back in time to that eleven-year-old girl and tell her that those horrid little buggers will never accept her, no matter how clever, how pretty, how successful she was, and that her time would be best spent somewhere else. I will then proceed to show her how to better spend her time.

Secondarily, time.

Somebody's got to take the time to read all those entries then comment on them. That takes time. I'm not flush with time. Okay, I do take the time to read people's blogs, and sometimes comment. But if I actually belonged to LJ, instead of lurking on the edges...

I guess to get something out of it, you've got to put something in. Perhaps my biggest fear is all in my head and I would be welcomed like Miquela was. I'll get pulled in and I'll find myself addicted to LJ as if feeds my basic human desire to be wanted and loved. Would I end up taking time from something lucrative like my non-fiction article writing to feed this basic human desire?

If I had more time, I'd cheerfully open my own LJ account: www.livejournal.com/hkkneale/ "Noble White Champion of Light"...

If only I wasn't so afraid.