Decade in Review: 2007

Feb 17, 2007.  New Moon.  After months and months of knowing I was a finalist, I received the news that I had placed Third in Writers of the Future!  I was going to LA for a week-long workshop.   I'd submitted twelve manuscripts over a four year period and it had finally paid off!


March 2007.  Having jump-started CUUPs at UUCE, I was encouraged to give a four-minute presentation at a local Interfaith gathering.   After a brief introduction Neo-Paganism, I lead a quick visualization of the four elements.   The presentation was well received, probably because I used my radio voice (someone  commented that I should make relaxation tapes).   The presentation resulted in a jump in CUUPs attendance.

I'm trying to find the exact date, but sometime around now the Rev. Carolyn Colbert retired from being the UUCE minister.   She'd been serving there for seven or so years, and everyone was used to her style.  With her departure, a search began, and various interim ministers took over the pastoral care of the church.   What I learned from this was that I'd been coming to UUCE to hear Carolyn's sermons, which I always found challenging.

---

A year or two of being parents put the final nail in the coffin as far as our involvement with the gay community went.  Not that we were terribly active in gay community events after the Outdoor Club (a local LGBTQ hiking group) imploded, but we stopped hearing much or seeing our gay friends.   And then they began the exodus to Portland.

Sometime in the spring, I went to a Eugene LGBTQ Community building event, held at a local high school.  After listening to folks talk about self-esteem issues on the University of Oregon campus, lesbian dance parties, queer youth, and the logistics of building a Eugene Queer Resources Center, the question came up about community.  What did members of the LGBTQ community want to build for ourselves?

When I was my turn to speak I said, "Hi, my name is John and I'm a gay dad."  (pause for applause)  "My husband would be here, but he's at home caring for our child.  I'd like to remind planners that if you want to include more parents, many toddlers take a nap at this time [11 AM - 1 PM].   So, I have a question:  could the gay dads in the audience raise their hands?"  One other guy in a room of about a two hundred raised his hand.  "Thanks," I said, "that's kind of what I thought." ("But hooray for lesbian moms, too," an older woman across the aisle said encouragingly.)  I sat down.  The other gay dad disappeared by the time the meeting finished.

As Mark pointed out later, just because someone else is  a gay dad doesn't mean that we'd get along with them or want to hang out.  Which is true, but still....


May 2007.  I attended a wonderful local writers' workshop with Ellen Datlow.   She wasn't enamored with "The Colossus of Rhodes," but she did like "Sky Dance" (although apparently it's too much like, "Love is the Plan, the Plan is Death").


August 2007.  I flew down to LA for the Writers of the Future (WOTF)  workshop and awards ceremony.  Fellow Wordo Damon Kaswell had also placed in that year's volume, and we flew down together.   At the LA airport, some of my luggage got lost, which included my wedding jacket and shirt.

My roommate during the workshop was Tony Pi, the other half of the Canadian team which was in a friendly, unofficial contest with the Wordos to get into WOTF.  The workshop was like a giant Wordos marathon, only with more professional advice.

---

What I learned was that I could pound out a rough draft of a 4000 word story in in less than 24 hours.  Writing it was scary, because we had to interview a stranger as a character prompt.  My stranger was a kind of homeless, down on his luck, hot-chocolate loving, fifty-something art-dealer theologian.

I could follow some of his rambly connections very easily and  throughout our conversation I kept thinking, "Oh crap; we sound like we've started in similar places and what do I need to do so I don't turn into some shabby, damaged prophet, mumbling a burnt-out vision to himself in the streets?"  Considering how this Ghost of Christmas Future kept sitting in the middle of the story I was feverishly trying to write, I'm amazed I produced any manuscript at all.

---

What I learned is that writing is a business, and that there's a lot of competition.  Charles Brown sat  down with us, and the first words as he looked around the room were, "Out of the twelve of you sitting here, only one or two of you are going to make it."

This was followed later in the day by a moment where I overheard a hotel hallway conversation.  Another hotel guest asked a big name author who all the folks in tuxedos were (we were getting fitted).  And the author said, "This is part of the Writers of the Future contest; these folks are all writers."

