BitchBuzz and Over the Edge

I'm fighting off a cold that seemed to ride my coattails from London but if I'm feeling not too bad, I plan to head off to Over the Edge's reading tonight at the library (where I am now mayor :-) and perhaps try out a new piece at the open mic if there's room. A rather silly piece, but one I'm already fond of and having run it by a couple of people, I'd love to hear how it goes over with a crowd.

My column nearly didn't happen this week: I tried a couple of different things and nothing jelled (maybe it was coming down with this cold -- can't remember the last time I was sick!). So I emailed my editor to admit defeat and voilá! She had something for me to write up. Looks like a fun event:

Put the Kink in Your Ink at Eroticon 2012

By K. A. Laity

One of the undeniable effects of the ebook revolution is the explosion of erotica and erotic romance particularly for female readers. Freed from the dead giveaway of the saucy cover, women now fill up their Kindles and mobile devices with a glorious variety of fun smut and sexy takes. It's about time someone got some of the practitioners of this writing genre together.

Eroticon 2012 will be the UK’s first sex bloggers and erotica writers conference and will take place on March 3rd next year. Over 100 sex bloggers and erotica writers will meet in Bristol for a unique conference.  Eroticon is the UK’s first conference aimed exclusively at sex bloggers and erotica writers and has a schedule crammed full of great sessions and speakers.

The conference is the brainchild of erotic author Ruby Kiddell, who says:

"The idea for Eroticon came about having attended the Cybermummy conference where I was sponsored through my erotic writing site.  There were other sex bloggers there and I knew that we held back in discussing the content of our blogs in such a general atmosphere and so I conceived Eroticon, a blogging conference exclusively for those writing about sex online..."

Read the rest over at BBHQ!

Entertainments

I'm the guest today over at Amber Polo's WordShaping blog, talking about why I write in the fantasy genre. Drop by and leave a comment! Amber is a fellow Broad. I always find it interesting the things I figure out when interviewed. A lot of things never get articulated until somebody asks you a few questions. As we all know, I have to be prodded a bit to talk about myself.

Yesterday I dropped off my mixed-media art piece, "The Square Root of I is I." Here's a little preview of the piece sitting in the midst of clutter on the table before I packed it up to take to the Arts Center. I understand at present the idea is to put it on a pedestal. They're going to be hanging the exhibit tomorrow, I believe. While dropping off the piece I ran into my colleague who's also in the show. He has an installation that will require him to be there for a few hours at a time, being a writer at his desk. I am far too lazy for that kind of thing. I am looking forward to the opening event on the 28th. I will wear my beret so I fit in.

On Thursday -- in addition to a fabulous lunch with Crispinus (thanks for the map of Roma!) -- I headed off to see Rasputina in Hudson. This was my first visit to the newest incarnation of Club Helsinki and I have to say, wow! Swank! We got there early and had a tasty dinner and a front row seat. I was fascinated by Melissa Bell Dawn Miceli's drum kit which incorporated a djembe, tambourine and bells along with the bass drum and tom. She played the whole set with big beaters and gave a unique sound. Founder and guiding spirit Melora Creager introduced each song with her clipped delivery and dry humour. While the idea of a guy playing with the band seemed unthinkable, Daniel DeJesus showed amazing facility and his cello meshed perfectly as a complement to Melora's. It was no surprise to find their new songs like "Snow-Hen of Austerlitz,""Calico Indians" and "A Holocaust of Giants" intrigued with historical references and their signature ethereal sound, though with more of a "tribal" vibe, largely due to the drums and percussion. What really struck me was the covers, because they really highlight the uniqueness of Rasputina's style. Their rendition of "Wish You Were Here" has an amazing quality of longing that's entirely dependent on the warm cello strings. It is impossible to convey the sheer delight in their rocking version of "Barracuda" -- the cellos sounded like hoofbeats. It was amazing! And they out-mooded the Smiths with their rendition of "How Soon Is Now?" A delight through and through.  Voltaire opened the show with his unique brand of gruesome humour. His new turn toward kid's music and country music left a kind of disjointed feel to the set.

 I think it was fate on Friday night: I had an embarrassment of riches offered to me that made it hard to choose between. I was saved the need to choose by unexpectedly having to spend my Friday night in the emergency room at St. Peter's.

Don't worry: I'm all right!

I had gone to my doctor with a pain in my leg that's been there all week. Not so bad, but the leg had swelled up Thursday night, so I wanted to be sure it wasn't anything alarming. The doctor thought the same thing, but as it was already late afternoon when I finally got in and no imaging places were open.  The only option left to get an ultrasound was the ER. The folks at at St. Peter's are quite friendly, but they're also very very busy. Of the three hours I spent there, a large part of it was spent sitting on a stretcher in a hallway because there was no room available. I didn't feel too bad when I overheard the nurses talking with a (clearly much loved) doctor who used to work there who was waiting on a room for his wife. If he couldn't get a room, there were no rooms to be had for sure, so I sat on my stretcher and read Trollope on my iTouch. Several people referred to the ultrasound as "the doppler" so I was amused to think they were observing the weather in my leg. Surely something will come of that. In the imaging suite, someone was listening to "Imagine" which seemed apropos. The scan showed nothing alarming, so that was a relief, though it took another half hour or so before the doctor finally told me what the doppler-driver had already told me. So it may just be a bad muscle strain. Wrapping my calf and knee has seemed to alleviate the pain somewhat -- elevating it, too, rather than sitting hour upon hour at the computer :-\ also a good idea. I'll check back with my own doctor tomorrow. It should be fine.

