The first time I dyed it, I was about to head off to my first Wiscon ““ a large feminist science fiction convention held yearly in Madison, Wisconsin. As I’ve found the case at sf conventions since then, I wasn’t the only person there with an odd hair color; I glimpsed rainbows of pink, blue, and green. And I realized it was becoming. Complete strangers would lean over and whisper, “I like your hair,” including two flight attendants on the way home.
After the con the color faded, softer and softer, until finally, when I went to get a haircut, the hairdresser was cutting away dusty rose tips. I looked in the mirror and saw a middle-aged woman with a short, practical cut.
I bought a new kit on the way home and re-pinked my hair that afternoon.
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Sold “Whose Face This Is, I Do Not Know” to Clarkesworld. That’ll be the fourth time I’ve had a story in there, the others being The Mermaids Singing Each to Each, The Worm Within, and I’ll Gnaw Your Bones, the Manticore Said. I’m pleased by this sale, particularly since they do a lovely collection of each year’s stories.
Had a FABULOUS time at Norwescon. My fellow panelists were great, and it was terrific seeing everyone, including (but not restricted to): Alma Alexander, Michael Alexander and his lovely wife Sheila, K.C. Ball, Nathan Crowder, Janet Freeman Davis, Caren Gussoff, Mary Robinette Kowal, Nancy Kress, Nick Mamatas, Mary Rosenblum, Michael Swanwick, Stephanie Weippart, whose surname I think I have misspelled, and Duane Wilkins. Particularly loved the Beneath Ceaseless Skies reading, which featured so much very good stuff that it was alarming.
Pippa’s Smiles, which I read the beginning to at the BCS reading, is now up on Daily Science Fiction.
I participated in the Locus Roundtable discussion of awards, and the first part of that is up on Locus.
Next up on my con agenda is Penguicon!
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"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."
(science fiction, short story) Because mermaids lay eggs, hundreds at a time, at least that kind did. And the natural-born ones, they didn’t have human minds guiding them. They were like sharks—they ate, they killed, they ate. Most of the original human mermaids had gotten out when they found out that the seas were full of chemicals, or that instead of whale songs down there, they heard submarine sonar and boat signals. When the last few found out that they were spawning whether they liked it or not, they got out too. Supposedly one or two stayed, and now they live in the sea with their children, twice as mean as any of them.
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