Some junk

Thanks for all the condolences. I won't be going down for the funeral, which has to happen right away for both logistical and liturgical reasons, but will be attending the mnemósynon in about forty days.

I've been enjoying the new LJs I'm reading now. Ever since I started my day job, nearly six years ago now, I've had little time/ability to write about daily life. My friend Caren used to blog, years ago, "Put on clothes, went to work" every week day, and now I see why. I suppose I could write about Oliver's green poop! It's green!

nick_kaufmann is trying to get people to visit his website by launching a guest-blog thing called "The Scariest Part." Today I write about the scariest part of my UK-hardcover-only title The Last Weekend. Check it out. (People who want the book, but who don't want to pay for transatlantic mail, should probably order from Borderlands Books, which has copies in stock.)

I liked this interview with Cheryl Strayed over at Scratch Magazine. It's about money, which is everyone's favorite subject:

I needed it to pay my rent. I had accrued $50,000 in credit card debt to write that book. The same thing happened later with Wild, only I was in deeper debt. So I got that check for Torch, and it was gone the next day. I actually paid my credit card bill. Poof!

Then I did revisions, and I had a baby, and the next check didn’t come until 2005. I got my third check in February 2006, when it was published, and my final check when the paperback came out in 2007.

So I sold my book for $100,000, and what I received was a check for about $21,000 a year over the course of four years, and I paid a third of that to the IRS. Don't get me wrong, the book deal helped a lot—it was like getting a grant every year for four years. But it wasn't enough to live off. So, I guess it was a humbling lesson!



Finally, re: the Hugo Awards, I presume my comments from before the ballot came out make more sense now, right?