…or,

Hey Kij!
I went to the climbing wall today!

Shockingly, my motivation for doing this was not to climb onto the “women of sf&f==climbers” bandwagon, though reading about it on various friends pages of LJ has evoked the memories–and desire–again. I first thought of wanting to climb at age 15, when we camped next to the Maroon Bells near Aspen, Colorado. I was told then ( and confirmed now) that that particular range is way too dangerous for climbers, and I can accept that. I don’t have to climb that particular range, but I will always remember them as what inspired my desire to climb.

The excuse for years is that my hands are my money, and have been in the last several jobs I’ve worked. But when talking to Kij at the Nebulas she seemed to indicate at least some protection in the form of wrapping was available. So there weren’t any more excuses on the table, and she said a year of climbing will melt and hone my body into the essence of what it is, which sounds rather nice.

Tonight, I am the only one in the orientation class with zero climbing experience. I am already good at belaying by the end of class, but I am the last one to climb, and I have been wearing horrible rental shoes for two hours. Only about 12 feet above the ground, I put my foot on a rock with a protruding edge and suddenly the foot cramp is there, sharp and promising to get worse. I look up and the rocks only get smaller and farther apart from here. I can’t finish, I yell “take” and then come down, disappointed for the moment but knowing I’ll be back.

We take our skills test, and one of the other classmates asks me if I will be her climbing partner. I say yes cheerfully; no one else I know locally is interested in this (well, my daughter, but you have to be 8 or older to go on that gym’s wall). I expect I’ll be on the wall more than the new partner will, but having someone else there even 2 times a week will be helpful.

I bought a pass for the rest of the summer, and if I have time tomorrow I’ll go get proper shoes since the rental ones have proven themselves unworthy within the span of a single evening. They also have package deals for all needed gear at the local shop that are totally comparable to shopping online or at Ar Eee Eye.

This is so much at the limit (or possibly beyond it) of what I can physically do right now, what with all the weird body stuff and changes going on lately. It’s exciting, and a bit scary, and challenging. I’m not strong enough–yet.

Also, writing research, hee hee. I’m sure I’ll find tons of ways to fit what I learn from this into my writing. Fun times.

Well my voice has been fucked up for nearly two months now; I tore tissues before Flipside (taking out my entire upper register) and have kept re-injuring them through things like too much talking. Last night I was down to a whisper after all the talking after the con and on the drive.

I’m going to have to pick a couple of days next week where I just don’t talk, I think. I’d do it this weekend but there’s (yet again) Too Much Going On that I’ll need at least occasional words for.

I need my voice back. Not having my full range of tonal modulations has really been fucking with my head, as well as my craft.

Hoping to work more on 4th street notes this evening; mine aren’t nearly as detailed as my fellow Voluptuaries’ are so perhaps that won’t take too long. Also want to compile a list of works in progress (or those about to be) so that I can remember which stories I want to write next. (It’s easy to get distracted with all the new shinies recently.)

On the drive back, something happened that was the perfect cap to the weekend. We stopped by my mom’s place for lunch and naps and delicious showers before finishing the journey. My mom knew what we were up to at the con and is also a co-conspirator in planning the collaborative project.

She showed us some things she had found in her studio one day when she went in to work on her own art pieces. We passed them around, oohing in awe over what we held in our hands and the serendipitous perfection of the finishing touches. I touched (and now own a piece of) imported artifacts from a world that doesn’t exist yet. Talk about time-travelling. How can we not succeed? The proof sits in front of me as I type.

I got a good couple rounds of goosebumps and a few happy tears over this. This is going to be So. Much. Fun.

Wasn’t quite ready to be done yet, so woke up early-ish (especially if you consider time to bed) and ate oatmeal while watching my fellow sf&f fans, readers, editors, and writers check out (the internet connection in the lobby was horrible for my laptop so I moved around a bit), getting to say final thanks and give happy smiles to those passing by.

I’d say it was a life-changing experience except I was already changing my life along these lines, so I suppose it was more an affirming experience for me. Hearing thoughts I’d thunk for months come out of multiple intelligent other mouths as people bounced ideas back and forth and explored new ways of putting them together was thrilling. Having so many people thinking along similar lines definitely encouraged me to keep running at what I’m chasing.

I also had a great experience Saturday, two panels after the one the Society of Voluptuaries members were on (Advice from new writers), where an audience member called me out by name and told me that my ideas were a “pipe dream” and I was “incapable of succeeding”. I, of course, was grinning like a loon as he was doing it; a strong angry response is categorically no different from a strong positive, both mean you provoked other people to think (and sometimes thinking new thoughts is uncomfortable for folks). Plus, about the biggest mistake someone can make with me, in trying to discourage me and crush my aspirations (heehee), is to tell me I can’t do something.

But my (and other peoples’) grand plans certainly can’t be accomplished in a creative vacuum. We met tons of great people and connected to many brilliant minds over the course of the weekend. My personal universe is going to explode again, hopefully just in the creative realms this time, as I process and synthesize the awesomeness that was the 4th Street Fantasy Convention 2008.

Cant wait for 2009.

I just had a lovely mood booster arrive in my email; you may recall me mentioning some time ago about my flash fiction story “The Reap Assessors” being accepted for publication in the “Taking Flight” anthology from the Triangulation anthology series. Tonight I received this after a sweaty and stinky few hours cleaning out a freezer that Steve lost electricity on with meat still inside and fixing up the utility room right purty-like:

Oh, and I like to open my anthologies with something short, punchy, and
fun — something that a reader will read fast and hopefully entice them
into reading some more. This year, that’d be you; you’re batting lead-off.

You might imagine a reaction of delighted laughter and exultation, and you would be correct. You might even add in some bouncing and waving about of exuberant hands, and also be correct.  Now I’m off to wake my mom at 1:30 in the morning to tell her, since I was convinced by my roomies that it was the sort of thing a mom would want to be awakened for.