I’m rather acutely aware I haven’t said anything here for weeks. It’s not guilt, exactly, but it is, I blush to admit, a cause for concern. To ME, mind you. I know how much I look forward to reading the blogs of friends, and I also am acutely aware that I check the numbers if not obsessively, pretend casual. You know how to do pretend casual? That’s when you get a book in which you were Tuckerized (your name used for a character) and you flip through it, pretending that you’re just oh, flipping through the book. NOT of course that you’re trying to find your name. No, no no. And of course I don’t check the numbers here. Much. Of course, knowing that oh, two of every 10 clicks (ok, FOUR, ok?) are mine, checking IN to see if anyone’s commented and if I should be responding, but as I write this, the number just went over 60,000. YOW! See, I have no idea who reads this but for you folks who comment. I do see the list of email addresses when folks subscribe, but there are RSS and all sorts of feeds and people who just drop by, I assume. Realizing also that this is year THREE in the life of this blog is a tad mind boggling too. Wow.

So why haven’t I been writing? I have no idea. I want to say “I haven’t had anything to say” but um, snort, that seldom has stopped me before, right? I haven’t really had a lot of energy. I am aware of how often I talk about my disability and the pain and the general crappiness of it all and I’m not quite aware of how interesting or boring you find it. NOT that that stops me, of course – It’s my blog and I’ll whine if I want to, right? (thanks Lesley G). But I’d like to be able to mix it up. And I haven’t had all that much to say lately.

What’s going on? I seem to be dealing in part with a pretty major case of burn-out. Some of you have talked about this in emails we’ve been sharing, regarding DorothyL. Some of it is most definitely convention-related. I’m flat out tired of much of the scene and I don’t WANT to be, if that makes sense. But since we closed up shop on Left Coast, wrote our last checks and waved bye-bye, I’ve been really uncaring and unfeeling about it all. I haven’t made plans to attend a single convention, haven’t booked for Anchorage or Denver. Will NOT book for Hawaii. It’s hard to believe, since I love attending conventions, love seeing my friends – meeting new, catching up with old – but I’m sick to DEATH of the hassles of traveling with a scooter and a disability. It is ALWAYS A HASSLE. If it’s not that the accessible room isn’t available or isn’t really accessible, it’s getting the hotel to pick me up (and finding out they have no accessible/lift equipped van and no clue). If it’s not an airline losing the scooter (just once, but I don’t forget things like that) it’s the frustration of wanting to bring the laptop and knowing I can’t because I already have to track the scooter and a suitcase. It’s the knowledge that I’m spending money I should not be spending. My income is a little over $1000 a month and I’m in debt on credit cards that would not worry someone with a job, but which is really ugly when you are at the level I’m at. I justify conventions a lot, joking that they are sure cheaper than therapy, but the last few I’ve attended were paid for – I was working for LCC a lot during the last few cons, and in one case, got financial help from a wonderful friend. But now, I am not promoting, taking memberships, chatting about program, doing anything convention related. My con running is OVER. DONE. I’m through.

The hassles of attending a convention are sometimes minor but they always are there. And when they are as bad as they can be, I’m reminded – this sounds way over the top I know – of how litle oI matter in the big scheme of things. When in one case no one bothers to check if the building OR the shuttle are accessible, it hurts. When I have to spend hours on the phone, hours and hours of my time finding a ride from the airport to the hotel and then explaining to the hotel why they have to pay for it, it’s dismaying. When I go to some event where the bodies are packed so tightly I can’t get into/out of the room, it’s not worth it. And in cases where the trip will be more than say 3 hours, it’s miserable. So I can’t convince myself to bother.

