Umm... yeah.

I've been going to Boskone for years. This year, I'm on panels. This is the first time I'll be on any con panel. Wish me luck...
(Especially on Sunday where they've put me on 3 panels in 4 hours.)

Friday 5:00pm

Griffin: Without Being a Token (QUILTBAG)

The term QUILTBAG tries to point to many areas on the sexuality continuum -- queer or questioning, unisex, intersex, lesbian, transgender or transexual, bisexual, asexual or ally, and gay. In the SF community, when these characters appear in fiction, they (like other character types) sometimes appear as fully drawn people, other times as tokens. When and why does a QUILTBAG character require a full portrayal?
Julia Rios (M), Joan Slonczewski, John Chu, Gillian Daniels

Sunday 10:00am

Harbor III: Regenerating Doctor Who

TV's favorite Time Lord celebrates his show's world-record 50th anniversary this November. After so many stories, so many assistants and villains -- not to mention so many Doctors -- how has the series stayed fresh enough to keep running, season after season? What more might be in store?
Colin Harris (M), Jennifer Pelland, John Chu, Jim Mann

Sunday 12:00pm

Burroughs: On the Stage: Genre in the Theater

The fantastical and horrible on stage go back to Aeschylus and Aristophanes. SF on stage is...more recent. Has the current surge in genre TV and film led to a resurgence in the theatre? Our panelists will discuss both past and present genre plays.
Bob Kuhn (M), F. Brett Cox, James Patrick Kelly, John Chu, Gillian Daniels

Sunday 1:00pm

Burroughs: Non-English Fiction and Translation

When translating works of fiction into English, what are some of the dangers associated with capturing the original piece "meaning for meaning?" What effect do cross-cultural references or the lack of historical knowledge have on either the translator or the reader of the newly translated piece of fiction? Moreover, is the translated work as valid as the original? How might translation techniques impact the interpreted work for good or ill? Panelists will also discuss examples of translated work.
David Anthony Durham (M), Jack M. Haringa, John Chu

Before I say anything about Pippin at the ART, I should probably list the mitigating circumstances: I thought Diane Paulus did a great job with Hair. Her Porgy and Bess annoyed me more than anything else. Pippin is probably closer to the former than the latter, so I was hopeful. However...

The woman next to me kept waving her hands as if she were a spectacularly arrhythmic conductor or maybe she thought she was calling cues. Either way, it was as if the show could not proceed without her doing something. The guy next to her apparently believed if he didn't sing along the show would be ruined. (The show actually asks you to sing along with to the chorus of "No Time at All." That's fine. He sang along whenever the fever struck him during the entire show.) The people behind me apparently know the guy playing Pippin. (They'd mentioned this before the show started.) They gave the "I'm in third row center and I know he can see me so I'm going to be especially appreciative" type of reaction. I'm all for people enjoying themselves at the theater, as long as it doesn't upstage the main event.

Also, I knew going in that the conceit here was that they would set Pippin in a circus. My bias is that I think this is a media studies major or theater major's idea of sophistication and edginess. It's what they do for their senior projects to prove they're real film or theater directors. Either that, or they re-set a work inside an insane asylum.

Pippin, however, has always been a play within a play. The story of Pippin's life is enacted by this wandering theater troupe. In this production, the wandering theater troupe is a circus. Setting Pippin inside a circus isn't intrinsically a bad idea. It's not like someone decided to do Juno (the musical based on Juno and the Paycock) as if it were performed by a circus troupe. If there is a musical (which isn't already set inside a circus) where this conceit could work, it's Pippin.

First, a quick overview of the changes for those who keep track of this sort of thing: Larry Hochman orchestrated for a pit of 12: 2 keyboards, violin/viola, cello, bass, guitar, 2 reeds, trumpet, trombone, 2 percussion. They cut "Welcome Home, Son." (I find it hard to care about this.) "War is a Science" has new lyrics so that it's now about how to keep the body count. "Glory" is missing at least one section (which shows up at the top of act two with new lyrics). In "No Time at All" has an extra time through the singalong chorus. i.e., Berthe doesn't interrupt us. "With You" has, I think, new dance music. "Spread a Little Sunshine" has a new dance arrangement. "Morning Glow" has a new ending, incorporating "Corner of the Sky", and makes reference to the fact that the show used to be a one act. (Yes, this means they cut the "hey, the crown doesn't fit" joke.)

