The voices in my head don't think they're imaginary

Well, I made it home ... finally. Apparently President Obama decided he was going to leave NYC right around the same time as my flight. Which meant we sat on the tarmac for an hour, waiting for all the security to clear.

I hate the flight home to PDX, and not just because leaving New York makes me all misty. It's because *coming* to NY it's a 4 hour flight, and *going*, it's like 6, because of the jet stream or some stupid meterological junk like that. So the flight home is a long miserable flight. Tonight's flight was made even longer by the fact that someone in one of the nearby seats had a bad case of ATOMIC DEATH FARTS. We were treated to one of these ghastly ass-emissions every five minutes or so. I spent most of the flight with my hanky pressed to my nose like an asthmatic marchioness. JetBlue, if you're listening ... PUTTING 5-ALARM CHILI ON THE MENU at your new terminal was a BAD IDEA and whoever came up with it should be taken out and beaten to death. Or buckled in a window seat and left to slowly go mad.

In other news, ellen_datlow posted photos from last night's KGB readings. I don't know how she does it, but she always manages to get good pictures of me. She's one of the only people on the planet who seems able to do so. My favorite shot from last night ...



How about it? Do I dare make it my author book jacket photo? I don't think I quite dare, but I sure do like it. I think it captures something about me that otherwise requires a butterfly net and straightjacket to capture. Thank you, Ellen. ;-)

OK ... bath, and then to bed. 'Nite, all.

So this is my last day in NYC and I am sad. I love this city and the cool people who live here. I think I need to take a page out of Mary Robinette Kowal's book and figure out a way to move out here for a while - sublet an apartment next summer, perhaps? At least that way I might find the time to actually visit a museum or two. Even with four days free, I only just managed to get to Ellis Island on this trip. Though I might be able to squeeze in a visit to the NY Historical Society museum before my flight tonight ... Anyway, NY is too cool and huge to try to digest in 4-day chunks. Ah well, we shall see. In any case, thanks NYC, as always, for showing me a great time.

... there *is* free wifi in Union Square Park, despite many strongly-worded assertions to the contrary. Just sit right in front of Honest Abe and you're good to go. Yay!

I left something at the con hotel, I'm such a doofus. If you're returning to NYC tomorrow, and are willing to meet me somewhere with said item, I'll be eternally grateful!! Email me, mkhobson at demimonde daht com if you are able to help.

... For an enjoyable con as always. The History and Fictional History panel went really well, though the room was approximately 30 degrees. I got to hang with some of my regular NYC peeps, and meet some cool new east coasters as well. And we had really good thai food last night, which was a welcome treat to supplement the broke-ass diet I've been sticking to for the past several days (consuite cheese, peanut butter + jelly, and instant oatmeal).

But change is the only constant and like a shark I must keep moving. Now I'm on my way back to the city, hooray!

She sets tummy rub traps. She lays on the couch in this position, gazing longingly at people as they go by to see who she will catch in her tummy rub web of evil!



"I'm just puttin' it out there! No pressure, really! Tummy rubs, I can take 'em or leave 'em! I can quit any time! Don't you judge me!"

By the way, thanks to all of you who offered congratulations on the last post. I'm saving in a place in gay pirate limbo for each and every one of you! (Except for lisamantchev, she doesn't need a place saved. I am unilaterally crowning her QUEEN of gay pirate limbo!)

Since douglascohen is reporting it here, I can safely announce that my story "The Hag Queen's Curse" will be appearing in the rebooted Realms of Fantasy magazine. Woo hoo!

This is the story that several people know as "The Big Gay Pirate Story". It takes place in the '80s and features a goth chick, her gay boyfriend, and a pirate who dresses like Adam Ant. So, pretty much my life as I lived it.

Nota bene: Realms of Fantasy is not open to submissions. My story squeaked in because it was in some kind of gay pirate limbo between the time Sovereign Media shuttered the mag and Tir Na Nog purchased it. So don't send any new material to Realms until Doug says you can. End of message.

Meet the Pros(e) Party
Meet writers at Readercon, get stickers with snippets of their work, and just generally have a fun time.
Friday, 10:45 p.m. | Salons A & E
Participants: A cast of hundreds.

History and Fictional History
Certain things in fiction are, by convention and for good reason, not strictly realistic — dialogue, for instance, is a highly edited version of real speech. We ask: is history one of these things? When we devise a fictional history (either an alternate past or a history of the future), can and should it represent the way history really works (choose your own theory), or is doing so antithetical to good fiction? Isn't, for instance, the dramatic structure we look for in most novels absent from real history?
Saturday, 10:00 to 10:30 a.m. | Salon E
Participants: C.C. Finlay, Christopher M. Cevasco, Suzy McKee Charnas, David Anthony Durham, M.K. Hobson, Howard Waldrop

The Genre Roots of the Mainstream Tradition in American Fiction
The plots of Charles Brockden Brown, America's first novelist, frequently hinged on scientific speculation. Washington Irving and Nathaniel Hawthorne emp[oyed fantasy elements, Edgar Allan Poe invented a range of genre tropes, and James Fenimore Cooper introduced the series character--a staple of modern genre fiction. In the last century, some of F. Scott Fitzgerald's earliest works depend on fantastic elements. Mainstream American writers, in fact, have regularly created fiction that would now be considered part of the speculative genre. Finlay will argue that genre elements are not isolated in a separate branch of the American literary tradition, but are instead at the heart of it.
Saturday, 12:00 p.m. | ME/CT
Participants: C.C. Finlay, with discussion by Michael A. Burstein, Helen Collins, F. Brett Cox, Debra Doyle, Chris Nakashima-Brown, M.K. Hobson

I got my hair chopped and highlighted again, and it feels great. I can't do long hair anymore, not even 2-inch long hair. Especially not in this heat.

