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These are the questions that plague me.

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

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

Because it’s good for me.

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.

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…

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.