There's now an entr'acte where the circus troupe does acrobatics. The missing part of "Glory" shows up at the top of act two with new lyrics about Pippin being king. "On the Right Track" has some minor changes, most notably the professions Pippin tries. "Extraordinary" has a bunch of new lyrics that, oddly, make it more ordinary. (I'm sad that the world of Pippin no longer has griffins.) They reconceived the finale, somewhat, about a decade ago. It now uses the lyrics on the cast album (which, AFAIK, were never used in the original production).

[Oh, and they honor the tradition of not listing "I Guess I'll Miss the Man" in the program. The Leading Player interjects during breaks but doesn't interrupt any of the singing. I think having the Leading Player literally say, "There isn't a song at this point in the show" is new though.]

No new songs. "Welcome Home, Son" is the only cut as far as I can tell. They even sang the rather stupid "Prayer for a Duck." I.e., if I haven't mentioned a song, it's because it seemed unchanged to me.

For all the changes, I can't really say whether the show is better or worse. It's just different. I guess some of the new lyrics are more pointed, perhaps more accomplished. They don't serve their dramatic function noticeably better than the originals though.

As for the conceit, I think it could have worked better. Ultimately, I don't know that it meshed well with the choreography. This production hired Chet Walker to choreograph in the style of Bob Fosse, and that he did. In some cases, he recreated the original choreography. The Manson Trio is explicitly credited in the program. In other case, it's a lovingly faithful pastiche. Portions of "Glory" looked like something out of Sweet Charity though.

Right away, though, there is a casting dilemma. The likelihood you can find people adept at both circus acrobatics and Fosse dance is pretty low. This cast has its acrobats and its Fosse dancers and the twain doesn't meet as often as one might like. Everyone does a little something but the serious dancing falls on only a few and the serious acrobats falls only a few others. They hide this well, but not well enough. (Part of this is so not their fault. One of the acrobats, well, mere mortals are not supposed to have bodies like that. I spent a lot of time watching what he was doing.)

The program has a short essay by Chet Walker where he talks about how Fosse's style "demanded that you interpret the written word and illustrate the lyric." That is, there was a meaning to everything he put on stage. Of the Fosse pieces that remained in the show, that was still true. However, the circus bits, while they were cool to watch, felt like distractions rather than anything that heightened the show in any meaningful sense. Some of the bits were breathtaking, but it felt like you could have replace any trick with any other breathtaking trick and the result would be the same. None of it was serving a dramatic function.

The result is rather than a synthesis of Fosse movement and circus movement, we got diluted Fosse. It's still a good time, but I was left wondering what the various feats of acrobatics had to do with anything. I'm not saying that circus acrobatics can't tell a story or further dramatic action. I'm saying that it didn't work for me in this case. Frankly, it might have worked better if they hadn't decided to choreography in the style of Fosse. If the acrobatics had been the entire movement vocabulary of the show, it might have worked better.

The cast, of course, is the dead giveaway that they have aspirations beyond a regional production. For the most part, they deliver.

Andrea Martin, as Berthe, only has the one scene and song, but she stops the show with it. She's amazing. Her part is too small to make it worth the price of the ticket, but it's also one of those few moments where the circus acrobatics really works.

Terrance Mann is terrific as Charlemagne. The gravitas and bluster are both there. It's a serious, grounded performance that's also utterly appropriate. He also makes a point of being someone completely different in the bits where he's merely a player in the circus.

Charlotte d'Amboise is ideal casting for Fastrada. Apparently, I only see her in roles where she has One Big Solo Dance Number. (I saw her Cassie in Chorus Line on Broadway.) She nails the role, doing just enough faux-innocent vamping that we get the idea, but not so much that we're annoyed.

Rache Bay Jones, as Catherine, is sweet and sympathetic. Her part, more than any other, has to function in both the inner story and the outer story at the same time. I.e., while the troupe is telling the story of Pippin, we are also getting a bit of the story of the troupe. The two intersect on her. Everything she does must make sense in the context of both stories and she succeeds admirably. (Incidentally, this is another place where the circus conceit actually works well, giving her a chance to build up the story of her position in the troupe in act one, in which she otherwise does not appear.)

Patina Miller is fine as the Leading Player. Unfortunately, she can't be a better Ben Vereen than Ben Vereen and his performance has been immortalized on DVD. Another reason, perhaps, not to choreograph in the style of Fosse. You'd think if the troupe is a circus, she'd be more of a ringmaster. However, her movement language is that Fosse and I'm surprised to realize how tightly choreographed the role is. The result is that she ends up looking like Ben Vereen's highly skilled and polished understudy. I have no idea what Patina Miller brings to the role.