With DL, many of us have discussed this. I’m very very VERY tired of the lsit right now. It’s packed with authors talking author stuff and I’m not especially interested. I went “no mail” for a month and came back to the same old same old topics that have been regularly around for years. I don’t really CARE and whether that’s new and reflects my burn-out or it’s old, my patience is limited. I don’t CARE where people read, whether in the tub or on the sofa. I don’t care if animals get killed in mysteries. I think people are just as “innocent” in fiction as puppies are and I will simply never understand how people can read women-in-jeopardy, serial killer, or other murder novels and be put off when the villain kicks a cat. I don’t get anything out of reading posts that say “what I’m reading” because, because um, well, and? I don’t GET it. I don’t get why that is interesting. I don’t want to hear people complaining that adults in crime novels use naughty language. I’m tired to bits of the mailing list hogs who post every thought that comes into their heads and take up half the list, even when half their post is quoting the last guy (a little judicious editing would help here, huh?) I don’t care about lists of books – just lists that were posted on a website. I don’t read reviews posted on DL. And I don’t remember the last time a new topic of conversation was introduced and bore fruit. And I know – please know that I do not intend to be rude to my friends who are authors and are on DL – you are part of the community and welcome but the list seems to be mostly comprised of authors lately. And authors do talk about what readers talk about – yes indeed – at least the best ones do, but the dynamic seems to have changed.

I told Stu a while back that I was scared. I’m scared that my world is diminishing. That I’M diminishing. In the last few months, I’ve had a harder and harder time walking. I’ve found that I have a little harder time concentrating – days go by when all I’ve done is played computer games and maybe done the laundry. I’m having trouble writing reviews – though no trouble reading, thank god. I don’t know how much of this is the Oxycontin, if any. But I can do less and less and I’m terrified that as MY world gets smaller, I will lose ground. Stu promised me he has seen no change in ME, which brought on massive hysterical tears, as you can imagine. Because it scare me SO to think I might be losing ground intellectually and mentally as I am physically.

The last and next few weeks are seeing a sudden burst of socializing, if I can make it to anything. I’ve missed some parties (Seattle hosts “Clarion West” in the summer, a 6 week intensive “so you wanna write science fiction/fantasy” thing and Friday night parties go with that. I’ve missed 5 of 6 and don’t k now if house #6 has stairs. If it does, well, there goes THAT idea. BUT, I got to the movies last week and this week AND we went to “Bite of Seattle” yesterday (yum, may I say at this time.) AND it looks like this week will include a basketball game. AND Stu’s cousin Len is coming to town – the cousin who of all Stu’s family I think is most like Stu,, which is why I like Len a lot.

But frankly, I feel like I’m shrinking, or withdrawing into myself like a little hedgehog, curled up in a defensive ball against danger. Walking is getting harder and reaching becomes more painful. I’m having more pain in weirder places – lots of “zots” of quick pain in my legs and I’m losing ground in smallish ways – no longer able to open certain things, lacking strength to tear up some pages, having trouble putting clothes on and shampooing hair, wondering if I should cut hair (I don’t want to) as bits of me act up more and more. I see a new doctor this week and highly doubt there is much she can do but I hope she’ll try.

So that’s why I haven’t been around much – I really truly have no desire to depress anyone with what’s going on. I think it’s pretty fucking depressing and why should YOU be depressed? I really would much rather know things are going well for people – misery does NOT love company in my experience. Sure, I love when people can empathize and know what it’s like, but my experience is that it does not help to know someone else is having a bad time. Funny – I’ve had friends who won’t complain because “well, compared to YOU it’s just a little cut” or something until I go into my “pain is pain” routine and explain that just because this shit is happening to me doesn’t mean shit ISN’T happening to you and can I help. Getting out of yourself, if you’re anything like me, is a damn good thing. Which of course is why I am so glad I can still read – what a true way to get out of yourself. I’m reading 2 books right now – at the same time! No, wait…..

So reading stuff. The weird one? Last week I sat down with a library book that focused on the civil rights movement. A novel called MAGIC TIME, set in the early '90s and in the summer of ’64, “Freedom Summer”. Don’t recall where I read about it. I was about 100 pages into when I saw in the news that cartoonist Doug Marlette had died on July 10 in a car accident.

Who wrote MAGIC TIME?

Doug Marlette.