The Semester Has Begun

I've had a relatively light semester so far -- two classes on Tuesday, three on Thursday, and only a tiny one-hour class on Mondays. Only one Comp class also, which really lightens the workload. (27 comp students instead of 81, which is what I had last semester.)

I'm enjoying teaching grammar the most, obviously, though I met with my fiction writers for the first time last night and the class looks promising.

The Kid is taking WLIT up at their university. I'm having a great deal of vicarious fun via that avenue -- what they're reading, how they like it. WLIT is my jam. Right now they're reading Giglamesh.

Jury duty has been more annoying than troublesome, so far. I've only had to report once, but the reporting dates keep changing, so I never know when I might have to miss class, or if. This makes planning ahead difficult.

Also Dr. Skull needs dental work, the sort that they knock you out for, so I'll have to go with him. More planning, more interruptions.

All of this is making it difficult to write. (My real complaint.) But maybe things will settle down soon.

No News

Not much happening here, which is good -- I need monotony in order to write effectively.

The Kid continues well, and is making excellent art.

I'm working on revisions of Fault Lines.

The weather is (finally) cooling off. This week we had highs near 80 again, but tonight the low is in the 30s. I work so much better in winter than summer.

Thanksgiving approaches. The Kid's uncle will be in town, and the Kid will be home as well.

After TNX, only a week and a half of semester left. I am really looking forward to the winter break.

A picture of me at my writing group

Here's an updated pic of my AND my writing group

The occasion, besides our monthly meeting, is the sixth birthday of the gentleman sitting next to me. From the left, that is Carrie, a fiction writer/poet; her son, age six; me; Jan, who makes puppets and performs puppetry; Ardith, who directs plays; Ron, a cartoonist and a SF writer, as well as Jan's husband; Don (seated), a poet/fiction writer; Dr. Skull; and behind Dr. Skull, Adam, a poet. Not pictured, because he is taking the picture, is Bill, a fiction writer, whose wonderful house this is.

As a side note, I am learning more about autoimmune diseases than I would have thought it was possible to know. (As an academic, my response to anxiety is, of course, research.)

My semester

...so far

Y'all, I took an overload. This means I have 82 Comp II students.

Also 17 fiction workshop students, and 26 Global Lit students.

And I'm working on the Fault Line edits.

So basically I'll see you in December.

The Five Stages...

I finished a short story. This is the first story I've written (started and completed) since the vile one won the election.

I might be emerging from the depression stage. MAYBE.

Whether it's a good story or not, meh -- I'm still deep enough in the depression stage that everything looks terrible. But it's a competent story, and it's finished. I'll take that.

The trouble with leaving depression is that I'm supposed to move onto the acceptance. And frankly, yeah, I don't see how to do that. Accept Trump as our president? What are you, nuts?

Could This Be Good News at Last?

Why, yes, it is!

I have sold a story to Fantasy & Science Fiction. I cannot even tell you how pleased I am. F&SF is one of the "big three," the top SF print magazines, and also this story, "The History of the Invasion Told in Five Dogs," is one I like a lot.

The editor, C.C. Finley, was just great, working with me during the submission process.

I'll let you know when it comes out!

My First Lie

Over on her blog, Madeline Robbins writes about her first memory, My Mother Went Out for Lemons. Go read it; it's a great story.

It also prompts me to write about my first memory -- or, well, my first memory that's a coherent story.

Theory of the Leisure Class

I sit down to write.

• The cat wants fed.
• The dog wants out.
• The kid wants a grilled cheese sandwich, which I make better than anyone.
• The dog wants in.
• The laundry wants folding.
• The dog wants out.
• The other cat wants water (she will only drink out of the faucet, set to trickle).
• The dog wants in.
• The kid says the sandwich was wonderful, could she have another?
• The laundry wants moved to the dryer.
• The dog wants out.
• The cat is bored.
• What about all those midterms I still have yet to grade?
• The dog wants in.
• Dr. Skull wonders what we're having for dinner.