lagilman | var & sundry

Writing.

So I got my proofs for "Talent" from Realms of Fantasy yesterday (tenatively scheduled for the October issue, which means that I will have three stories hitting the street that month. Feast or famine...). And while the typeset is reasonably clean, I wonder once again at the teasers they come up with. It indicates a certain... lack of understanding about the story, to say the least.

Fortunately, I'm a Professional. I can (and will) Fix It.

In other news, I'm moving ahead on the YA project, although more slowly than I would like. Need to kick it up to the next level. But CGAG has the first forty pages, so feedback will be coming to kick my ass.

The bad news is that I don't think I'm going to make the deadline for an anthology I was invited to submit for. The story is sketched out, but I don't have the ending yet, and I can't spare the time to do what needs to be done. Will have to abase myself before the editor and apologize. Bother. Wanted to be in that antho.

The day job.

The job itself continues to amuse. I was overheard yesterday to utter "stop him before he Motivates again!" The joys of being a card-carrying cynical observer working for a former motivational speaker. But the work is interesting (I'm learning how to do patent requests [from Doc's Science to my English to the patent lawyer's Legalese] and not taxing my brain once I leave the office. And my co-workers entertain and amuse. And find me amusing as well, I'm sure. It's a healthy space to be in, right now. Gods know, I'm getting a LOT of character-fodder.

And then there's sports. Specifically tennis, not golf (avert! avert!). Go Martina! Okay, so she didn't take on one of the Hot players. She still soundly defeated someone half her age. More power to her. Talent still shines, and it's especially nice to see in the "Youth is Queen" atmosphere of women's professional tennis.

Apparently, in the aftermath McEnroe has been saying he could take the Williams sisters on. Shades of Bobby Riggs. But to show how far we've come, the(male) djs who were talking about this hooted the idea down soundly, all
agreeing that either one of the sisters could whoop his ass soundly. And that his usually entertaining (well, to me, anyway, because he has the talent to back 'em up) tantrums would then sound like whining.

And one last random observation -- driving to work today, at a red light I was flanked by a racing gren Jag and a cherry red Bimmer. And then a silver Mercedes pulled up behind me. Poor Darcy started to get the rarified-atmosphere shakes.

But then the light changed, and Darce blew 'em away. Hey, I get my amusements where I can....