Con Time

My Conference is in a week, and last night came the news that the editor I had a meeting with has had to cancel her participation. It's a bit of a blow, though I know that must sound pretty overdramatic.

Registration time this year came right in my period of unemployment. I had finished the novel, was (much more actively) querying, and was excited for this event, my annual fire-starter, fun time, and opportunity. Last year, I got a request for a partial out of my agent meeting, and this year an agent from the agency which handles Sharon Kay Penman was on the list.

I queried this particular woman, with mention of SKP and another histfic writer on their roster, and noted the upcoming Conference, where I'd like to meet her. She couldn't have been nicer when she told me SKP was in fact one of the owner's first clients ever, and the other one had been her ASSISTANT for eight years - and that, actually, other than those two, they really don't do histfic. But please say hi at the Conference.

Will do.



Agh, but - *sigh*



I hike up my boots and look at the Conference list, and find that the EDITOR appearing as well lists historical fiction first in her area of expertise, go "WHEEEEEE" and sign up for her. You know, really, I said to myself, this is better than an agent - because with an agent, the conversation is black or white (give me a partial, or flat rejection), whereas maybe an editor will say, "Okay have you queried X, Y, or Z yet?" or "you know, for your kind of non-romance historical writing, being a woman, I know an agent who could sell you just right."

I mean, sure, that's the realm of fantasy in some ways. But my writing is good, my story has such a hook, and frankly I am, as a property myself, not without some interesting aspects. And, again, an editor might have a wider scope to offer, if she were interested enough to do so. An agent - even if interested, the only option at a Con is "maybe".

Maybe was wildly exciting last year. But I think it is off the table now. As is anything else.


***


So when the editor canceled, I have to say, I was thinking, "well of course." So now I have a Conference to go to with nobody who handles my genre. In some ways, this is freeing. But it's a little disappointing.

The agent I have chosen to meet with now, I would say almost certainly has no interest in histfic. Her house is the only one of those entities appearing which even MENTIONS histfic at all - so the outside chance here is that someone else at that venue might be a referral. I can't say my hopes are high for this, but it is still another pitch opportunity, and I prefer that to the querying process. Living eyes - even if they are not really looking to see what I'm showing - is STILL more fulfilling than blindly wondering, "Do I look like a complete moron here?"



I am bummed out.

But I'm also still excited.

And not because, accidentally, it turns out next weekend will be a four-day-er. (Hey, thanks, Columbus!)

It's Amazing ...

... how much time you an spend on a job on cleanup work which should never become necessary to begin with. Backlogs built by technology, glitches in systems which cause data loss and rework - or just inquiring and having to re-inqure multiple times on items which require someone else's follow through.

The people both on my team and in my world, at work, are generally fairly amazing. But ALL of us, I think, find holdups and backtracks a significant part of every day.

I'm not musing about this in annoyance. It just almost ... impresses me, if you get the sense of the term. I'm interested how much of a modern workday consists of reworks.

500

My feedback rating on eBay is 499 right now.

What should my 500th purchase be ... ??

Four Hours Later ...

...

... still waiting.



*sigh*

At Last

The sky is growing grey and cool ... it's raining already at my mom's house ... and I am waiting for it to arrive here.

What a beautiful day it is!

Morning Delivery

Fifth morning in the past week - I woke up with a headache again.

Certain things about autumn allergy season, I would not mind living without.

News to Me

James Spader is in Wall Street, the movie which gave us "greed is good" - what I never knew was that he plays the ETHICAL guy in this movie swimming in smarm, deceit, and arrogance.

I had no idea he'd ever done that. At least not in the eighties!

Lathe of Heaven

I discovered by accident that Ursula K. LeGuin's "Lathe of Heaven" has been adapted twice.

The PBS version from 1980 was what I thought I had put on my Netflix qeue; imagine my surprise when I put it in the player and found Lukas Haas, Jimmy Caan, and Lisa Bonet. Huh.

So now the 1980 version is on the qeue next, and popped up to the top of the list. I have suspicions it is the better show.