In other news, I totally failed to remark on the fact that my LiveJournal had its eighth birthday on June 13. Eight years of this crap, and somehow I still have friends. The mind boggles.

Now, I must go do things. What things, I will not say. But things.

... and someone keeps blowing off M-80s in the street in front of my house. I wonder if the two things are connected.

Yes, it seems that my one and only offspring, with her dimples and curls, is destined for a new nickname, "The Blonde Widow."

She was the only one in my whole family to figure out the "correct" answer to the following riddle:

A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met a guy whom she did not know. She thought this guy was amazing. She believed him to be her dream guy so much, that she fell in love with him right there, but never asked for his number and could not find him. A few days later she killed her sister.

Question: What is her motive for killing her sister?

( The answer ... think about it before you click! )

According to the original source, answering this question correctly means you think like a psychopath, and that "many serial killers have taken this test and answered it correctly." Thank goodness Snopes.com doesn't agree, or I'd have to start sleeping with one eye open!

My puppy has this whole "chase" thing sussed out.

So this evening (and a lovely warm evening it is) we're out walking along a deserted gravel road where she can roam off-leash. I've got the chuckit, and I'm throwing a tennis ball for her, and she's LOVING the chase. However, each and every time she finally runs the ball down, instead of bringing it back to me (i.e., retrieving it) she plops her furry ass down in the middle of the road, ball in mouth, and waits patiently for me to catch up.

I must say, I greatly respect this dog's intelligence.

You know, I hadn't realized how completely trained my daughter is to not bug to me when I'm on the computer until she started bringing untrained friends over to the house for sleepovers. I'll be sitting there, innocently typing away on a post or an email, and some 11-year-old will settle herself next to me ... peer over my shoulder ... ask me what I'm doing ... ask me who I'm emailing, and what about ... launch into some interminable and incomprehensible story about "The Wizards of Waverly Place" ...

Now I know how Mr. Wilson felt!

AAAALICE!

• 00:16 Watching "The Sting." Amazingly, I've never seen this movie before! #
• 01:13 How can I not have seen this movie before! I was an f*ing film major, for hell's sake! #
• 01:55 Now I have the urge to see "The Hustler" again too. Young Paul Newman=so cute! #

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On Monday got word from my editor at Bantam Spectra, the wonderful Anne Groell, that they're getting started on next summer's books ... of which The Native Star is one!

In the past 24 hours, I've turned (via email) a book summary, updated bio, and final MS for Anne's editing pile. I've also received a very detailed Random House author information form to be filled out by week's end.

I've heard it said that, from the author's perspective, the book publishing experience is 90% waiting and 10% running around in a panic. I can see what they mean.

However, I am not in panic mode because I worked on all of these things already, and so I had them ready to be turned around with quickness and dispatch. How did I know I needed to work on them? Because I have friends who have been around this carnival ride before (often many times before), and they have shared their valuable knowledge and wealth of experience on their LJs.

In honor of SF/F writer's day, I'm saluting SF/F writers from a slightly different angle. Here's to all the writers who've taken the time to pay it forward, answer questions, and blog about their experiences. Thank you!

So Readercon is less than a month away, and I still don't have a roommate to share my luxurious hotel room at the Burlington Marriott. C'mon, people! Work with me here! What do I have to throw in to cut my expenses? You want to share my granola bars? FINE. You can share my granola bars.

Anyone? Bueller?

UPDATE: I have a roommate! Yay!

Google is *totally* failing me. Someone help me with this West Coast historical reference that I'm half remembering and mostly forgetting:

During gold rush days, Seattle, Portland, and San Francisco were referred to as the three sisters. Seattle was the whore, Portland was the schoolmarm, and Seattle was ... what? The maiden? The nice girl who stayed home and knitted? WHAT? And am I even getting the first two right?

I know I've found reference to this quaint little attempt at categorization many a time, but for some reason it's now utterly gone from the interweb. And it's driving me right up the wall that I can't find it.

Someone, help!

UPDATE: Thank you for finding the answer, hhw!

This year, husband requested that we make him biscuits and gravy, so daughter and I whipped up some scratch biscuits that turned out really well. The cream gravy turned out OK, even though all we had in the house was dried nonfat milk that we had to reconstitute, and ground turkey, which doesn't *really* do full duty for sausage.

In other news, we've had two or three big turkey vultures circling over the ravine next to our house. I wonder what they're after down there.

Happy Father's Day to all the fathers on my fList.

More awesome writerly times. It's beginning to feel like Summer Writer's Camp here in Portland, with cool stuff going on every few days.

This evening it was camillealexa's reading at Powell's Books in Beaverton. She read from her new collection "Push of the Sky". Buy it, people! It's a brilliant collection. My personal favorite pieces are "Observations of a Dimestore Figurine" and "Shades of White and Road." Oooh, and "Weird Fruits." That's a beautiful creepy kinda sad one.

In other news, I was also introduced to Peter, the SF organizer guy at Powell's, and I got to talk to him a little about the book I have coming out next year. Thanks to all my writer buds who steered me his way, you know who you are. ;-)