HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!
One of my favorite holidays!
So - have fun, dress up, pass out candy, eat the leftover candy...... schedule dentist appointment for next week...
~S
Just found out that a flash fiction piece of mine placed second in a contest. It's not first but it's not an honorable mention either. Needless to say, I'm tickled. I'll post the information and the link just as soon as it's up.
~S
I was watching the news last night and heard what has to be the greatest case for a sentance of mandatory sterilization. A woman left an infant (I did not catch how old) in a crib for three weeks - alone. The baby, miraculously, is not dead. A neighbor found him. The mother had told a friend that the baby was with a sitter. Instead, he was slowly starving to death. The baby is in the hospital now and I hope she has a creative judge - one willing to make an odd sentance. This woman should not be allowed to have children - not even allowed to create them. CPS has it's good points but, how many kids slip through the cracks, how many parents are so good at charming the agents? There has to be a point where these parents are just so bad that they get to be sterilized. When my son was a baby, I could barely leave him for three hours - and that was only if he was with relatives and had everything he could possibly need. I can't imagine a mother who could leave her child for three weeks. It just flat out makes me sick.
~S
1997 - "Hope" and "My Singular Vice" two poems in the Spring 1997 issue of The Threshold.
1998 - "My Redemption" a short story in the Spring 1998 issue of The Threshold.
2004 - "A Night Out" a poem in Scorched Earth Publishing.
"Prelude to Morning," "Impatient," "Self Imprisonment," three poems in Penwomanship.
"Smoke Dragons" a poem in the October 2004 issue of Twilight Times.
"Thanksgiving Day" a short story, winner of the Thanksgiving 2004 contest at Dabbling Mum.
2005 - "More than Just A Card" nonfiction in the Front Porch in January 2005.
"Native Winter" a poem in the January 2005 issue of Twilight Times.
"Vow" a poem that placed second in Wild Child Publishing's "All For Love" contest in February 2005.
"Blind" a poem that placed second in DeSilva's News Valentines Day contest in 2005
"Reclaimed" a poem in the April 2005 issue of Twilight Times.
"Fated" a short story in the June 2005 issue of Lyrica.
A Letter to my Mother, nonfiction letter in Celebrations: Love Notes to Mothers - released 2005
"The IW Marks the Spot" nonfiction in Better Fiction Magazine July 2005
"In Dreams" a poem in Panic in August 2005
Coming Soon:
"Temptress" a poem to appear in Fantastic Stories of the Imagination
"Blood on the Sands" a short story to appear in ShadowSword.
Today is a strange day. It's been ten years today since my mother died. I suppose I expected that the day would lose it's power some after ten years. It has not. The first year, I was too numb to feel anything - just wanted somebody to hold me, make me feel like I was alive. The second year, my first year away from what was left of 'home', I was alone and miserable and locked in my dorm room until friends decided that it was time for me not to be alone. That was good. The third year, my first year with Rob, I was not alone at all - but still miserable. The fourth year I don't remember much about, it was a day spent huddled in my bed watching sappy movies. The fifth year, my son was not yet a month old. It struck hard then - she was gone, it had been five whole years and she was missing everything - her daughter's marriage, her first grandchild - everything. The years after that are a blur. My son never let me get too low, always there with a ready smile and a book for me to read. Now, he is five, hitting that stage where he is too big to be held, especially by mama. And again, I keep seeing how much she is missing. It's worse now because I feel like I'm forgetting her. I've never let the scab heal because if it scarred over, I might forget. I don't ever want to forget. She was my only friend for so long, my only support. I didn't learn to stand until she was gone. We held each other up and then, suddenly, I was a chair with only two legs.
~S
It seems I'm just stuck in a rut... there are all sorts of interesting things running through my head but I can't seem to find the motivation to put them on paper or disc. I'm not usually like this and it is a little bothersome. I wish I knew how to break this barrier. I've toyed with some of the same ideas for weeks, playing with them, shaping them, expanding on them in my head and yet, nothing that doesn't pertain to the novel I am beginning on Nov. 1st, for Nanowrimo, has made it to paper. Rather agrivating as some of the ideas, I'm rather fond of. Every time I pick up my pen - the urge drains out of me. Every time I sit at my keyboard - there seems to be something else that needs my attention first. This blogging thing is a bit different - it's like any one of my journals except for the fact that this one is a public one. It should be easier to do this... Maybe tomorrow things will look different.
~S
Just a note to let anyone who happens by know that the latest edition of the Imaginary Word is up and running.