"Oh! Writers!  And who are you?"  the guest asked.  "Are you famous?  Have I read you?"  I could imagine her reaching into her purse for a pen and pad to autograph.

The big name author told her who he was.  "I write science fiction and fantasy."

"Oh," she said, obviously let down he wasn't Stephen King, Tom Clancy, or John Grisham.  It was obvious she didn't read the genre and she'd never heard of the author before.

I let myself into my room, thinking, "And let this be a lesson unto you."

---

I learned that it's good for my mental health to hang out and talk with other writers.

I learned I should have started banging out a novel as soon as I had heard the news I'd placed in WOTF so I could have a draft of the manuscript to hand out to various folks and agents.

I learned that KD Wentworth remembered "Briallan Dreaming of Myrmidons," "Skies of Dreaming," "Sky Dance," and "The Colossus of Rhodes" -- stories that had made it to semi-finalist status in previous years -- and we had a great conversation about writing, editing, and submissions.  The woman who had been a gatekeeper became a new friend.

---

Mark and The Child came down for the ceremony, as did my parents.  The ceremony was kind of cheesy, but I loved it anyway.   And it was validating; instead of wondering what the heck I was doing, my family could now say, "Well, he's an award-winning author."

There was a lunar eclipse, which wasn't the most visible from the hotel, shining the the sky of LA.


Oct 2007.  Damon and I appeared briefly on the local TV station to talk about our stories in Writers of the Future.  It was part of a four month period of book signings up and down the Willamette Valley.  Damon and I had a lot of fun, and I learned how to hawk books.

Shortly afterward, I took a break from being the Wordos chair.  About four years prior,  Jerry Oltion wanted a break from running the Wordos meetings.  He called a meeting of various folks and because I was so consistent about attending that I got dubbed key-holder.  For the next couple of years, I was part of a triumvir consisting of Eric Witchey, Jay Lake and myself.  and then the next thing I knew I was facilitating the meetings.   And then gas prices went up  and folks from out of town stopped coming to Eugene for Wordos messages and for a while I was running things solo.  But I was done facilitating, and I took a break from the Wordos.


November 2007.  A particularly poorly attended CUUPs ritual was a wake-up call that the honeymoon with UUCE was over.  Clearly, I was doing something wrong, because I wasn't attracting a consistent core group of Neo-Pagans.

Neither Ronald Hutton nor Margot Adler clones had appeared for deep theological discussions or numinous moments.  Many women dropped out of CUUPs to pursue a multi-week, women-only, program entitled "Cakes for the Queen of Heaven."  And, while they were warmly interested, many of the regular Sunday going UUCE members were more focused on Neo-Paganism as part of a cultural diversity course.

Into this vacuum crept prosperity-focused folks, and before long we were having rituals about writing "prosperity checks" and "reclaiming your personal power."

Around this time UUCE hired a settled minister, who everyone had high hopes for, but who ultimately (to put it kindly) did not work out.   I'd thought, based on some of the things he had said, that he would engender a sense of wonder and worship with regard to the natural world; unfortunately, that never panned out.


November 21, 2007.  I had a fun time being a panelist at OryCon.  I had so much fun dancing Saturday night, I managed to get really sick.


December 2007.  For my 43rd birthday, Mark decorated the house as if it were Savoré ("Tea the Way It Used to Be").  He dressed up like a French waiter, put lovely linens on the tables, and served tea, sandwiches and petit fours.   At some point we realized The Child had pilfered quite a few petit fours and moved them to a higher table. 

---

2007 was the Year of the Gay Pagan Writer.  It felt like my writing career was picking up, and even if Neo-Pagan events had fizzled a little at the end, the year started out strong.

Throwback Photo

Wow. I was going through photos and came across this one.  It's from 2007.  All I can say is, "Mark, honey, you were right: cutting my hair back was the smartest thing I did for that week."

I think this really needs some sort of caption contest or possibly to become a story prompt (the gala party, spies or lovers, waiting for the limo...)