Matthew James Thomas is my only disappointment. Unfortunately, he plays Pippin. His thin, high voice is fine for the part. (He may be the only Pippin in history to end "Extraordinary" on tonic rather than shouting the last note.) His scene with Terrance Mann at the end of act one plays probably about as well as it has ever been played. My only gripe with his performance is that it's whiny and makes Pippin look like an overentitled spoiled brat. (To be fair, he kind of is.)

Pippin, as he's written, is already a bit precious. For me, Matthew James Thomas overeggs the pudding. Whereas everyone else was giving these interesting, surprisingly nuanced performances, his felt one-note to me. I'm meant to be sympathetic to his yearning for something truly fulfilling and be disappointed along with him when everything he tries fails to live up to that. Instead, knowing that there was a revised ending, I was hoping he'd immolate himself in the fire. While that's an audacious acting choice to make me feel that way, I don't think it's the right one.

As for the revised ending, well, it's better than the revised ending to Porgy and Bess. (I saw that in early previews at the ART. By the time the production reached Broadway, they'd reinstated the original ending.) For me, it was an ending that worked better in theory than in practice. It satisfies the structure, but makes no sense.

[Pippin is 40 years old. I think the statute of limitations is up on spoilers. If you want to remain unspoiled, skip the next 7 paragraphs.]

Of course, Pippin is ultimately about this troupe of players who go around convincing young men to immolate themselves in this act of perfect fulfillment. The way they do this is they find someone idealistic enough to believe in such a thing, have him act the part of Pippin and by the end he's so broken down that he'll commit suicide. The musical is much more subtle than my description. So subtle, that some people fail to recognize that the story of Pippin's life is the play within the play. Also, the act of immolation is presented much more appealingly than I've have here.

In the performance we see, the suicide does not happen because the man playing Pippin and the woman playing Catherine have genuinely fallen in love with each other. It's through the recognition of that love that the man playing Pippin saves himself. (Yes, it's a bit trite, but no one claimed Pippin is great literature.) The Leading Player apologizes to the audience and says if there is someone who wants to experience, lights, sets, magic, and perfect fulfillment, they are right there in his mind. The entire cast except for Pippin, Catherine and her son essentially abandon the show. No lights, no set, no costumes (they've all been systematically stripped from the show as the finale proceeded) and finally no music.

The original non-ending ending was Pippin sings a bit a cappella, then Catherine asks Pippin if how he feels about his decision. He responds that he feels trapped, but that's not a bad ending for a musical comedy. Ta-da. Jazz hands. Curtain.

Yeah. That's rather unsatisfying.

The ending is musically more satisfying, but dramatically puzzling. That is, Pippin sings a bit a cappella. Pippin Catherine and her son go off stage. However, he comes back on and sings a bit of "Corner of the Sky" center stage. The circus troupe returns and we get one more reprise of the hit tune.

The implication is that the cycle has continued with the son taking the father's place. What has always been implicit with the show, that they would go on to find other young men to immolate is now explicit. That's fine. What makes no sense is that it's the son. You'd think the man playing Pippin and woman playing Catherine would march back on stage and drag the son away. Also, the son is way too young to play Pippin.

The show has been flirting with meta-theater all night. They make explicit references to the audience. They even crawl through the audience during the entr'acte. (The hot acrobat crawled over my armrest. I could have reached out to touch him but I decided he wouldn't appreciate that.) What would have both made sense and satisfy the dramatic structure is if some guy about the right age to play Pippin walked out of the audience onto center stage and started singing "Corner of the Sky" (and in the right key so that when the orchestra enters, there is no catastrophe.) Of course, no production can afford to hire a guy to sit in the audience for an entire show so that he can sing 8 bars of "Corner of the Sky" at the very end.

[Ok, I've stopped giving away the ending.]

On the whole, I enjoyed it. Pippin is an unfortunate vacuum within his own musical. (Even then, Matthew James Thomas does have his moments.) The cast that surrounds him is pretty awesome. If the circus bits feel like distractions more than anything else, they are at least breathtaking distractions. It's possible to go into the theater and have a really good time. (By contrast, I left Porgy and Bess somewhat grumpy.)

I've always liked the score and this cast does it justice. Right now, I'm hoping it continues to Broadway. That makes it more likely we'll get a cast album and the changes to the score will be documented.

[As an aside, as I was leaving, the conducting woman to my left was complaining about a cut song. For a moment, I thought I'd found the one person in the world who cares about "Welcome Home, Son." Nope, she was talking about "Kind of Woman," which Catherine did sing in the show. The conducting woman missed it entirely. Maybe she was too busy waving her arms around to keep the show in motion or something.]

