WICKED, WICKED SNOW
(AND OTHER WINTER EVENTS)

Winter has been pretty eventful so far. I recently found out my next short story, "Amor Fugit" is going to appear in the March/April edition of Fantasy and Science Fiction Magazine. (I've added a "Bibliography" box to the left for anyone who wants updates on my writing.) Also, my friend Nathan Ballingrud has a short story he co-wrote with Dale Bailey appearing in this year's The Best Horror of the Year, edited by Ellen Datlow. You can also find the same story in Lovecraft Unbound, an H.P. Lovecraft-inspired anthology that came out earlier this year.

In other news, we (along with the rest of the Southeast) had an epic snowstorm just before Christmas:

This came up to my knees. My knees!

(I don't think I've seen so much snow since the winter I was eight and got incredibly sick when I neglected to put on socks inside my snow boots.)

Then, on the morning of New Year's Eve, someone going 45 miles per hour rear-ended my car at a stoplight. I was (miraculously) unhurt for the most part, except for some minor injuries we expect to go away with physical therapy. My car was totaled, though, so I've spent the last few weeks scrambling for a new used car instead of entertaining you here. Now I've secured a new used car. Let the entertainment commence!

In other news, Loki the Rescue Cat has demonstrated mad mouse-catching skills. We found him tossing this around our living room the other night:

We are so proud!

I'd feel bad for it if he had caught it outside, but I don't want this in my house. Go, cats!

I'm a little concerned Pyewackett might be teaching Loki to read, though.
Literate cats are as much trouble as cats with opposable thumbs. They've made me promise to post my favorite books of the year next, under pain of a mousecatching strike.

LIES!

Okay, so first off, I am a horrible, horrible, shameless liar. I promised someone at work that I would read a certain Life-Affirming Modern Novel, which I have no intention of reading.

Wait.

Let me back up, because even that was a lie. I didn't promise them I would read it so much as allow myself to be guilt-tripped into borrowing a copy of said Life-Affirming Modern Novel after opening my big mouth and exercising my unfortunate tendency to praise other people's reading choices, even when I don't truly share their enthusiasm for said reading materials. It's an occupational hazard.

I'm going to beg the anonymous forgiveness of the internet here by saying that I have so little time for pleasure reading right now, what with library school in full swing, that I don't want to waste it on feel-good Americana when what I really want to read is fantasy and horror and Tokyo Vice, by Jake Adelstein.

I had an extra day off this week, which I shamelessly spent reading Fire, by Kristin Cashore, and watching Regency House Party with Jeremy. I think the link to Regency House Party kind of speaks for itself, but I have to take a moment to sing the praises of Kristin Cashore.

I really love well-done fantasy novels, but so few authors get the mix just right. Fantasy is one of those genres with an unfortunate tendency to stray into eye-rollingly silly territory, or else rip off Tolkien without nailing his mastery of world creation and majestic prose. So I say with a lot of respect and admiration that Kristin Cashore writes good, solid fantasy novels. At first they seem unassuming. She doesn't use a lot of verbal pyrotechnics or experiment with structure and point of view. Instead, she gives you the profound pleasure of reading a book with a clear and exciting plot, complex characters, themes that cause you to ponder ethical issues without being pedantic, and well-planned narrative arcs that resolve the events of the books without tying everything up in a neat bow. All I have to say is: Respect. And go pick up Kristin Cashore's books at your local library.

SUSHI AND AN EARLY REVIEW

Today at 3:30 in the morning, I was poking around the internet (read: not writing a paper for library school), and I came across an early review by Karen L. Newman of Tangent magazine for the December/January issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, in which my story, "Bad Matter" appears. The review, here, includes a short synopsis of each piece in the issue, including mine. Ack! Suddenly, the idea that people other than my immediate family and friends are going to be commenting on my work is very real. I'm happy with Newman's response to my story (Among other things, she says, "This story stands out, not just for the strong writing, but that it lacks a hopefulnes common in a lot of science fiction." Hooray!), and the company I'm in. I mean, the issue's cover has a flaming hellscape on it. How can you go wrong?

I haven't been blogging much this past month, but that doesn't mean I haven't been busy. As part of a project for work, I had to teach myself how to make sushi (did I mention that I have the greatest job in the world?), which meant that Jeremy and I ate a lot of it in September. The first few times, I used too much rice and unintentionally ended up making futomaki (i.e. giant sushi rolls), but once I got the hang of it, my sushi actually ended up looking a more or less like what I've eaten at restaurants. Believe me, I was more surprised than you are. After I figured out how to make the roll cooperate with me, I ran across the house to Jeremy's office shouting "I did it! I did it!" and made him come look at what I had done. Here, as proof, is a sashimi tuna, avocado, and cucumber roll I made:

It tasted pretty good, too, and it looks like I managed not to give either of us any intestinal parasites! Always a plus. Still, you'd probably rather go to Zen Sushi if you're in Asheville and craving sushi. If you're planning to make your own, though, you should visit Foreign Affairs Oriental Food Market in East Asheville. It's a small, family-owned Asian food market run by some of the nicest people on the planet. Really. They gave me great advice about the kind of rice, rice oil, and other materials I needed to make good sushi, as well as where I could find sashimi tuna.