To contrast and compare... here's a more recent photo.

Forged by a Roommate ...

Okay. This is too funny -- and weird -- not to share.

Nathan Koren, one of my apartment mates from Arcosanti, took my WOTF photo and added some bits from John Boorman's "Excalibur."

WOTF TV

I'm on TV (along with Damon Kaswell) talking about Writers of the Future. More later when I've got the time...



(later)
Whew... well. Now that I've done that I'm sure if I get interviewed again it will be easier. We both thought we'd be taped, but it turns out we were live. We were the last feature, so we got to sit off to one side while the news broadcast progressed. It was interesting from a writing point of view to see how the studio works when the red light is on and off; I especially enjoyed the green screen Josh the weather anchor stood in front of because it raised up and down like a portcullis and hid his weather desk.

Mark did say that Damon and I seemed very --ahem-- "writerly." He also said that what he got from the interview was that we were excited, that the award was an honor, and that we were just starting our writing careers.

Shelley, our hostess, was really good at placing us at ease. The interview was very chatty and people-oriented. We did run out of time... and I notice that we never did mention our stories' titles (although she did read out their page numbers). I think I said "Ummm" more than Damon said "Uhhh".

WOTF Reflections

The WOTF workshop was over by the time of last month's lunar eclipse. It's been a full lunar cycle and I've been looking at my writing process, and this is what I've discovered:

• I produce more written material not when I stay up late writing (or blogging) but when I get enough sleep.
• I have an easier time with plots when I start out with a better understanding of my characters (instead of using plot and scene ideas to try to discover the characters).
• E-mail (and blogging) feel like writing sometimes, but they aren't -- so I'm trying to schedule one or two times a day to do internet things instead of jumping on it all the time.
• Spending time with other writers is good for my mental health -- especially if we're discussing writing.
• Using a laptop to compose out of the house is a good thing

Now it's back to work for me.

WOTF 23 Released

Writers of the Future Volume 23 officially released this past week. Folks outside of the United States can go to Amazon.com to order. WOTF 23 is currently #20 on Amazon.com for SF Anthology.

WOTF Book Signing

Today was my first book signing (along with Damon Kaswell) in Eugene!

We were at Waldon Books in Eugene's Valley River Center, an indoor shopping mall. Stephen Stanley (WOTF XXI) and the only person to win both Writers and Illustrator of the Future showed up to support us. We sold seven books (which is good as it's more usual to sell none).

We had fun arranging the books into a Stonehenge Monument (yes, I sang, "Stonehenge! Where a man's a man and the children dance to the pipes of Pan!"). Damon put the books back into a stacked wedge shape; which I had rearranged into a stacked wedge shape that arced toward the front of our table. (And you know what, if you're actually doing something at a table instead of just sitting there with a pen in your hand, people will stop and give you a few more seconds of attention.)

The bookstore had us just outside the magnetic theft detector grids, so we were out in the mall. On one hand this was nice because we got to interact with the S.M.A.R.T (Start Making A Reader Today, a volunteer organization that reads books to young kids) table in the middle of the mall. On the other hand, this was too bad because it was so loud (and echoey) there was no way we would have been able to do any kind of reading.

Someone wanted (jokingly) to know if either Damon or I were L Ron Hubbard. We replied "No!" in chorus, and I added, "I'm much younger."

We also got a few "Eeuw, Science Fiction and Fantasy!" folks. Most of them were nice, and we tried to get them to tell us what they did read.

We got a quite a few averted eyes (which we were expecting), and by the end of our stint we were almost shouting out. "We're local authors! We won a contest! We're published in this anthology! Buy our book! Here, have a free bookmark!"

Somebody wanted to know where we got our ideas and kind of implied that we might get them when we're drunk or high. Stephen and Damon said something about imagination being the best high. I confessed my dependency on chemical stimulation and held up an empty Pepsi can (thank you, Tim Powers).

I was very glad that I visited the bookstore ahead of time because the staff already knew who I was and I had a good idea of what to expect (and what to bring). The bookstore staff were very nice.