In some ways, World Fantasy Convention was exactly what I'd wanted. In some ways, it was nothing like what I'd expected.

What didn't surprise me:

Going into Canada would involve a couple of odd questions but would not be problematic. Returning to the United States, the country of my citizenship, would involve a bunch of odd questions asked politely by a hostile customs inspector determined to interpret my every answer in the worst possible way. (I stumbled at first. When he asked me where I was going, I answered, "I'm going home to Boston." His response was openly skeptical, as if what he really wanted to say was "You think you are, are you? Well, we'll see about that." I kept my responses impersonal after that. He probably already quizzed other people who'd gone to WFC so the truth that I'd spent my long weekend there seemed more plausible.)

A terrific evening catching up with my friend, Des.

A great time at the con with lots of friends, including the talented and lovely Karin Tidbeck whom I thought I'd never see again. (It doesn't seem likely that I will be able to visit Malmö any time soon.) It was great catching up with Jeff and Ann VanderMeer, Adam Israel, Barbara Gordon, Lily Yu and too many others to mention. Of course, there was never enough time with anyone. (I already miss you all in part because 2013 may be a year where I don't travel to many cons.)

Meeting a lot of writers, editors and agents who I hadn't known and made an idiot of myself in front of some of them. I can only hope that they recognize a fan insensibly squeeing and make allowances. (In particular, Ted Chiang is such a hero to me. His work is one of the reasons why I'm writing. In my defense, I had just woken up from a nap and was groggy when I almost literally ran into him. I think I fared much better with Elizabeth Hand and Aliette de Bodard.)

WFC has a reputation of being where the business of writing happens. Sure enough, the business of writing happened all around me. (It helps to have insanely talented friends who didn't mind me shadowing them.) I'm new enough to all of this that it was pretty neat to see other people conducting business, albeit from a polite and respectful distance.

What did surprise me:

When you become a member of WFC, you get a huge bag of books. Fortunately, I got some friends to drive those books home for me. Otherwise, getting them home would have been cumbersome, expensive, or both. The huge bag of books is apparently something that people just know about.

Yes, WFC is where they make the sausage. I just didn't expect to become part of the sausage. (I mean this in the best possible way.) It turns out that this is a con where people will idly ask you if you write. Also, it turns out that if you happen to have stories forthcoming in Asimov's and Tor.com, people suddenly take you seriously as a writer.

Two agents (unprompted!) asked me to send them my novel when I have one.

An editor asked me for my card. (Then suggested that, now that I'm a pro, perhaps I ought to have a card.)

I may have the opportunity to write an essay for an anthology. (I hope this doesn't fall through as I really want to do this.)

[Ken announced the project on Twitter Tuesday night so I assume it's ok to talk about now.]
I'll be beta-reading Ken Liu's English translation of 三体, the first volume of 刘慈欣's Three Body trilogy. It was already on my To Be Read pile. I'll just be reading it right now, rather than after House of Leaves. This will be a lot of work, but obviously much more work for Ken. However, it's a terrific opportunity. I'm looking forward to reading the English translation before anyone else.

(Technically, this last bit has more to do with an off-hand Facebook comment than WFC. However, it happened during WFC.)

Just to add to the surreal nature of the weekend, while all this cool stuff was happening, rejection after rejection kept popping up in my email. Seriously, from the Wednesday before WFC to the Tuesday after, five editors rejected my work. Oh well, at least I'm in no danger of getting a swell head.

Still, I had a great time. WFC at Brighton in 2013 is probably not in the cards. I have an all event pass for the US Figure Skating Nationals only two months later. WFC at DC in 2014 is a distinct possibility though. (I'm thinking about WisCon and/or ICFA in 2013 maybe?)

This week's In Our Time on BBC4 is about Fermat's Last Theorem. It's a terrific overview about the theorem and the fascinating history of the mathematicians who have tried to prove and eventually succeeded in proving the theorem.

That history is why when I wrote a story about mathematicians, I had them prove Fermat's Last Theorem. I called it "Fermat's Last Stand." One of the amazing writers in BRAWL, my writers' group, suggested that the mathematicians prove a theorem that's actually thematically related to the story instead. That bit of advice helped me pull the story into a coherent whole. (However, it meant I had to change the title. I still think "Fermat's Last Stand" is a terrific title, just not for this story.)