In other news, my (not so) little sister and brother were in town for a Decemberists concert at the Thomas Wolfe Auditorium late last month. We had a great time, although the sound was a little off during the first part of the show. Jeremy and I had travelled to Raleigh at the beginning of the summer to catch one of their earlier shows in the current tour, and were completely blown away. The band played all the way through "The Hazards of Love" their current album/"folk opera," and then came back for a second set. I've spent a lot of breath gushing about the Decemberists in past posts, so I won't make you suffer through more of it now. But I will post these photos.

Colin Meloy, in full rock god mode.
(No, I wasn't that close to the stage, but I was close enough that my camera's relatively crappy zoom lens was able to take this picture.)

Also, I grew this pumpkin. In my garden. Not on my person.





Last, Loki the rescue cat would like to remind you that he is adorable and he owns the ottoman.Actually, both the cats are pretty damn adorable.And if you've seen me with cat hair all over my clothes, now you know why.

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS

(I.E. NO, I REALLY HAVE A GOOD EXCUSE FOR NOT POSTING ANYTHING IN AUGUST)

I hit a writing snag in August, so none of the three short stories I started during that month have turned into anything I'd want another human being to see. I tried to take some time off to recharge myself by reading, but that didn't work out so well. I mean, I read a lot of books, including The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger, and Dead Until Dark, by Charlaine Harris (verdict: I liked the first season of the HBO series better. Blasphemy! I know.), but I couldn't even finish editing the story I wrote in July, much less write something new. The truth might be that I'm a horrible writer destined to never finish anything, but I'd prefer to blame my sudden, paralyzing writer's block on Important Announcement #1:

Important Announcement #1: I am going to library school.
After my quarter-life freak-out last year, I decided to enroll in grad school to earn my Master of Library Science degree. I'm going to be doing this online, while working full-time, so that's naturally going to cut into the amount of time I have for blogging. Never fear! You can keep yourself entertained by reading my friend Stephanie Perkins's exciting and and perinially entertaining blog, Natural/Artificial. Or you can immerse yourself in the work of the marvelous Kate Beaton, mistress of the comic arts and devotee of all things historic and literary, at Hark, a Vagrant. (You can see one of my favorites here.) If those two don't keep you entertained, I'm sorry, you're a lost cause.

Important Announcement #2: My short story, "Bad Matter," is going to be coming out in the December/January issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction this year. Woo hoo! My friends and family have been asking me about this ever since I sort of called everyone I know and told them about selling my first story to an actual, real, live magazine. F&SF also bought the rights to a second story, "Amor Fugit," though I won't know when that one will be published for a while yet.

I was telling my mother about the second story when she and two of my siblings came to visit earlier this summer. My mother had read my first story, which is set on a space station, but not the second, which is most definitely not. I should mention, for the record, that my mother is not a fan of science ficiton or fantasy. I think my own love for it kind of baffles her, but she's curious, all the same, in a very motherly way. Our conversation went something like this.

Me: I just finished another story.

Mom: Oh, what's it about?

Me: Well, it's kind of a love story. . .

Mom: (excited) In space?!

I love my mom.

Important Announcement #3: This is by far the most groundbreaking, most momentous of tonight's announcements. I'll give you some space to prepare yourselves. . .




(Are you sitting down?)

I learned to make boba tea!

For those of you who haven't experienced the wonder of boba tea, it is a sweet drink popular throughout Asia. You can fix it any number of different ways, but its most distinguishing characteristic is the presence of tapioca pearls resting at the bottom of the drink. I like mine with black tea and milk. I fell in love with it at a party my roomate and I went to in college, and I've been pining after it ever since. So far, I haven't been able to find good boba tea in Asheville, so I broke down and decided to make my own.

I found my recipe here, although you may want to cut down on the amount of sugar called for in the syrup component, unless you're part fruit fly or something. I was planning to take pictures of the drink I made in its finished state, but unfortunately, I drank it all. Here's a picture of what it would have looked like, if I had exercised enough self-control to photograph it before drinking every last drop.

(image source here)

Look at the milky tea goodness! Look at those giant, gummy, black tapioca pearls! Look at the ginormous straw you get to drink it out of! This is not just a drink, it is a multisensory experience. If you're one of my friends, I am planning to inflict this on you at some point.

THE BEST KIND OF WEIRD

I've always been more of a novel-loving girl when it comes to literary preferences, but lately I've been reading more short stories. Maybe my attention span is beginning to slip, or maybe I'm beginning to appreciate an art form I had previously neglected. You know me. You decide. I've dipped into Michael Chabon's Werewolves in Their Youth and several volumes of The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror before, but this winter I opened Pretty Monsters, a short story collection by Kelly Link, and read it cover to cover. Kelly Link is the editor of one of my favorite literary zines, the irrepressibly weird Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet. It also turns out she writes exactly the kind of story I'll roll over and beg for.

