Blogging has completely escaped my mind – I remembered just now that I even have a blog, and so here I am. But house shopping has taken over, and surely no one wants to hear me talk about how this location has this, although that location has that and a POOL, but while I love love love the kitchen in this one, there are no TREES in the backyard. Which makes for no happy home, in my humble opinion. Oh, and between house ditherings, I whine about why Clarion is taking so long to get here. (Ten days! And I have roommates now! Although one is suspiciously quiet…)

So instead, I’ll add my small opinion here, after reading John Scalzi’s latest blog entry, “How to have a writing career like mine,” and this writer’s response. For me, right now, it’s not so much about a writing “career” per se, but the actual act of writing itself; that I’m doing it, and that it fulfills me. That I’m writing the story I hope to read every time I pick up a magazine or anthology. One day, writing the book I want to read. And if those stories and books sell, enough to potentially get me more contracts, that’s all the better.

And now I must do some real work, although “Sarscon8″ nits are rubbing at me to be fixed. I will likely bring that story to Clarion, which will give it even more of a shot than it has already, although I’ll run the risk of my classmates thinking I’m far more freaky than I truly am.

Also, a link on gender in SFF. Some interesting thoughts.

Oh, and I meant to bring attention to K.C. Ball’s excellent story in Lightspeed last week, “Snapshots I Brought Back from the Black Hole.” She does some great things in it, and overall, a moving read.

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