We're scheduled for at least five more book signings before the year is out (see schedule at the right). Some are in Corvallis and Albany. If you're in town, come see us!

A Gimli and Galadriel Moment

My recollections of WOTF would not be complete if they didn't include my final really cool discussion with KD Wentworth.

We were speaking about writing, and KD was telling me about some of the Tulsa area authors, and then she gave me some market hints, and then we started talking about the WOTF submission process. I said how Mask Glass Magic was my twelfth entry and that my very first submission to WOTF, Briallen Dreaming of Myrmidons (in something like 2002) was a semi-finalist (meaning it was in the top twenty stories submitted that quarter -- you have to be one of the top eight for a chance at first through third place); and being a semi-finalist right off the bat was hard because I expected each and every one of my stories to place that high (at least). It got to be a routine; every year (roughly the same quarter), I'd get a semi-finalist critique of my story. I'd gotten three critiques from KD before winning.

"Tell me what the stories were," KD said. It turns out she remembered writing the critiques for the stories! I remembered the order wrong and corrected myself: "Oh, yeah," I said, "Skies of Dreaming was the second story because you sort of told me in the critique to throw more rocks at the main character; and so for The Colossus of Rhodes I actually had a eighty foot robot hurling boulders at the character --"

"-- You must have thought, 'What more does she want?!'"

And we laughed and I realized 'Whoa, KD understands my frustration" and that something I'd heard at Orycon last year was true. A panel of editors said, "We're rooting for you [authors] to succeed in telling a tale."

I told her that I really appreciated hearing in the workshop that her critiques were only suggestions (not commands) for how the story might be expanded.

... And then someone dragged me off to get drinks.

Final WOTF Remembrances

It's been a little over a week since WOTF.

The Saturday after the awards ceremony, we went to a Pasadena Borders for a book signing. The first book signing was right after the awards ceremony; we were all signing each others' books. Of course, sometime during the night I placed my signed copy of the book down amidst all the hundreds of copies of the book and didn't discover it until I opened "my" copy in my hotel room at 2 AM.

So everyone had to sign my copy again at Borders.

I got to sit between Tim Powers and Stephen Kotowych, this year's WOTF Gold Award Writer. KD Wentworth was on the other side to Tim. If you look beyond KD, you can see Tony Pi (my roommate for the workshop) and Damon Kaswell (fellow Wordo). Cory Docto Sean Williams was on the other side to Stephen (and Lorraine Schleter was on the other side of Sean). Stephen is a really nice guy -- I haven't had a chance to read his story ("Saturn in G Minor") yet, because I'm only about half-way through the anthology. Tim was tolerant of my antics, and just before he went off for a break he said that if I managed to sign one of his books for a reader I could have one of his Cokes. Unfortunately, nobody wanted a faux Tim Powers signature. Luckily, Mark brought me some food shortly thereafter.

Now that I've had a little time to compile my notes and take some time for writing, I'm seeing how my approach to writing short stories wasn't exactly the best choice -- and I'm evaluating all my past work. It's going to be really hard not to go through my manuscripts and try to tweak them a lot.

WOTF JPL Tour

During the WOTF workshop, we got to visit the JPL.

We got to see a Mars Rover, which are much larger than I originally thought. Probably the coolest thing about the Mars Rover is that it e-mail its route as a map to its drivers on Earth, which they can look at on their cell phones.

We also got to see the prototype ATHLETE, a 2000 pound, hexagonal robot they want to use to explore the moon.

This thing doesn't move quite as fast as is implied by the video, and you can see it here. . .

http://www.jpl.nasa.gov/videos/technology/athlete-20070806/

It's still wicked cool and I want an army of them to do my shopping for me.



Obligatory quote:

John (eyes set in Evil Genius Mode): "Wow. I want a house made out of ATHLETEs."

JPL Guy (who programs NASA robots): "Gee, you trust robots a lot more than I do."

A New God

8/21/07

Author Tim Powers is like unto a god to me. The man can drink more Coke during an hour and a half lecture than I can drink Pepsi in a morning. All I can say is, "Wow. I am not worthy, I am not worthy."


