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Writing again

My Dragon Con 2023: Saturday & Sunday

Found my book ribbons, so I am having a blast sharing & swapping ribbons w/other attendees!

A few folk even asked after the books, which is heartening. But honestly? I do ribbons for the smiles.

Result: many happy faces!

Great panels yesterday & today, from The Trouble w/Magic, to Nostalgia vs Creativity, and a whole bunch more fab ones in between.

We’ve done the art show, listened to some music, & admired tons of cosplay.

Next up, another run at the vendor hall. ( I can only handle the overwhelm one floor at a time) I’ve seen more phoenix-based merch this year than any five past years.

Hazardous to the wallet, but a delight to the senses.

Anyway. More later, as always.


Rough Passages

When getting older means gaining superpowers, life gets complicated for everyone.

Heroic grandmothers, courageous Marines, and extraordinary teens: welcome to a reality where every midlife crisis might become a national emergency.

Rough Passages is a contemporary fantasy novel told in eight short stories about five people forever changed by the powers that disrupt their lives.

In bookstores & libraries now.

Amazon (ebook & print)

Bookshop.org (print)

a selection of non-Amazon ebook vendors

More info here on my website

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New Post

Gone Feral. Staying Feral.

Feral isn’t a trendy word anymore, but I don’t care. The truth is, it suits me, so I’m keeping it. When we entered Pandemic Times, lo, these 3+ years ago, I sowed my fucks in a barren field where they have gone to compost.

I have always been “too” intense. Too forceful. Too prone to spouting off massive amounts of knowledge no one asked to receive. It bugs people, it distresses people, it makes people uncomfortable. So I always did the emotional work to tame myself in the company of others.

Not saying I succeeded, only that I tried.

These days I’ve not only stopped working so hard to throttle back to socially acceptable levels of muchness, I am getting assertive about Not Caring if the resulting Too Muchness bothers other people.

Even friends. Because if I can’t be myself around people, are those people really friends?

Feral is fine. I’ve always been feral.

I dislike parties for many reasons. Instant regrets and days of kicking myself for opening my mouth an speaking up about anything top the list. Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria means often feeling like I’ve done wrong even when the hypothetical “objective observer” wouldn’t agree.

Do I go off on the regular? Hell, yes, of course my slips show if I feel I am among friends. But I always used to regret cutting loose in group environments. I always heavily moderated myself around others. Even friends.

So it’s quite likely that even if you know me “well,” you don’t know me at my full-on feral mostness.

The only people who know the full me are the ones who grew up with me, are married to me, or worked a bookstore opening with me & spent an overnight lying on the carpet in the kid’s section wondering how the FUCK we were ever going to get done in time.

That’s what I used to say, anyway.

Since 2021, I’ve added another category: folk who shared hotel room meals at cons with me despite being required to demonstrate proof of vaccination and a clean rapid test before I would share unmasked airspace.

Anyway, if you think I am Rather a Lot already, if you have ever thought I am Too Much, you may want to shift your interaction parameters to limit exposure from now on.

I’m only going to get wilder.


Categories
Writing again

take note.

Some writers keep little pads of paper at the bedside for recording dreams.

I don’t need one of those. My dreams are vivid, so I have no problem remembering dreamed ideas worth keeping.

What I need is a notepad at the breakfast table for the ideas that come to mind over toast & tea but disappear as soon as I sit down to write an hour later.

Maybe if I make a note here, I’ll finally remember to hunt up a notepad before tomorrow.

But I wouldn’t count on it.