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Feb. 15th, 2013 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gillpolackMum is getting history through maps and me, I'm unwinding. I skipped this evening's keynote address, for it's in an auditorium that is open (a bit) to the elements and Victoria has bushfires. Each day here I get more ill, for I can't stay indoors as I did in Canberra. Mum gives me lifts where she can, but the campus hosting the conference is set up for Melbourne's mediterranean climate and full of doors and walks outside and stairs. I get clean and cool air every night though, so I start each morning off almost reasonably. I'll get through this summer, but I'm a tad tired of smoke and its side effects.
Now that my requsite whingeing is over, I am full of cheer. This is because I had some good news today. My paper was fine and I have re-read my examiner's comments and have much to think upon. I had a reader's report from another ms to compare with them and I know a great deal more about the relationship between my writing ambitions and what I actually achieve. It's actually good news. I can write (I am so hoping that comment did not provoke laughter). My main problem is still the one I was advised by senior industry people who know my work: my writing is wildly unfashionable. I need to find publishers who want my particular brank of quirk. Eventually the market style will shift, but until then, it's not going to be much chop for my readers. I'm very sorry about this! I can write, though, and there is fiction just waiting...lurking....hiding in the shadows...
In the meantime, my paper was a bit more of my NF proposal. By the end of the month (or maybe a bit into March) that will be looking for a home, since so much of the whole project is done. My mind is exploring its edges right now, and it's a lot of fun. My masterclass students in Queensland will get the whole joy of it first.
I'm all kinds of serious tonight, aren't I? I have good news, too, but it's not final yet and not ready to be made public. I want to type :insert evil laugh here: but I made all sorts of excruciatingly bad jokes during my paper today, so I shan't. I went into my panel serious, but this is such a sober mob of people. Entirely delightful (how could they not be, for they are all Medievalists and Early Moderns) but rather sombre.
Stephen Knight wasn't serious. He was, in fact, full of wit. I've wanted to meet him for almost forever and now I have. I have now met all the people I wanted to meet, including one of my undergrad teachers and several other people from my pasts. One person who was chatting with me said "You're the one with the novels, aren't you?" So this is my new self. At SF events I am the historian and at history events I am the one with the novels. Except when I have chocolate. Which I do. All I have to do is get it to Canberra and Conflux people will point to me as Gillian, the Chocolate Timelord.
I'll answer emails and things soon. I'll be back to what passes for normal soon, too, for I have run out of conferences and papers and chapters owed. I have edits owed, but that's normal.
I suddenly find it strange to have edits owed and not be able to say what for. They're small academic things, though, except the CSFG short story, which I've mentioned. That reminds me: a couple of knowledgable souls have checked my CV. I am employable. The trouble is not me, it's the dearth of jobs. This is worrying, but also comforting.
Now that my requsite whingeing is over, I am full of cheer. This is because I had some good news today. My paper was fine and I have re-read my examiner's comments and have much to think upon. I had a reader's report from another ms to compare with them and I know a great deal more about the relationship between my writing ambitions and what I actually achieve. It's actually good news. I can write (I am so hoping that comment did not provoke laughter). My main problem is still the one I was advised by senior industry people who know my work: my writing is wildly unfashionable. I need to find publishers who want my particular brank of quirk. Eventually the market style will shift, but until then, it's not going to be much chop for my readers. I'm very sorry about this! I can write, though, and there is fiction just waiting...lurking....hiding in the shadows...
In the meantime, my paper was a bit more of my NF proposal. By the end of the month (or maybe a bit into March) that will be looking for a home, since so much of the whole project is done. My mind is exploring its edges right now, and it's a lot of fun. My masterclass students in Queensland will get the whole joy of it first.
I'm all kinds of serious tonight, aren't I? I have good news, too, but it's not final yet and not ready to be made public. I want to type :insert evil laugh here: but I made all sorts of excruciatingly bad jokes during my paper today, so I shan't. I went into my panel serious, but this is such a sober mob of people. Entirely delightful (how could they not be, for they are all Medievalists and Early Moderns) but rather sombre.
Stephen Knight wasn't serious. He was, in fact, full of wit. I've wanted to meet him for almost forever and now I have. I have now met all the people I wanted to meet, including one of my undergrad teachers and several other people from my pasts. One person who was chatting with me said "You're the one with the novels, aren't you?" So this is my new self. At SF events I am the historian and at history events I am the one with the novels. Except when I have chocolate. Which I do. All I have to do is get it to Canberra and Conflux people will point to me as Gillian, the Chocolate Timelord.
I'll answer emails and things soon. I'll be back to what passes for normal soon, too, for I have run out of conferences and papers and chapters owed. I have edits owed, but that's normal.
I suddenly find it strange to have edits owed and not be able to say what for. They're small academic things, though, except the CSFG short story, which I've mentioned. That reminds me: a couple of knowledgable souls have checked my CV. I am employable. The trouble is not me, it's the dearth of jobs. This is worrying, but also comforting.