Workshop Tuesday Morning Dream

Snow. A field of snow. And a stage set with a fence perimeter defining a house. In the house lives an old woodcutter, almost a Jepetto and his son. I he's a woodcutter or a wood carver. His son helps around the house. It's time for sleep. And the son is playing with all of his toys, which are played by a chorus of dancers.

The house is a long rectangle. An inner rectangle of toys sits inside the outer rectangle defined by the planks of the fence (which are the walls of the house).

Att this point, the story is like a ballett. It's time for the child go to go to bed, and his father is reading him a story. The toys are up and dancing while the father tells his story. But the story ends, and the toys slowly go to their places on the inner rectangle and sit down.

Just before the light is to go out, the son (who is played by a boy sopranno) stands up and sleepily recites, "echo echo amalac" and the towys twitch back to a kind of half life.

But the boy wants to be good, he knows that its time for bed, so the toys slouch back to rest. But the air is pregnant with the sense of a spell half completed, half halted.

Just then, a stranger comes out of the stormy night. The boy quickly rises and puts together a chair and table for the stranger. The father says, "Say with us tonight. The boy can sleep over here," and he carries the boy to the corner where the toys are sitting. (Well OK, the toys are everywere on the set...) He carries the boy to the other end of the long rectange of toys as if the boy were to sleep in a large over stuffed chair.

The lights go down.

For a moment in this section of the dream, things turn intt cartoon mode. Lighting and thunder send blue shadows across the floor. The crack of thunder and lightning wakes the boy. Hides under the blanket thrown over the chair.

The toys return to life, and somehow they take the boy to a ghostly toy world. Or faerie land. The walls of the house no longer contain them, and the Father (and the travelling stranger?) can no longer see him.

Something about a vase or a cubit long glass bead. (And here's an odd waking life coincidence: my Workshop item was a bead of yellow turquois.)

The head toy is the mayor clown. He names and greets all the toy citizens, and the boy is one. They seem to peramublate around the rectangle, while the mayor names them. The inner rectangle is a grassy sward.

The boy questions the mayor, and is rebuked. "I know I say exactly what people are. And I say exactly what I'm supposed to say. Do not question me."

So the boy is banished into toy world. He learns to skate and mountain climb. He becomes a snowflake and falls with the other toy snowflakes.

Meanwhile, his father (and mother?) are looking for him.

-- end of dream --

First Day at WOTF

Well eek. They've put the book trailer on the web at
www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOIenzFQi5U so find a big screen and turn the amplifier up to 11.


Here's an entry from last week...

Aug 19 3:15 PM

Got up this morning at 3:45 when Arthur started crying "See John." Practically had to shower with him wrapped around my left leg. The poor thing has been talking to the cat, who always knows when we're about to leave for a long time.

Dianna Rodgers picked me up a little after 4 AM so Damon and I could be at the airport by 4:30.

The flight was uneventful -- Damon and I tried to sleep a little; Damon was so excited that he got less sleep than I did.

Meanwhile, as the plane descends over the Dodger's Baseball Stadium, it becomes apparent to me that my right ear is still under the influence of the cold Arthur passed to me.

LAX: The luggage turntable only yielded my suitcase. Who knows where my folding garment bag is. With any luck it will show up later this afternoon.

After a slight delay -- which doesn't turn up the lost luggage -- I'm introduced to Nick (who drives us), Julie (an assistant) and Steve (published finalist). It takes me several moments of conversation to sort out names and faces. It doesn't help that the conversation is really dim in my right ear.

LAX is about a half-hour away from the Sheraton, so we trade stories about world travel. Then we wait for rooms to open up. Then we have a late buffet (with an odd, writable waiter -- when he speaks into my left ear I can mostly understand what he's saying).

Then Damon -- who's been babbling on about over roasted coffee beans -- stumbles off for a nap. And we head off in different directions. I get to my room. My right ear finally clears.

Later...