Pretty Monsters is marketed as a collection for young adults, but it contains some crossover from her adult collections, Stranger Things Happen and Magic for Beginners. Some highlights from Pretty Monsters: "The Wizards of Perfil," "The Faery Handbag" (which won a Hugo award), "The Specialist's Hat," and "The Constable of Abal." Her stories are full of death, humor, strange magic, and childhoods gone awry, as well as experiments with poems and lists sprinkled into the stories' structure. If you know me, you know I'm a sucker for this kind of thing.

The best thing about reading Kelly Link is that, for a writer reading her work, she has this strange, alchemical quality of simultaneously being fabulously talented and not making you feel like you should never open up your laptop again. Let me back up and explain. I love Michael Chabon's writing. His plots are inventive and the way he can write a sentence takes my breath away. But he's so good, I close his books and feel like there's no point in writing anything, ever, because even if I spend my whole life trying, I'll never write anything remotely near that good. But for some reason I can't entirely explain, when I close Kelly Link's books, I feel like I want to go out and try writing something. Okay, so it won't be as good as "The Specialist's Hat," but hey, at least I'm not a hopeless case. I think this aftertaste of hopefulness might have something to do with the way you can see the fingerprints of real effort on her stories. These aren't little ditties she knocked off in an afternoon because she's just that brilliant; they're clearly something she spent time perfecting.

Then, moving more into the range of pure, green, artistic envy, there's Karen Russell. My friend Nathan recommended her short story collection, St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves, to me earlier this year. I kept checking it out of the library, and then letting it sit on my desk until it was due, without ever reading it. That is, until about two weeks ago, when I sat down to read the first story, "Ava Wrestles the Alligator," over my lunch break.

Karen Russell writes about the natural world in a way that's half in and half out of reality. It's beautiful and disgusting, and you're never sure when a seemingly normal situation is going to take a turn for the wonderfully bizarre. I could watch her write sentences all day long. She's been in Granta and The New Yorker, and she was only 25 when Random House published her collection of short stories in 2006. I'm used to being younger than the people whose books I read, so it was a little bit of a shock to turn to her biography and find out how young she was. By all means, go out and find her book immediately, but don't read the biography. It will only make you feel woefully inadequate, unless you're Michael Chabon.

A SIMPLE EQUATION

+
+
+
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That is all.

AT LAST!

I came home from work last Tuesday and opened my mailbox to find a letter from the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction sitting on top of a neat pile of bills and junk mail.

Le sigh, I thought. Another rejection.

I sang a little song about getting rejection letters to make myself feel better and started plotting where I would send my short story next as I unlocked the door. I plopped the bills down on the kitchen table, petted the cats, put away the groceries I bought on the way home, and only then sat down to open the mail.

The letter from F&SF felt heavier than my previous rejection letters. Maybe they liked the story enough to include an encouraging note about how the story wasn't for them, but I should try again later, I thought.

I slit open the envelope, unfolded the letter, and promptly dropped it. It was not a rejection letter. It was a contract and a check. To the dismay of both cats, I screamed like a twelve-year-old and did a dance. After I managed to calm myself down enough to regain the ability to read, I found a copy of the following previously published article by Susan Elizabeth Lyons enclosed:

Women Writing Science Fiction: Some Voices From the Trenches

The article addresses the issue of whether or not a gender bias exists in the science fiction and fantasy publishing industry, and includes interviews with well-know women writers, including one of my all-time favorite authors, Ursula LeGuin.

The gist of all this is that my short story "Bad Matter" will be appearing in F&SF sometime in the next three years, according to the contract, but more likely in nine to 12 months, according to Writer's Market's profile of F&SF.

Considering one of my friends just landed a two-book contract with a major publishing house (yay, Stephanie!), and another is an award-winning short story author, I'm very, very aware of how far I still have to go as a writer. And also, I'm feeling very, very paranoid at the moment. What if they bought my story, but never publish it? What if they only bought it out of pity? What if society collapses and there are no more science fiction magazines at all? I felt the same way last year when I had accepted my current job, which I absolutely love, but hadn't started there yet. What if the whole interview process was a dream? What if they looked back at my resume and decided they didn't want me after all? What if they decided to eliminate my position altogether before I started?

So, the long and short of it is that I'm trying not to get overly excited about this, in case Something Horrible happens between now and the publication date. At the same time, having my first short story published in a national magazine isn't small potatoes for me. I have to crow about it a little bit. But now I've done my happy dance (also frightening to the cats), and hopped up and down, and called my mother, so it's back to my laptop. Because the worst thing I can do is get complacent and stop pushing myself to write as best I can, even if it isn't up to par with Ursula LeGuin, or Kelly Link, or my incredibly talented friends.

(Thanks, by the way, to Stephanie for convincing me to do NaNoWriMo last November. I don't think I would have finished writing the story if I hadn't gone through that experience. And thanks to Jeremy, who could have killed me after I made him read my 11th draft, but didn't, and also to our mutual friend Nathan, for writerly feedback. I probably wouldn't have sent anything to F&SF if he hadn't offered some much-needed advice and feedback.)