The Furious Spinner

The sun is shining while clouds float through the Gorge, like a flock of giant Caspers the friendly ghosts. It was raining here at my house but snowing on the cliffs. I can watch rain and snow fall at the same time.

I finally got the publishing news I was waiting for, but it didn't help me sleep. Got it at 4:00 a.m., and I've been up ever since. It wasn't good news. I knew if I woke up Mario to tell him he wouldn't be able to sleep either, so I went back up to bed and lay next to my sweetie until 7:00 a.m. when he woke up. Then I told him. He was not a happy camper.

So all morning Mario and I have been gathering up books to sell and things to return to stores. We thought I had made a book sale, but we did something we have never done before: we didn't wait for the contract. We didn't buy a lot, mind you, just some things we needed, including books for research, etc. I didn't apply for a couple of jobs I should have applied for, too, because I figured I would be writing this book. Now we're scrambling for money even more than usual. Isn't it fun? So I'm thinking perhaps the Universe wants me to try doing something else with my life beside being a writer. What do you think? Got any ideas? Really.

I've written all of my life, but I can do other things. I have a Master of Arts and a Master of Library Science. I still do some library work at home: I buy books for our library system. I need to work mostly at home because of health reasons. I've studied with healers and shamans for ten years, but I don't think that's gonna bring me any dough. I've done eco-art, but, again, ain't gonna make a living thataway. I work quickly and am relatively easy to get along with. I'm creative, artistic, organized, a great researcher and editor. I do great dialogue. And I'm fairly certain the FBI already has a file on me. Must be some way I can earn a living, eh?

I remember a friend of mine telling me years ago that she was afraid of becoming a bag lady. I didn't really understand her fear, because I figured I would always be able to do something. Of course, now, I understand how people end up in the street—not that that is going to happen to me. I'm not saying that. But I understand how it can happen. Illness and/or bad economics can strike anyone at any time. I have great compassion for homeless people. They're not all crazy drug addicts. Some of them are people just like us. But enough whining, Mario and I are off to sell books at Powell's. Wish us good luck!

On the good news front, I sold a story to Jeanne Cavelos, plus I've got an essay out in the Winter issue of The Beltane Papers. They have it laid out as a poem, which is cool by me, but it is one of the essays from Falling. Some of you have read essays from Falling on my website. I have two essays coming out in the autumn issue of Terri Windling's marvelous Journal of Mythic Arts. That should be up soon. Mario has two poems in the issue, too. Look over the whole site. It is amazing. And read Terri's essays. She knows more about fairy tales than anyone else, and her writing is exquisite. 0 comments

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