LeGuin sits deep in my heart, most thanks to her novel, "The Left Hand of Darkness", which, in addition to being a fantastic story, happens to be an extremely well-written one too. LeGuin has a deftness I can't claim for myself (Left Hand is a couple-day read, fast-moving and intensely engaging ... my own first novel clocks in at 530 pages, with an extensive author's note to boot), but what she does in the space she uses is potent, thorough, exciting, fascinating. I'm not sure there is a better world-builder out there. Certainly there are few storytellers of her rank.

My ancient, much-thumbed "Darkness" is no longer in my hands; it made a deeply-felt gift in recent years. It's time I refreshed my library for this particular author. She is amazing. And "Birthday of the World" has been on my Wish List for too long without my purchasing it.

My Geek-ery Contains Multitudes

Have I been planning what to wear for my editor meeting on Friday, the 8th?

Yes.

Yes, I have.

It's the Most Wonderful Time ...

The writers' conference is coming.

Two weeks from right now, I will have had my editor meeting. With luck, I'll have met the nice agent who rejected me but asked me to talk with her.

Yay!

I love the Conference.

Workdaday

It started because I was seeking training. One of the duties of my job is to handle processes which result (or not) in people being reimbursed for expenses. Unlike many of the companies I work for, quite a few expenses are expected to come out of pocket first and be paid back later. So I take this responsibility pretty seriously: I'm messing with other people's money.

So I asked, and asked, and finally got the straight answer: there is no training.



Now, the system in which these things are done is fairly simple. I'm not trying to turn a molehill into a mountain. But even the simplest things, I have learned, aren't always *intuitive* - and it's always best to check and to learn.

Measure twice.

Cut once.

I may be paranoid. I may be persnickety. But when I am responsible for other people's money - and I know I will be HELD responsible -I am extremely conscientious and careful. If I am wary of the way billing is handled for my group, I am doubly cautious of the way my coworkers' money runs through my keyboard.



So there is no training.

I accept that this (I pray) means that the simplicity of the system IS simplicity, and that I am not going to go completely wrong here. But I accept this with a certain frustration, that my honest inquiries have met with apparent distaste.

Give me enough of your distaste, and I *will* develop some of my own - for you.


***


So it was a pretty rotten morning.


***


However, I am a remarkable woman. And I know MOST of the people I work with are under the impression I'm pretty great so far - and might even stand to improve and be just about worthwhile.

This sort of thing goes a long way with me.

And so I cleared out my invoicing inbox to the last solitary message.

I rock.

And so I accomplished quite a few fairly detailed technical build requests for one coworker.

I roll.

And so I made insane progress on a weekly housekeeping nightmare which recurs with alarming regularity - and rebuilt a document three times, in the process.

I am good like that.

And so I completed one piece of travel, and when the other one - more immediate - looked like it was unbookable, I spoke with a trusted senior team member, who said (a) don't book it and (b) don't call your boss on his vacation about it either. Good advice, both counts. I took both A and B.

I refuse to sink.


***


Days like this make me madder than the days I hadn't done my homework and would decide to holler at mom for a while. I *hate* days like this - or at least stuff like that morning incident brought on. I hate when work stymies, then adds insult to injury by way of pretty much actual INSULT, and gets me mad.

I resent being made to get mad.

And I find that - particularly at work! - the best thing to do with anger is to prove the buggers wrong. I don't know how to do my job?

WATCH ME DO IT, nimrods. Watch me do it right.



I had something to prove today.



By the end of the day ... I had very little left outstanding.

Amazing what you can accomplish when you're offended.



It's not my idea of a good motivational tool, mind you.

But to RESPOND to frustration with productivity?

Positively a transformative experience.

Very literally.


***


So there, you stupid MORNING. That'll larn ya.

Tyra. Honey.

Sugar.

Baby.

You know I love your product. You know I enjoy what a bat-splat crazy monstrosity you are.

Right?

But seriously.



Predatorial.

Still not a word, no matter HOW many times you, Nigel, and that terrifying stylist from Sex and the City say it.