The result, "Incomplete Proofs", has been published in Bloody Fabulous(GoodReads). It's either now available or about to be available depending on whom you check with. Ekaterina Sedia has put together a set of diverse takes on fashion in urban fantasy written by highly talented authors who've been nominated for or have won some really awesome awards, and me. (Seriously, I'm the only one in the table of contents I've never heard of.)

(Oh, and why is a story about mathematicians in an anthology of urban fantasy about fashion? Like I said, it's a collection that's both diverse and on-topic.)

[Note: If I'm going to do the blogging thing, I should probably blog more often. Also, I may set up An Actual Website. I already own the .net and .org domains of my name. Renting a Linode is becoming more and more tempting since I can also use it for other stuff.]

Anyway, Readercon...

Number of men likely of Asian descent I saw (Yes, I really do track this, albeit informally): At least 4. This is most I've seen at any Readercon. (BTW, I'm using the American definition of Asian.) For whatever reason, there are usually more women likely of Asian descent although I don't know if that was the case this year.

Number of times I was approached because I'm a person of color: At least 1. He was a man of Chinese descent who was approaching everyone who looked even remotely Chinese to find out if they were. Having gone to conventions where, I swear, I was the only man who looked even remotely Asian, I'm actually sympathetic. However, I've never quizzed anyone on their ethnicity.

(This number is a little tricky to count. I mean, one year, someone who knew me but didn't know what I looked like found me from behind. i.e., he didn't need to look at the name tag.)

Number of gay speculative fiction writers of color attending: Obviously, I have no idea. I hope it was more than just Chip Delany and me.

There were a bunch of interesting panels. In particular, I really liked "The Seven Deadly Myths of Creativity" and "Colonialism and the Emergence of Science Fiction." In the latter, I don't think the straight, white guy in the audience attempting to take over the panel recognized how ironic his behavior was. Andrea Hairston is an absolutely awesome moderator. She made sure everyone on the panel who wanted to speak had the chance to do so and kept the guy in the audience from hijacking the discussion. When I grow up and moderate panels, I want to be just like her and Elizabeth Bear who does a similarly awesome job.

I caught up with a lot of people. My apologies for not naming you all. This year, the list includes a surprising number of my Clarion instructors. (Seriously, the only instructors who weren't there were George RR Martin and Ann VanderMeer.) Due to missed connections, I still didn't catch up with everyone I wanted to. :( Also, there were a few people that I wanted to talk to that I didn't. Apparently, I'm really awful at going up to people I know of but don't know me, or people I know only electronically and introducing myself.

This is the first year where anyone was surprised that I'm not on any panels. My traditional excuse that I haven't sold anything yet doesn't cut it any more. With a story in Boston Review, one forthcoming in the anthology Bloody Fabulous and another forthcoming in Asimov's, I guess I can now claim to be a published writer. I suppose, for next year, I ought to apply to be on some. The worst thing that happens is they look at my qualifications and go "Feh!" It's not like there's any public shaming involved and I have at least a few months to work up the nerve.

This year, Jeff VanderMeer came to Readercon. (See above note about surprising number of my Clarion instructors.) So, I spent a bunch of time with him. Jeff is cool, cool, guy so that was a great time. My only regret was that the equally cool Ann VanderMeer couldn't make it due to schedule conflicts. *sigh*

As usual, I have my traditional angst about whether I should get a hotel room for a con I live so close to. What always happens is that end up leaving to go home just as things get interesting. (Not falling asleep on the drive home is A Good Thing.) Also, more and more, I find I need to go away and decompress. Of course, getting a hotel room increases the cost of the con for me by maybe an order of magnitude?

Right now, I'm going through my typical set of mixed feelings: regret that it's over and that I didn't do everything I wanted to and relief that I'm no longer in among so many people. One advantage to having a hotel room is that I can escape the crush of people without having to leave the con. Readercon seemed especially crowded this year, but I didn't feel the dire need to recharge that I felt during Arisia. Even if I start doing panels and the like, that's the main reason why I may never do so at Arisia.

(Note: This is not intended to be anything negative about Arisia. I had a great time. Like any busy, vibrant con, it was very large, loud and crowded. I can only take so much of that before I really need to escape. Worldcon will probably have the same issues for me. In that case, though, I'll have a hotel room.)

Oh, and I finished a short story during the con. Coincidentally, I did the same at Boskone.

Anyway, I've always loved Readercon and I still do. However, my relationship with it is changing. When I first went, I didn't know anyone and so it was like attending a set of literary seminars. (Yes, that's a compliment.) Over the years, how I interact with Readercon has become progressively social. I think I've only realized it this year because this is the year where, as much as I like everyone I spent time with, it was a relief to get away for a bit.

