Day in the Life of an Idiot

Being at home with the pandemic seems to make me very sensitive to the weather. Today, in Saint Paul, it's warm, but overcast, and I'm feeling a bit gloomy myself. 

Once Mason is awake, I hope to go on a big explore with him. We haven't done that since he was a kid and... well, even though distance learning starts for Saint Paul Schools today, we've got the time. St. Paul is attempting asynchronous learning, which most online course are? The whole idea that you can do them at your own time/pace, so long as you do the work by whatever deadline. This has given my teen much joy, as he would much rather sleep in until after ten, at the very least.

I'm also bummed because, while I know all of you have done your part, the pre-orders for Unjust Cause have not been stellar so far. I am, of course, blaming myself. I have no idea who reviews paranormal romance any more and, of course, Precinct 13 came out in 2012, which is, let me do the math:  A LONG TIME AGO. So, no one is exactly clamoring for the next book in the series.  

But this fuels my "I am not woooorrrrthy" feels, which I have been struggling with since Penguin dropped me in, oh, let's see, 2012.  

I just spent several minutes trying to find paranormal romance/urban fantasy reviewers out there. If you know of any who might review my book, please let me know and I will pass that on to my publisher. 

I'm also going to see if I can figure out how to do a live-stream reading of my book.

But, yeah, between this and a general (obvious) sense of doom and gloom, and some conversations that just depressed me today because they highlighted a certain kind of selfishness that I find annoying, I'm thinking very hard about crawling back into bed and hiding.

Oh, and my coffee shop closed its doors, even to curbside deliveries now.

F*ck.

Please share good news, if you have some!

According to my friends here at Amore Coffee, it's possible that I'm having an allergy attack even though I have no outward symptoms other than just being tired and sort of out of it. It makes a certain kind of sense. I wonder if taking an antihystimine will help? I may try later.

Today is Thursday, which is my busy day. In a little bit I need to go home and change the fish tanks, do a little housework, and then head off to Mason's school for volunteer foldering (which is better than conscripted foldering, believe you me.) Tonight is Wyrdsmiths, which I'm looking forward to, and I'm almost ready for -- I need to finish reading Eleanor's short story and print out the next chapter of Tate's ALMOST FINAL CURTAIN, which is the sequel to ALMOST TO DIE FOR (coming out in August.)

I'm still waiting to hear from my editor about the various proposals I sent her way. The funny cow mutilation mystery was apparently going to be sent to a different editor as humorous chick-litty stuff isn't doing well in trade. I asked what was, and the answer was "darker stuff" so I sent along a proposal of that variety too.

In the waiting period, I find myself starting to wonder "what if?" As in, what if my editor declines to buy an adult book? The good news is that Tate is still contracted to do two more books in the YA series mentioned above (the one I'm working on, and a third,) which means that unless they somehow renig I still have a job until 2011. Which, given the economy and book publishing in general, is nothing to sneeze at.

I'm thinking about the business of publishing because one of the tasks I've set for myself this week is ordering publicity postcards for both of Tate's releases as well as some kind of similar thing for RESURRECTION CODE. I always start to get anxious about a month before a book comes out, and that's now. HONEYMOON OF THE DEAD is coming out in May. I have a signing set up at Uncles, and I need to start getting the word out about that too.

Stuff to do!

I should probably take a page out of Shawn's book at make a list.

In other totally unrelated news, Mason got his hearing tested at school yesterday. This was just one of those things he randomly informed us of (getting information about what happened at school in any given day is like any one of those metaphors about doing the impossible ala squeezing blood from a herd of cats.) Apparently, it was just him. This doesn't surprise me. Mason has failed casual hearing tests at the doctors, but always passes the more intense ones with specialists. According to Mason, he passed the school's hearing test. Some of it, IMHO, has to do with the fact that when Mason concentrates he cuts out the world. This means when he's reading, I usually have to put my hand in front of the book and say his name, despite having shouted it repeatedly while trying to get his attention. I think, too, when he's daydreaming or thinking his own thoughts, he can do this as well. But he also has classic moments when he mishears things that are clearly spoken, too. Just the other night he thought mama said something about "bread pudding" when she's said "putting" things away or something similiar sounding.

So I'm not surprised that Mason's teacher thought to have his hearing tested. I'm equally unsurprised that he passed.

The biggest mystery is if Mason's teacher will talk to me about it today when I go in for foldering. We have NEVER quite bonded with this teacher the way we have with the two previous. We had some trouble with Mason's kindergarten teacher at first, but once we worked through it we became quite close (in fact, she came up to me the other day to say she'd read about my work out outfit on Facebook and had a laugh imagining it.) I have actually wondered if this "new" teacher is a little afraid of me. Why, you ask? Well, I am a scary butch lesbian, you know, even if I do wear hot pink sparkly workout outfits. And Shawn and I have come on pretty strong with her over the issue of Mason's reading privledges in the library, if you recall. Anyway, I've been volunteering there since school began and she still calls me Ms. Morehouse and is weirdly defferental. Perhaps she's being polite, but whatever it is we've never been able to bridge it to have a relaxed relationship.

You can't be friends with everyone though.

Mason, however, is making progress with the kids across the street. Yesterday when we came home they were out playing and he ran over to join them. Mama actually got to do that 1970s thing of calling him home to dinner. It was pretty awesome, actually. And they told him that he's welcome to knock on the door if he doesn't see them outside. I'm super glad he's getting this kind of experience. Much of my youth was spent going up the block to hang out at Holly Halverson's house or joining the neighborhood kickball games (although that last was more rare despite the fact that our corner was always home plate. The kids who organized that were older and, I preceived, meaner.)