Also, whoever the stylist was who dressed the girls in black Michael's craft store feathers from the cheapest bin in the back, and leftover Sandy's Makeover pants from Grease? Needs to be fired, for foisting that lame suggestion of "fallen angel" on my eyeballs. The girls managed to make Orange Jay look good.

And Orange Jay? Was wearing his wings upside down.

Yeesh.

DIANE MAJOR: THOUGHTKILLER

I crack up that this headline represents the post  page which comes up perhaps most frequently in Google's search results for my name. I can tell from the stats it's definitely not the most read, nor even *among* the most read posts on my blog. Still it does give me some amusement.

Here's a Question

I can reconstruct the possibilities which might lead to my going outside, when I first did today, and finding, say, a beer bottle or something on my car. Neighbors being sociable in their yard on a fine Saturday night - spilling into my driveway - someone leans on the car that doesn't belong to them on property that doesn't either.

Don't love it. But I could figure that out.

What I can't quite get my head around is how a glass of milk came to be sitting there.



And then I have to ask myself - why does THAT seem so bizarre?

Mysteries of life. At least the cup print is washed off.

*Shrug*

Hail the Conquering Hero

I return home triumphant, with gloves and a clean car. They did NOT vacuum my trunk, which they say they do, but dang if I am bothering to turn around and go get that done. I emptied it out and everything, but oh well. One supposes I can do *something* for myself.

Or - as is more likely - not really worry about the trunk's state of un-vacuum-ification. There's always that.

Ha-HAAAAAAAAA!!!

But I am not to be daunted! Big brother, I'm on the way now to get that gift. Oh, and get a car wash.

If I'm to squire my mom around town for her b-day, I needs must have a cleaner vehicle than I have now. Plus which, I just want a cleaner vehicle than I have now - and I am a bit sore for all the bending and stuff. If I'm a horrible, lazy person who doesn't wash my own dang car - I'm good for putting a few bucks in the local economy, right ... ?

???

At least it's on the way back from the gardening gloves store. So it's not like I'm burning gas just for the job.

Gardening Gloves

Man, the brand of gardeing gloves my mom wants for her birthday aren't easy to find. Huh!

Alone

For years, not having my partner has been a source of frustration. With knowing, but not "having" someone I waited 35 years to know, and whom I had prepared for. With being alone.

I'm independent, and proud of that fact.

But that fact leaves me vulnerable. Ultimately - utterly - vulnerable.

There will be noone to care for me. There will be nothing but my own resources. I have done well. I'm not convinced it will be well ... enough.

For fifteen years or so I have sufficed on myself.

The older I get, the more that frightens me.



I'm not angry at G-d because I can't have my toy. Not anymore.

I'm scared of death.

Or worse. The road to it.

Oh Yes

Regarding my reaction to "Young Adam" (and, frankly, a lot of other movies - the kind Ebert, much as I adore him, is most likely to swoon for).

This puts it just right - and perfectly describes a syndrome I attach to enormous swaths of twentieth century writing, and filmmaking even beyond that period:

Joe's sexuality ... is ... what makes Young Adam feel most dated. Its view of male narcissism, as expressed through erotic need, is not only uncritical but also pretentious. The film follows the novel (and many others like it) in assuming, rather than proving, that its hero's selfishness and failure offer clues to the human condition.

A. O. Scott, NY Times

Yeap. Tha's it.

Nerding

So I just do not feel like doing the housecleaning right now, and I don't intend to go out tonight, so that will keep for the evening. I've been watching "Young Adam" off and on (enh) and wandering a bit around the house.

Tried on the dress I bought to use for Hallowe'en. Like it; could stand to lose a hair for it to really fit a bit better. But I've lost a hair since buying it, so hope's not dead.

Then I started playing with the wig.

Yes, a month and a half before the night - I am distressing the wig I'll use in my costume.



Some might say I could spend my brief weekends more constructively.

Apart from knowing I need to do more querying - I'd argue I'm spending my time just about right.


Doooooooooorrrrrrrrrrkkkkkk ...