Forget your legs and feet are numb, trust your body is where it is and you’ll find the sensation again.

*****

July is a packed month in an entirely different way from June. No cons, not much leaving the house, but tons of shop work, house work, and most (and best) of all, writing work! I spent 5 hours in work meetings today, largely positive and a good start to a busy and balanced month. We’ve spent probably that much time again talking here at the Dream Cafe about our pet collaborative project this evening, both in and out of the hot tub.

I’m going to attempt to list my works in progress and (very roughly) when they will be done. Once I write the next blog entry I’ll probably move this data to “My Writing” page so I can monitor my progress better. (I also use the submissions tracker over at duotrope.com for a different way of tracking what is out where. What with all the traveling I’m down to barely anything at all circulating for publication. This can’t go on!) Plus I have to learn to balance collaborative and personal projects, lay in those good habits right at the start so I’ll have less integration problems later.

Therefore, in order of when they need to be done…

* a short story for consideration in an anthology due July 31 (already have notes, general ideas of characters and plot, and it’s been cooking for a month in my head. This one will be drafted quite soon.)

* meeting with mom about big brain business fun, preferably first meeting in sometime in July (if Kit and I can gather notes in timely fashion)

* 21st century storytelling paper (collaborating with Kit O’Connell) due September 25 (also need presentation ready)

* story of some length no shorter than a short story but potentially up to novel length, from collaborative project, due at same time as paper (preferably before; looks like I’ll be branching out into learning to write a mystery story. Fun!)

* other diverse collaborative project bits, due same as above two

* magical realism story with the twins, due as soon as it gels enough to write

* Elliot’s story, due as soon as I figure out major structural horribleness

* novel-in-progress, first draft due end of December at latest (I solved the Chapter 7 problem: I’m ignoring it, leaving it in outline form, and moving on to chapter 8. I’ll be wading through with editorial scythe once the draft is done anyway; so far there are about two chapters that approach anything resembling “good”.)

* other sundry projects, both related to the novel and not, due whenever they jump out of my head and onto the page

This doesn’t mention at all the 5 single-spaced pages of poem and story ideas that could demand brain space at any time, nor all the writing ideas I hide in my LJ and forget to tag. I think that should keep me busy for at least a month or two, yes?

Didn’t get to phone or climbing shoe errands today, hopefully tomorrow.

…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.