barry_king (barry_king) wrote,

We are Ugly, But We Have the Music

Finally, finally, finally was able to finish a story. A real story. And for a venue I was trying to write a story for for a VERY long time. It was started under the tutelage of John Langan of Carnivorous Sky fame, and I've been trying to get back to finishing it for months.

I started it in mid-July, kept bringing it up to work on and not feeling where it was going at all. Then it metastasized, and got all complicated and political. Then it made me go over Libertarian thought (a contradiction in terms on the best of days), and then it ran head into the CZP website rewrite where it took a back seat to getting all das blinkenlights to flash properly.

So, all October, I told myself NO. NO posting, no photos, nothing until this damn story gets written. Even then, it was a three week slog trying to make it gel in my head. And some photos DEMANDED taking.

Of course, when it was done, it was a kind of pan forte monkey bread kind of affair. Thick and nutty and dense, and created out of dis con ect ed elements of thought, memory, and feeling. A little like arrow with the linearity of feeling brought through non-linear time.

So what have I been doing in the mean time?

Apples! The tree was laden with about ten bushels, and we've been making pies and tartes tatins like mad fools ever since harvest time. Work has been spotty, and not paying well, and several invoices have not been paid, in some cases for three months, so it's getting a little difficult paying for things on time, but we're coping so far.

Job search! (Crickets chirping in the darkness). Not getting ANY responses. I think everyone's still busy and under-budgeted, because I'm not getting rejections either.

Went to Can-Con. Read a piece of Arrow very badly for the ChiZine Book Launch Party, and met some of the other Imaginarium contributors, which was really nice to do. I was surprised at how well the story was received and how many people read it. It's not a pleasant piece, by far.

The hotel did not seem aware what it meant to host a SF Con, so all the parties got closed down by security just as they were starting to take off. I was able to talk to people and meet new friends much more then ReaderCon. Mostly, though, I played Bilbo and sat in the reading room, listening to people read their novels which ran from the sublime to the self-published (and it shows).

One surprisingly interesting and thoughtful panel, though, on multiculturalism in SFF with a very Canadian mix of multicultural elements (Metis, Francophone, First Nations, Anglo, and, inexplicably, David Hartwell, looking very sedate in kakis and a golf shirt, and making rather salient points that complemented all the others and which looked both forward and back.

I didn't hang around for Sunday and the Auroras, though. Family affairs called, and the following week we went to Ottawa again for my niece's wedding. I had forgotten just how difficult loud music makes it for talking. Or anything else.

And then back to the story....

Which is done.

And will be sent in, soon.

Perhaps I can get back to my real work again? I keep feeling something is brewing, like the prickly time before a storm.

We shall see.
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