This year’s conventions recede behind me. My write up of Readercon is here, for those who are interested. No photos. Not much to say.
It’s partly due to exhaustion, I think. I am an introvert trying to masquerade as an extrovert, and mostly getting away with it, but often not, and always at a price. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the experience of being with people; it’s just draining. It makes me want to disappear into the White Mountains with a backpack.
Now things have gotten more complicated. I’m dealing with a major crisis on the home front, a battle I’ve been fighting for a couple of years now. I don’t know where I will be when I get dumped out of the shaker, and there’s a remote possibility that somehow it will eventually turn out all right. But at the moment it looks like I’m losing the battle.
I’ve got all kinds of commitments all over the place, all sorts of odd balls in the air. That’s the problem with freelancing. If you’ve got a regular job, you go to work and it’s all there. Me, I’m in a dozen different places. I’ve got several websites and organizations that I’m involved with, several different publications that I submit to regularly, many of which don’t overlap in the slightest. I’ve got two short stories and a novel that have been accepted for publication and I’m waiting on the edits. And there’s the submissions I haven’t heard back from yet, and I may have to query. Plus the new leads I ought to follow up.
And suddenly damn near all my energy is getting sucked into trying not to fall off my unicycle as I peddle through the war zone of this domestic meltdown. So far so good. Some days I even feel like I’m equal to it all. No problem. I can handle this. Then I lose my balance and start wobbling frantically.
It’s Life, and it’s what happens. You think you’ve got it all figured out, all the ducks nicely lined up and contingency plans for the stragglers, then a bowling ball rolls through.
Life, damn it. But it still beats the alternative.