~S
So, I seem to be having a 'go eat worms' kind of day... if you don't get the reference - you had a very deprived childhood devoid of all sorts of really dumb songs... Fortunately, I at least make myself laugh. Tomorrow, I'll put together the new edition of The Imaginary Word, something I love doing. Tonight I am throwing myself a bit of a pity party for no reason but that I feel like it. October tends to bring these sorts of shifts with it, has for the last ten years. It just happens that today, I am feeling more down than usual - like no one hears me - or cares what I have to say. Ideas that get shot down, comments made that go unnoticed, phone calls left unreturned... It only serves as a reminder to me of all the people I've lost to time, distance, or death. And that's not to count those I lost just because I could not find a balance between life and myself for several years. October is just like this. Up and down, beautiful and horrible. Sort of like when I dream of dragons - I love them and fear them, even in my dreams.
~S
At the petstore. We went to pick up crickets and pinkies - for the geckos, skinks, snake, and new praying mantis we caught - and somehow I found myself a job baking a birthday cake for the owner's dog. Not too bad. Strange but not bad at all. I'll have to find a couple of recipes but I can't see that it'll be a problem. Of course, me being me, my mind started racing and now I'm wondering just how viable it would be to start up a little made to order cake baking service for pets. I was never one to do something only part way - always with the big goals. Always, in the end, falling short. hm. Probably won't do anything more than bake this cake but the idea will stew in my head awhile. One never knows when something like that will come in handy.
~S
This past week has been more hectic than usual. My son's school's open house, my husband's best friend's wedding, and a few ideas that won't leave me alone. That's not to mention the virus on my computer that caused me a great many problems and five hours on the phone to various help centers. Fortunately, they were all 24 hour toll free lines and at 1 am, there's no wait. It's just been one of those weeks.
I would like to know - if anyone reads this and cares to answer please do - why must anyone decry an entire genre of fiction? I've read several bits over the last few weeks - forums, articles, reviews, the like - that absolutely bash science fiction and fantasy. Why? What is the point? There are some real nonsense books in the mainstream genres too, books that are so bad that even I - collector of all books - would get rid of them. What makes the speculative fiction genres the collective punching bag? Most, if not all, of my favorite stories (especially as a child) were fantasy or science fiction. Am I just odd, to read it all? A few of these instances have really ticked me off - obviously or I wouldn't be ranting about them would I? How can someone complain that there is too much science fiction infesting the internet? Not too long ago - the internet WAS science fiction. How many advances have stemmed from the minds of science fiction writers? I came across this site: http://www.technovelgy.com/ take a look and tell me then that science fiction is nonsense. How many of these things would not have been attempted if the imagination of some writer somewhere hadn't planted the seed of possibility?
OK - done with that. If I don't stop, I'll get even more annoyed and I would really rather get back to work on one of the four short stories I have sitting, ready to be typed up.
~S
Well, I've not decided if its a good thing yet - but I've signed up for Nanowrimo this year. I'll probably post at least my progress here once it begins. I'm looking forward to it, if only to see if I can actually do it. I know I can do it in three - rough draft - I'd like to see if I can complete a rough in one month. It'll be interesting.
~S
Rejections:
Andromeda Spaceways -two poems- 9/4/05
Mastadon Dentist - 3 poems 9/8/05
Interzone - short story - 9/11/05
Bathtub Gin - 3 poems - 9/15/05
Strange Horizons - 1 short story - 9/17/05
Neo-opsis - 1 short story - 9/19/05
Chatahoochie Review - 1 short story - 9/24/05
Kenyon Review - 3 poems - 9/30/05
Maissonneuve - flash - Non response Rejection
Acceptances:
ShadowSword: Blood On the Sands - short fantasy
Not too terrible... but still...
~S
As much as I've been trying to avoid it, the year has turned the corner to fall and entered October. There was a time when October was my favorite month of the year. For the most part it still is - if I could remove just one day from October. My mom died on the 19th ten years ago this year - which of course is why I've been ruminating over it so much. The big anniversaries hit me the hardest. Fall air has always smelled the best - hints of greenwood smoke laced with burning lichen from bonfires and campfires, the crisp edge of not-so-green foliage, the chill that makes it feel clean. No humidity to weigh it down, no snow to chase me indoors, and, of course, it is the month of magic. This is the month where anything can be real - if you believe it hard enough. I love that. This month - this year - I may sink down in my little hidey hole for a few days but I am not going to let this month pass me by without a little magic for me. I say it every year but, this year, it's going to be different for me. Perhaps I'll dig out my broom and try to fly.
~S