(no subject)

I'm Schroedinger's Gillian. I thought I was poised at the brink of a career, for that's what the common assumption seems to be - that one finishes a degree and is qualified and then one simply has to move into the next phase.

Except that the writing and academia combination doesn't work that way. Until I get a job offer, I'm still working in the field, just for next-to-no income. I'm still teaching, I'm just not teaching degree students. I'm still writing (and my list of publications is most definitely going to grow in the near future) but my novels are currently of the "I love this but totally cannot market it, sorry" variety (publishers ask for them, knowing I'm an interstitial writer who writes gentle stories with steady sales and then they're surprised to find out that my latest novel isn't a fast-paced adventure). So I am a novelist and I am not a novelist. I am an academic and I am not an academic. I have work and I have no work. I am Schroedinger's Gillian.

If someone opens the box and it's all negatives, I have to give up my fiction and my research and my teaching and that's something I don't want to do. I want someone to open the box and shout down to me "You have a job, and a novel coming out and a couple more short stories and... oh yes, those academic articles."

In the interim, I have to act as if I am fully-functioning (conference papers, chapters, book proposals) and also prepare for it all to go wrong. Which is life as usual, I guess. At least I have enough money to get myself through summer and a bit over for other matters. Yay for university scholarships and the saving thereof!

Schroedinger's Gillian has to live in two realities at once, so I'm spending some of my carefully-hoarded scholarship money on fixing my flat so that it no longer falls down around my ears. It's preparing for more poverty (making a limited environment liveable) and also preparing for a future (if I have to move, I'll need to sell the flat).

It was, in fact, booking a time with a handyman that convinced me I was Schroedinger's Gillian. BY the middle of February next year the peeling paint will be a thing of history, and the falling tiles will be fixed and grouted and the 70s wallpaper will be replaced and the bathroom will be demoulded (again) and repainted. If the money goes even further, then the kitchen will be improved.

If someone opens the box, I'll let you know my status. In the interim, you really ought to know that it's not comfortable inside this box. Fixed realities are far easier to handle.

(no subject)

I'm finishing things up before the Gender Games conference.

While contemplating various deadlines (and nearly reaching one - another ten minutes will do it!), I received the draft ANZAMEMs conference program. Not a lot of papers on modern Medievalism this time. I shall stand tall and represent science fiction (or something).

What's very odd is that I know a full dozen paper-givers. A few of them are new friends from Leeds last year, but most of them are people who knew me in my earlier manifestation. I hope they know about the novels and the second doctorate, otherwise things are going to get very interesting, since my paper is very much going to be about the Middle Ages in key SF novels. On the other hand, I have the late Friday afternoon slot, so maybe most people will be out drinking.

While I'm sorting my life out, I ought to say not to panic if I don't post much between now and next Wednesday. I may post and I may not - it all depends on how busy things are. Right now, they look more than a little busy. Hence the need to finish things rather than simply contemplate deadlines. Once more unto the breach!