Dec. 19th, 2009

Things what I have done today:

Cleaned the bedroom and living room
Vacuumed the bedroom and living room (technically the Roomba did this)
Made reservations for the whole family to see Sherlock Holmes on Christmas Day, followed by fancy dinner downtown

(That last one is remarkably difficult. Most restaurants aren't open, and those that are have a Prix-Fixe menu that's a little out of our league, or serve food that one of us won't eat. I finally triumphed, however!)

Things what I must yet do:
WRAP CHRISTMAS PRESENT OMG
Mail two cards
Clean and vacuum the kitchen
Clean the fridge
Cook rice

I cannot wait till my family arrives, in part because they are bringing me A RICE COOKER. \o/

Now I venture out into the snow, to mail a card and buy a hamburger. :D
I've been wrangling this post over and over in my head for about a month now, perhaps a little longer, and it's still just plain messy, so I'm going to plow through and see what I can make of it.

At the start of November, a friend of mine died. Her husband's wishes are that there be no memorial post, so I'm not going to talk about who; if you knew her, you've heard by now, and if you don't know who, then you needn't worry.

K and I met via the Whofandom earlier this year, while I was working on Nameless, and we shared an interest in digital publishing and its effect on the wider world. Not to make this all about me -- though grieving usually is about the survivors -- but she was instrumental in opening my eyes to some things about writing, and my writing in particular, that I hadn't considered.

She sent me an essay on Nameless that she'd been working on, examining the use of geography and space in the novel. It was a brilliant piece of work standalone, but it brought home to me the fact that this story wasn't just being read by the Cafe or talked about it amongst people I knew. It was out there, in the world, and people were reading it and forming opinions that had nothing to do with what I thought or felt. People were analyzing what I did and finding things in the writing I hadn't consciously put there, but which were there anyway -- the same way I did in school with books I read and plays I worked on. To be the subject of that focus is at once thrilling and frightening, but endlessly educational.

She made me feel -- as the VOYA review and many people have done since, but with her, it was the first time -- like a Real Published Writer.

I've since learned through a mutual friend (to whom I am indebted for maintaining communication when K's eyesight failed her, and sharing in the mourning) that she had a wide array of literary interests and that I was in extremely respectable company under her eye. I'm glad to have known her and the thoughts she had on my work. She had notes on The Dead Isle too, which I expect to have in due time, when the sorting and sifting and other work is done. I'm very much looking forward to hearing what she said about it.

Um, there's no real point to this post, really, except to say that K did this thing for me, and was a friend. I want to put out there in the world that I miss her, I wish I'd known her better, and I wish I'd known her longer. Grief is natural and fades, and I'm okay; but I wanted to say it, so that it's there.

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