While exploring the Pasadena Civic Auditorium (and Ice Skate Rink), I run into Steve and Joe (last year's winner). They're looking for Damon, who has gone off to the mall across the street. Construction fencing provides a minor obstacle to the mall, but we manage to make it to the mall in once piece.

After looking around for someone who looks like Damon, I remember that I have his cell phone number.

At least I manage to locate a Pepsi.

Back from WOTF

I've just returned from my fabulous week at the L Ron Hubbard Writers of the Future Workshop.

It was seriously cool; the group of writers this year really bonded and much of what I've learned from The Wordos was vindicated by numerous writers during the week's presentations.

I still don't quite believe it. During video presentation of the book, I felt the bass drums and power chords vibrating my body --and even with the knowledge that my limbic brain was being tickled, I had a frission moment when I saw my story's title and illustration on The Big Screen. And it was even more cool when the woman who illustrated my story took the grand prize for illustration.

Mark came down with Arthur and has been tremendously supportive -- not only did he do 98% of the childcare since the 19th, but travelling to Pasadena to be my trophey husband, tour guide and photographer cost him a ski trip.

Anyway, more as I get to it --

Lent's First Thursday

Things are getting back to normal here. Mark got back from a ski trip Tuesday night (he was away when I got the WOTF news). He had a great time spending large amounts of time outside in the cold snow. As I result of his return, after Arthur's swim class, I managed to get about two hours of writing in.

Arthur and I spent the past weekend visiting my folks (and Grandma). My sister, Julie, also came down for the long weekend (and her birthday). My Dad isn't feeling so well, so things were a little low in energy than from the norm. He and Arthur did manage to get about fourty-five minutes into a video of The Magic Flute; Arthur finally got board when Zarastro sang a long solo about Truth, and my Dad had to fast-forward to the Queen of the Night's Revenge Aria. When Arthur was rooting around in a box of my Mother's, he found a lost key; she was so happy that clothing from Costco jumped into her shopping cart later that day.

My Grandmother continues to do as well as expected -- she was fairly lucid when she was awake, and she's beginning to realize that she's not at her home. I believe she'll be able to leave the nursing home fairly soon. I still continue to be amazed at her good attitude towards her situation, which is that virtual strangers take care of her.

During all the time spent on the road, I think of things I might do with the WOTF money. So far I've got

• Buy a LCD monitor for my desktop to replace the HUGE VTR monitor that takes up a third of my desk
• Buy a wall charger for my iPod Nano so I don't have to plug it into the Mac all the time
• Buy an iPod with a video out port
• Put all of the money into a Nursing Home Fund for sixty years from now
• Get a domain name for myself
• Create a paper and photocopy fund to use for rough drafts
• Splurge at the bookstore for a copy of Ronald Hutton's Stations of the Sun
• Set aside money for OryCon
• Get some nice business cards

I'm sure I'll think up more as the days go by.

New Moon News

This morning as I was trying to Arthur to fall asleep for his noon-ish nap, I got a phone call. It wasn't WOTF, it was my mother. She wanted to know when Arthur's and Mark's birthdays were, and she wanted to confirm when Mark and I got "married."

Arthur and I went back to his room -- the useless irritant in the shape of a cat came in and made some noises to induce awakeness and I induced her to leave the room.

Arthur was just falling asleep when I got another phone call. "This better be Writers of the Future," I groused as I walked to the phone. It WAS.

Joni Labaqui introduced herself and I took a few deep breaths and told her I was sitting. I was steeling myself to hear that I was going to remain a finalist, so my brain stopped working after she said, "I'm pleased to tell you you've won ..." I probably said, "This is really exciting!" fifty times. Joni wanted to know if I was a Wordo and I told her I was the chair. I did have enough presence of mind to ask her when I could blog the news and to ask her what story rights I was selling.

