Meme and a Lakism
Dec. 7th, 2008 06:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leahbobetI have been fighting a deathly battle against an invading force in my sinuses since about Wednesday night, where fighting a deathly battle equals coughing up gunk, blowing gunk out of my noise, and talking in gestures where I'm not talking in a weird creaky alien voice. I'm pretty sure the tide is turning, since yesterday morning when I blew my nose after getting up a green alien baby the size of my little finger was flushed out. I swear, it had solid bits and everything. I was simultaneously totally grossed out and completely enraptured. Even when they're totally malfunctioning, bodies can be neat.
There was no alien baby this morning, so I suspect yesterday's symbiont was the root cause of my sorrows and now it is gone.
(For those not familiar with my personal coinages which I told only three people about: Lakism [noun]: Something nasty and TMI, usually to do with a bodily fluid or somesuch, which you immediately put on the internet. Named in affectionate honour of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jaylake, expert practitioner if not originator of the practice. Also known as "Ew! That's so disgusting! Everyone come look!".)
This means I'm sorta dumb and sleepy, never mind a little annoyed about possibly having to stay home from work tomorrow unless this crackling in my ears gets gone and my voice comes back (I like my work), and so you get a meme.
Age when I decided I wanted to be a writer: 8, when we had an author visit at school which...my brain tells me was either Claire Mackay and/or the writer of a book about Cabbagetown in the Great Depression? Wherein I ballsily (as was my habit at the time) informed said author I wanted to be a writer too. She actually did contact me and ask if I wanted to send something to some anthology for kids-by kids, but I think I was spooked off.
Age when I wrote my first story: 19, not counting juvenilia. Counting juvenilia, 3. It's in crayon. My mom still has it, and it displays a freakily coherent narrative arc.
Age when I first submitted a short story to a magazine: 19
Age when I sold my first short story: 19 ("Playing the Dozens" to Ideomancer)
Age of my first professional sale: 21 or 22. It was right around my birthday, and it was actually my first two; I had acceptances come in from Strange Horizons and Realms of Fantasy inside eight hours of each other. That was a kind of rocking day.
Total number of submissions: 637. Most of them pre-2005. I've slowed down.
Total acceptances: 78
Thickness of file of rejection slips prior to first story sale: 16
Approximate number of short stories/novelettes/novellas sold for cash money: 36. And one for free when I was first starting out, but we don't acknowledge that publication and it's been offline forever and you will never see it ahahahaha.
Age at first Year's Best reprint: 22
Poems sold: 31
Age when I started writing my first novel: 20
Age when I started writing my first completed novel: 20
Age I finished that novel: 20
Age I started my second novel: 21
Age I finished my second novel: 21
Age when I sold a first novel: Pending!
Total number of novels written: *counts off on fingers* 5. And several false starts.
Books sold: Nada. I only really did query two of those, and inside a year with each I could see why I wasn't going to sell them as-is. Those two are in a box for redrafting one of these days to fix their suckitude. And one is Above, which has yet to reach the query bit.
Books in the process of querying: None.
Age when first nominated for an award: 21, I think?
Age when first won an award: 21
Nominations: 4
Awards won: 1
Age when first applied for an arts grant: 23
Age when first got an arts grant: 26
Short stories in the slush: 6
Short stories written this year: *cough* 1. I was busy. There was a book to write and a degree to finish and a job to get and--stop looking at me like that!
Age when I became a full-time novelist: Probably never. I have noticed that I don't function well when I lack external structure to my day. So even if I land in the J.K. Rowling/Stephen King pit of money (never happen), I would at least maintain a part-time job to keep myself from going batshit and gnawing my own arm off.
Age now: 26
I'm sure that wasdull edifying. :p
There was no alien baby this morning, so I suspect yesterday's symbiont was the root cause of my sorrows and now it is gone.
(For those not familiar with my personal coinages which I told only three people about: Lakism [noun]: Something nasty and TMI, usually to do with a bodily fluid or somesuch, which you immediately put on the internet. Named in affectionate honour of
jaylake, expert practitioner if not originator of the practice. Also known as "Ew! That's so disgusting! Everyone come look!".)This means I'm sorta dumb and sleepy, never mind a little annoyed about possibly having to stay home from work tomorrow unless this crackling in my ears gets gone and my voice comes back (I like my work), and so you get a meme.
Age when I decided I wanted to be a writer: 8, when we had an author visit at school which...my brain tells me was either Claire Mackay and/or the writer of a book about Cabbagetown in the Great Depression? Wherein I ballsily (as was my habit at the time) informed said author I wanted to be a writer too. She actually did contact me and ask if I wanted to send something to some anthology for kids-by kids, but I think I was spooked off.
Age when I wrote my first story: 19, not counting juvenilia. Counting juvenilia, 3. It's in crayon. My mom still has it, and it displays a freakily coherent narrative arc.
Age when I first submitted a short story to a magazine: 19
Age when I sold my first short story: 19 ("Playing the Dozens" to Ideomancer)
Age of my first professional sale: 21 or 22. It was right around my birthday, and it was actually my first two; I had acceptances come in from Strange Horizons and Realms of Fantasy inside eight hours of each other. That was a kind of rocking day.
Total number of submissions: 637. Most of them pre-2005. I've slowed down.
Total acceptances: 78
Thickness of file of rejection slips prior to first story sale: 16
Approximate number of short stories/novelettes/novellas sold for cash money: 36. And one for free when I was first starting out, but we don't acknowledge that publication and it's been offline forever and you will never see it ahahahaha.
Age at first Year's Best reprint: 22
Poems sold: 31
Age when I started writing my first novel: 20
Age when I started writing my first completed novel: 20
Age I finished that novel: 20
Age I started my second novel: 21
Age I finished my second novel: 21
Age when I sold a first novel: Pending!
Total number of novels written: *counts off on fingers* 5. And several false starts.
Books sold: Nada. I only really did query two of those, and inside a year with each I could see why I wasn't going to sell them as-is. Those two are in a box for redrafting one of these days to fix their suckitude. And one is Above, which has yet to reach the query bit.
Books in the process of querying: None.
Age when first nominated for an award: 21, I think?
Age when first won an award: 21
Nominations: 4
Awards won: 1
Age when first applied for an arts grant: 23
Age when first got an arts grant: 26
Short stories in the slush: 6
Short stories written this year: *cough* 1. I was busy. There was a book to write and a degree to finish and a job to get and--stop looking at me like that!
Age when I became a full-time novelist: Probably never. I have noticed that I don't function well when I lack external structure to my day. So even if I land in the J.K. Rowling/Stephen King pit of money (never happen), I would at least maintain a part-time job to keep myself from going batshit and gnawing my own arm off.
Age now: 26
I'm sure that was
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no subject
Date: 2008-12-08 05:49 am (UTC)However, I will stand in solidarity with you on the sinus issue! I, too, have had aborted alien fetuses come out my nose. Sometimes I have felt them slide ever...so...excruciatingly...slow...down...the...back...of...my...throat.
Gah, I'm gagging just thinking about it.
Simply Saline and my shiny-new humidifier have become my bestest friends.