Where are my Minions?

After a week of being ill and getting next to nothing done, I am feeling the pinch. So much email has piled up in my inbox that I feel quite harried and I've taken the extraordinary measure of not giving my students any homework this week so far (awful, I know). It is days like this that make me wonder why I try to do so much, but then again, I know why. Because when I'm not ill, my head is so full of ideas that I can hardly keep my skull from popping open. They all want to get out and be real, like little Pinocchios.

The ideas are wonderful: it's the tedious things that get me frustrated. All those things that could be done by somebody who is not me -- typing, filing, mailing, sorting. If I had more money, I would pay someone else to do those tasks. My most recent payment for my writing, however, won't buy much more than lunch. Thus I remain minion-free -- and all the ideas that might bring me a better royalty payments have to wait until the more pressing but less inspiring tasks are done.

On the plus side, one editor called my work "dazzling" this week and another made reference to my "fan base" (!), so there are some (intangible, unpaid) benefits. After reading Chris Anderson's Free, I'm still contemplating the impact of the abundance of free content on the web and how it's turning the publishing world upside down. It's going to take some time for it to all shake out. Exciting times we live in -- full of confusion and frustration, sure, but also brand new opportunities.

Purely Medicinal

A lovely gift arrived from my friend Chloë in Switzerland:



Quite decadent, eh? Especially since I managed to get my codeine cough syrup in the background as well. What every writer needs (except I've done little writing this week). She sent dark chocolate with hazelnuts, too! Why is it so difficult to get good chocolate at a reasonable price in the States? Why do people settle for the awfulness of Hershey's?

Slowly getting better; still coughing a lot but not as much. The codeine has certainly made it possible to sleep (yes, even with the squirrels still dancing about overhead). My already high daily tea quotient has gone up even higher this week. I hate being sick; I don't seem to get anything done. But maybe I need sleep more.

BitchBuzz: Facebook Crowded?

My latest column at BitchBuzz is up, about the effects of Facebook's enormous size and attempts to wrangle that power:

Sure, I can understand that the estimated 300 million people on Facebook are going to create a hubbub that makes it increasingly difficult to be heard and I'm not going to point fingers at number 299 millionth person (when it was really the 718,543rd one anyway, I'm looking at you, Edith). Nonetheless, the strains of this enormous size have become apparent.

It may be the codeine for my sinusitis talking (mmm, codeine — as close as the average person ever gets to laudanum, that nectar of the Romantic poets), but those crowds of newbies have begun to suck the life out Facebook...

As ever, read the rest over at BBHQ. Of course, it's not really about the new folks -- after all, it's the new folks who keep FB alive. It's about what I suspect is a rather ham-fisted attempt to manipulate FB's legions.

I wasn't even sure I would write a column this week: I have been truly sick. I finally broke down and went to the doctor, mostly because I thought the cold had turned out to be bronchitis and that takes so long to get rid of. Instead it turns out to be acute sinusitis, which seems to mean a wild inflammation of the ears, nose and throat, eliciting mutterings of "oooh, that's not good" with every look the doc took. Now I have antibiotics and codeine cough syrup, which I credit with finally really sleeping for the first time last night.

Sleep deprivation is a debilitating thing; it was the coughing mostly that kept me awake. The muscles in my lower back and diaphragm ache from all the coughing. I felt as if I were auditioning for the part of Beth or at least Camille.

I didn't teach at all this week, which is very weird. Much to catch up -- yes, of course I gave them assignments, but it's not the same. I am definitely feeling better, though still coughing and still finding concentration difficult. I left a brand new package of envelopes and my address labels at the post office the other day. D'oh! Oh well.

I got some videos from the library while I was out: the latest BBC version of Wuthering Heights (fun), Hamlet 2 (no fun) and the two-disk version of Valley of the Dolls, the camp classic. The extras are wonderful! There's some contemporary footage of the cruise ship that went from the Venice premiere to the Los Angeles one. The early days of showbiz TV reporting were quite awkward and self-conscious. Even better was the doco on Susann herself, transferred directly from bad tape. What a fascinating woman -- I learned half of what I know about promo from her bio. The clothes, the hair -- no contemporary recreation of the 60s captures the real look of that time (impossibly high hair!). Best bit was Susann talking with a radio critic who was just livid about her "dirty book". She merely laughed at him and said, "You shock easily."

Happy birthday, Russell Hoban!

My Symptoms

All right, the latter is not a symptom so much as what I heard as I woke up about every half hour through the night unable to breathe. There are at least two squirrels in the attic who show not the slightest interest in the trap.

I would be in bed, but I need toilet paper, tissues, cold medicine and to mail a bunch of comic books (yay!). The piece at Coilhouse has brought us some new interest, as perhaps has the latest wardrobe for Jane :-)

When I return, more British comedy and weepy films. Why don't I have more Garbo?