So what this means is that I win a cash prize of $500 and Galaxy Press will pay me to print my story in the Writers of the Future XXIII Anthology. I haven't seen the contract, yet -- Joni runs the contest, and Galaxy Press does the publishing -- so I don't know what the rate is, but I've heard that it's in the high end of the professional range (five to ten cents a word) for first international rights. (First rights means that I can sell the story again -- say, if someone like Ellen Datlow likes it so much that she wants to buy it.) Sometime in the middle of August I'll be flown to (probably) LA for a week-long writer's intensive workshop. I'll get to meet folks like K.D. Wentworth, Tim Powers, Anne McCaffrey, Larry Niven, Orson Scott Card, and a slew of folks listed here at http://www.writersofthefuture.com/judges.htm. It will be a little bit like a Wordos session, only all day every day for a week and with marketing tips. One of the Illustrators of the Future will be chosen to illustrate my story and I'll get to see the art. My understanding is that for a week I'll be treated a little like a rock star, with at least one limousine ride to a wine-and-dine event ("Oh, you'll hate that, John" said Mark when I told him). I have to scare up a tuxedo or rent one.

...And then there will be book signings and "meet the author" events once I get back to Eugene. I imagine that I'll be teaming up with fellow Wordo Damon Kaswell a lot since we'll be in the same anthology and with previous Wordos finalists for other WOTF events in the Willamette Valley.

This is my first story sale, so I'll probably photocopy my check. I also get a reallly cool Lift Off Award from the Wordos. Off to write a writer's bio -- I can't decide if I should use this fifteen year old recent picture or not.

Third Place!

i just got a call from Joni Labaqui at WOTF and I placed third in Writers of the Future 2006 Q4!

I was really really excited because I thought Joni said first place. I guess it was a case of hearing what you wanted. Anyway, I'm still really excited because this is also my first publication. Not only do I get some prize money, I should get paid at a really nice rate per word.

More once Arthur falls asleep for his nap.

Perpetual Anticipation...

... is good for the soul but it's bad for the heart.

Who would have thought that my life would become a Stephen Sondheim musical? Still no word from WOTF. No "Weekend in the Country" for us; we're going to try to replace the smaller of our two kitchen cabinets.

Send Chocolate & Pepsi

I thought for sure WOTF would call tonight.

It's the full moon and it's the Ides of Winter, for crying out loud; all sorts of fruition things are supposed to happen on the full moon. I mean, I got my finalist notification on my birthday! Surely I'd hear something on the Mid Winter Moon. Then again, I thought for sure they'd call before Tuesday's Wordos meeting.

Right now I'm singing Happily Ever After from Once Apon a Matress along with Carol Brunette. But it's getting to the point where I'm about to play the role of Sally the Doll in a reenactment of the last scene on the Island of Misfit Toys from Rudolf the Red-nosed Reindeer (you know, where all the toys are huddled around a lonely little campfire).

Apparently Damon Kaswell (a Wordo and 3rd Place Winner for 2006 Q2) was on the local TV station. It was mentioned on the WOTF's blog site, and when I read it the first time through I thought a heretofore unknown Eugenian writer had become a WOTF darkhorse.

I'm in the weird state of knowing some of the other finalists' names and all of my obsessive web surfing for WOTF 2006 Q4 results has shown me that I'm not the only one waiting for the phone to ring with good news; so on one hand I'd really like to take first place, but on the other hand I have some feeling for what my competitors must be going through. I'm really glad that none of them are Wordos, because that would make things even weirder.

Still a Finalist

Well...

Still no word from WotF.

On Dec 28 I had my first Finalist Anxiety Dream: I dreamt Joni Labaqui, the WotF Contest Director, wasn't really the Contest Director at all, but some sort of literary grifter. I hadn't really reached finalist status, it was all a confidence scam to get into my bank account and steal my identity.

I guess I'm going to have to watch what I eat before going to sleep.

Even though I know some of my fellow Wordos from the year's previous quarters had to wait a really long time (OK, four weeks) to hear about how their stories placed, I kind of hoped that the e-mail that said I'd hear from them "in the next few days" meant within the next seven days. Yeah, I know, it's an unrealistic expectation, especially given the holidays. Still I secretly thought I might receive a New Year's Eve phone call.

So. Now I wait and try not to visit The WotF Blog Site too many times a day and try not to count unhatched chickens.