Sorting things out (706 words)

Actually I've been futzing around with the plot for this chapter. There are things I originally planned on happening and I think I klind of spiked them with the things that ahve already happened, and I don't want to further the labor dispute aspect of the story until I figure that out. But I have sort of felt out an alternation between the family life part of the story and the labor dispute part of the story. Cast of thousands. But it's that kind of story.

One of these days I have to write a story without a kajillion supporting characters and walk-ons, or maybe not, since the stories are all kind of about the shapes of communities, among other things.

I've been writing a new query letter aimed at an editor who is "interested in hard SF, epic F (most popular is realistic made-up history), romantic F, SF with heavy romantic elements." Since the Chuy book has hard sf elements and also heavy romantic elements, maybe he will like it. I am telling myself that the same-sex aspect of the romantic elements, and the communal-household aspect of the happily ever after dreams of the protagonist, are not hurdles -- it's science fiction and in science fictionyou're supposed to expect strange worlds with strange cultures and social organizations.

But isn't that a funny combination of interests for an editor? I think it's not his personal reading preferences but what he thinks his various readerships are looking for. Which makes it not odd at all.

So, I wrote a little on Afterwar and I've got most of the query letter written and now I have to get things ready so I can leave town. It's been raining. I just hope it's not raining when I'm on Highway 17. Oh dog, do I hope it's not raining on 17. It will be bad enough if it's raining on the other freeways, but 17 is crazy making at the best of times. One of the reasons I don't go places much without the nice fellow along to drive.

I'm not in San Francisco (but I will be)

I was catching myself doing stupid things while driving around town doing errands and figured I had better go up in the morning instead of tonight. Emma suggested it, but the nice fellow talked me into it. Good thing: I've made a really pretty handout for the panel, with all the important human development stuff on one page. And I printed up a bunch of reference material for me to crib from. Next up: some examples. But I'll want to leave well before 8, to get there well before 10.

I have just been weird all day, as if I were getting sick. I don't know if it's entirely the rejection, or the general feeling of not accomplishing anything, or if I'm actually getting sick.

Emma's friend has a folding wheelchair for no particular reason -- so she doesn't have to wait on healing to go to museums and the Aquarium and stuff. This is good.

I don't have anything to say on the soldiers shooting at the car bringing Giuliana Sgrena out of captivity and killing
Nicola Calipari -- I mean I don't have anything to say that annafdd didn't already say best.

It's just typical of the whole operation -- no intelligence, just reactive shooting all over the place.