Don’t even say it. I KNOW. I have a LOT of novels that I should go polish and send out before I write a new one. But it’s so shiny! And I’ll let you look at some of the sketchy, unfinished eyecandy, because since I can’t show you the other things I drew tonight (SEKRIT!), I didn’t bother scanning them. And you need SOMETHING, since my website fought with me on Tuesday and cheated you out of your adorable pibble fix.
That’s Toulouse. He’s from a short story I wrote that I’m now in the process of expanding into a novel… he’s too fun to only have 5,000 words of him. For a tiny moment, I was worried about making it into a novel, and I started second-guessing myself, and then the universe curve-balled me with a Magic Eight Ball. The last thing I saw before I got a black eye was the little triangle inside it, which said “WRITE IT ALREADY.”
Also, speaking of me getting injured, perhaps you’ll notice my typing is better! YES! My finger splints are off! And while I am happy to report my middle finger healed perfectly and now behaves like a middle finger should, teaching a lesson to crappy drivers, my ring finger is actually worse. Hahahahaha! HOW IS THAT A THING. It’s okay, I’ll probably just cut it off and hang it over my doorway in a bag with some rosemary and possum hair to ward off evil.
I wanted to share my conjecture about how Clarion West (and perhaps Clarion UCSD) puts together their classes, based entirely on my experience.
The workshop is run by humans who have been doing this for a very long time. In fact, running the workshop is a bit like a long, slow workshop in how to run workshops. They are now savvy enough not to judge applications merely by quality. (If that was the case, I may not have gotten in. 
There were certainly times during my six weeks that I felt like the village idiot.) They put together the group not only by skill, or by potential, but by how what you’ve shared of yourself fits with the other applicants.
If this isn’t your year, it might be because your class didn’t apply yet, or they aren’t ready. These people aren’t just chosen because they’re “as good as” each other; they go together like a jigsaw puzzle. If everyone is lucky, it will fit together so tightly that you’ll be learning from (and loving) each other long after the workshop technically ends. There are always exceptions, and it’s possible it won’t be the magical experience I had, but my class basically believes the workshop staff are psychic angel unicorns that fart gold.
The 2012 pie was baked with a lot of good, if quirky, ingredients. There can only be so much salt, and never enough cherries, but if it’s a desser pie instead of say, a quiche, maybe not pepper at all. You might be pepper. But next year if there’s broccoli and cheese applying, I hope you still are too, because broccoli and cheese might need you. This ridiculous metaphor brought to you by I haven’t had breakfast yet.
The hero in this story isn’t the pit bull… he was a victim, and now he’s a lucky little ball of (grown-back) fur. I like my own species more today than I did yesterday, after reading about his ordeal and recovery. <3
Read Sparky’s story here.
Tired from traveling, so cheating agian. Also, reached limit od tims i’ll bakcspace today because my fingers are tied so deal! 
(Back to noemal posts next week)
Thursday, February 28, 2013
And the fourth of my contracts is in, so I may shriek merrily:
Steve Berman accepted my story, “Midnight at the Feet of the Caryatides,” for the anthology Where Thy Dark Eye Glances: Queering Edgar Allan Poe.
“Midnight at the Feet of the Caryatides” is about courage, love, and revenge at a Victorian-ish boarding school haunted by ghosts and the bullies who made them. Steve’s suggestions improved this story so much that I’m about three times as excited about it now as I was the first time I wrote “the end.” I can’t wait for you to read it! I’ll remind you when it comes out.
If I wasn’t at Rainforest I’d scan & upload some illustrations/sketches I have lying about in our library. Instead, you can have the cover image I stole out of Steve’s blog:
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
So far, 2013 has been good for me in the realm of short fiction:
- Podcastle accepted “My Dignity in Scars” (first seen in Strange Horizons, March 2012) for their fine podcast
- “Sinking Among Lilies” (first seen in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Issue #92) was included in The Year’s Best Dark Fantasy & Horror 2013 by Paula Guran at Prime Books
- “Castle of Masks” (first seen at a now-defunct press who never paid me, by so few people that it doesn’t really count) was accepted for Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales, an anthology also edited by Guran for Prime
I also sold another short story to an anthology, but I have a rule that I never shriek merrily about my sales until I sign a contract, so that one will remain a secret for now. I am basically constipated with glee, though, because I’ve wanted for years to be published by this press. I will tell you it has parkour, graffiti, and fingerless ghosts in a Victorian-era boarding school. And LOVE.
I’ve also written two new short stories this year, one about a thief who can open a door and walk into any of the rooms adjacent to it (he abuses this most often to skip flights of stairs) and another about an orphan who tries to join a gang to protect her from the dangers of a pirate city. I’m hoping to finish another story this weekend at Rainforest, about a pregnant drag queen in an underground Las Vegas haunted by evil pigs. She doesn’t want to, but she ends up fighting crime.
And I typed this entry very carefully because I do still have two finger splints. My wph is usually about 2,000 if I know where I’m going on a story, but it’s probably going to take me longer than usual to finish my fabulous drag queen cave adventure. Thirty-one days left!
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Yeah, I got lazy. For every uplifting story I show you, I read three or more heartbreaking stories of neglect and abuse. Since I have to travel tomorrow, I’d prefer a low-stress Pit Bull Tuesday.
Here are photos of Hanzo and Briar, who will guard my boyfriend for me while I’m gone, in case anyone tries to steal him because he’s so sexy.
(Continued)
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
“There were flames shooting down the hallway,” said Westenberger. “If Baby hadn’t woken Evelyn up, I don’t think either one of us would have come out of it.”
The women escaped, but their other five dogs were scared and stuck inside, so once again, Baby came to the rescue.
Read the full article here.
There’s also a video, in which the Huffington Post’s official, paid village idiot claims he’s “generally scared of pit bulls,” as if every pit bull has to save seven lives by risking her own before he’ll stop being scared–or as if he could possibly know whether or not any pit bull he sees has committed a heroic act. Does he think dogs grow stars on their bellies after they become heroes? If anyone knows that guy, throw a drink in his face for me.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
My little sister sent my dogs a package, which they TOTALLY loved. Look at the full entry to see the video! (Continued)
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Two of my fingers are probably broken. I don’t know for sure because this third-world hellhole I live in doesn’t apply my taxes toward basic needs like GETTING MY BROKEN HAND X-RAYED but anyway, I know what you’re going to ask next. Go ahead, ask it. I’m going to lie, though. And also probably not correct my typos because i don’t have time for thqt crap.
I am too busy being metal. (Pretty sure rocking out with broken bones is approved by the council.)
DEUCES
ETA: the two weeks was until I could afford to buy real corporate-manufactured splints from The Man, which is decidedly not metal, but will continue for the rest of the six-week suggested healing time.