Readercon, actually any con, is only going to get more social for me. I don't know what to do about that yet. (Like I said, the right answer may be to get a hotel room for any con I go to. I can't be the only person who get a hotel room despite being local to a con?) From previous experience, it doesn't seem likely I'll figure out how to be more social without hitting some point where I just need to get away and recharge. (I'm a bit envious of the people who can spent lots and lots of time dealing with people. For me, it really is work.)

This week, Beneath Ceaseless Skies podcast "Bearslayer and the Black Night" by Tom Crosshill. I listened to it on the way to work. Because of the story's structure and the way it uses scene breaks, it made more sense when I read it afterwards. (Also, colonists were marching to the drum on the side of the road. For that stretch of the morning commute, I was more concerned about the traffic disruption. I'd have expect them to march on Patriot's Day, not several days after. However, even having lived here over a decade now, I'm still not up on the local ways.)

I have decidedly mixed feelings about this story. At the end of the day, it's probably no fault of the story and more a fault of the context the story finds itself.

On one hand, it's exceptionally well written. The voice of the story is dead on for what it wants to accomplish. I love the cross-cutting between how legend records the main characters and what actually happened. The story uses lots of specific, vivid details to build the world and reinforce the bind the characters find themselves in. That he gets across so much in so few words is masterful. (And the story is precisely the right length.)

On the other hand, I've pretty much read my fill of stories where gay lovers die. No, strictly speaking, they are not killed because they are lovers. They are killed because they are the champions of their respective tribes but refuse to fight each other. Do I really need to interrogate why they refuse to fight each other though?

(No, that they are lovers is not the only reason, but it's hard to argue that it is not a reason. I mean they kiss "And it burned those who watched. Cries of outrage rent the air like sharpened spears. Snarls of hatred boomed forth like blasts of gunpowder. Latts and Greni both grasped for blades that had never seen blood until this day. The ground shook as they charged their champions." No, I'm not saying that one shouldn't depict homophobia in stories. I'm saying it's tiring that the outcome is always that the gay characters die. There are lots of possible stories. Why do we always tell this one?)

Do I need to point out that, of course, that legend erases their love for each other? (Not saying that this is implausible. Just saying I've seen this a lot. Can I please see something else now?)

Of course, it's not that there are no stories where straight lovers die. However, there are also lots of stories where straight lovers live. When they do die, they are rarely killed because they are straight. I suppose it's possible to tell this story exactly as is except that one of the lovers is female. In practice, you rarely see it though. In other words, I shout "feh!" at your false equivalence.

I've hit the point where I really don't care how plausible or how justified the killing is. It'd just be nice to read stories where gay characters who face death survive. Why go for the cliched ending?

If there were lots and lots of stories that do not present death as the predestined fate of gay characters, the ending of this story wouldn't bug me as much. However, gay characters don't get very much representation in this sort of fiction. It's disheartening then that when I do find a genre story with gay characters, it falls victim to this trope (with no visible attempt to deconstruct or subvert it).

Again, I'm not saying anyone should or shouldn't do anything. I'm just saying that I've read this story before and I'd like for there to be something else to read. (It's not as simple as "I'd like to read something else." Someone has to write it, people have to want it, then someone has to publish it.)

I've sold a story to Bloody Fabulous, Ekaterina Sedia's anthology of fantasy about fashion for Prime Books. It's my first SFWA-eligible sale. Yay!

My story, "Thirty Seconds From Now" is now up on the Boston Review website. (The magazine doesn't have the greatest newsstand circulation. Seeing my story on the web is actually more exciting than getting my author copy of the magazine.)

My contributor copy of Boston Review just showed up in the mail. They took my story last September, so it's been a wait...

On one hand, the editors told me it would be in this issue. They gave the story a lovely edit at the beginning of July. Getting a copy of the magazine with my story in it isn't exactly a surprise. It's still a shock though.

Almost forgot, speaking of being accosted by strangers...

The managing editor at Boston Review emailed me his edit of "30 Seconds from Now." This, at least, I'd been warned about. A co-editor had emailed me earlier this week to tell me that they've scheduled my story for publication.

I agree with most of his edits. In addition, there are like three additional words I want to fix. The file is all set to email back, but I want to go over it one more time first. If all goes well, my story will be in the Sept/Oct. issue of Boston Review.

ETA: links to Boston Review