Before the discovery of insulin in 1921 (by a Canadian! Who says the Canadians don’t do anything useful!), by the time you were diagnosed with type I diabetes, you maybe had a couple of months to live. In my case, since I was lame and didn’t go to the hospital until I dropped into a […]
How Much Is it Worth To Extend Your Life? (and, for how long?) Read More »
Three units of insulin for the evening meal really is too much, even when you’re having a square of low-carb chocolate afterwards. My doctor can also kiss my ass when it comes to this insulin resistance thing. I’m down to 25 u of the long-lasting stuff in the morning, 3-5 units of the short acting
I realize what’s missing. I haven’t been writing. Opening word files, staring at dialoge, moving around sentences. But no long stretches of writing. No long stays in somewhere-else. How quickly I fall apart.
When I Can Take A Breath…. Read More »
Jed’s got some thoughts up on gender bias in the SF/F sub/accepetance rate. I found this tidbit a bit close to home for myself: …it seems plausible to me (though I have only anecdotal evidence) that there’s potential for vicious circles here; if women perceive a magazine as not being a good place for women
… when I wonder why on earth I haven’t deleted this damn blog yet. EDIT: Oh, nevermind. *Now* I remember…
And then there are days…. Read More »
No email. No phone messages. No one in the house but me. I realize it’s been a long time since I had breathing space, time to just sit and be still. There have been moments; pale, fleeting moments where I believed that this time, yes, this time, I’d find my narrative, I’d piece together all
Sat on the bus on the way home and dreamed up who’d I’d cast in a movie about the story of my life. The song I hope I’ll be able to roll during the ending credits is The Beatles’ “Baby You’re a Rich Man.”Hey, I’m a fantasy writer. This is what I do.
The Story of My Life (continuing with the "all about me" line of posting) Read More »
A – Africa, of course. I did my graduate work in South Africa from 2002-2003. I was based out of Durban, which is right there on the Indian Ocean and has a fabulous and famous waterfront area that you walk past a bunch of brothels and porn shops to get to (prostitution is legal: pimps
Bumped into Mr. T, one of the architects, in the breakroom. He’s been on a “work imbalance” schedule the last few weeks, meaning he’s not laid off, but he’s only allowed to work a couple days a week. “How are you feeling?” he said. “Pretty good, actually.” “So what was it you had? You had