My star seems to be in ascension. A couple days ago I got a super cool review on NPR. As if that wasn’t cool enough, superhero librarian Nancy Pearl is the one doing the reviewing and recommending.
If you don’t know who Nancy Pearl is, you should. Any you know that any librarian with her own action figure is a force to be reckoned with…
If that weren’t enough, I also recently got wind of a review in Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine. Michelle West wrote such a flattering, descriptive, spoiler free review discussion of the book that I realize I will probably never have much luck being a reviewer myself. I don’t think I have the knack.
Anyway, my point is that things were looking pretty rosy moving into today. Two embarrassingly good reviews, my student’s tests were graded, and my amazon rank was ridiculously high (#240). I was half convinced that the local woodland creatures were going to wake me up, sing me a song, and help me get dressed for school — Cinderella style.
Because they didn’t show, I had to find my own socks and consequently I was running a little late. So I drove onto campus and found a spot right in front of the building. It even had 20 free minutes on the meter. Better and better.
Then I end up having a disagreement with the local photocopier. I want to make copies of the grading rubric for my class. The machine wants to take a big old shit on my day.
Ultimately the machine wins. It even manages the trifecta by denying me my copies, devouring the one and only copy of the rubric, and making me five minutes late to my own class.
Everything went downhill from there. The class was a trainwreck. Because dealing with the photocopier took all of my class prep time, I looked disorganized and clueless. I wrote all over the dry-erase board with a big bright red non-dry erase marker. (Not my fault, someone left it there.) I looked like an idiot several times and some of the students actually were talking to each other and laughing at me.
Lastly, toward the end of the class I said something in response to a student’s comment that was meant to be a general statement for the class, but I think was interpreted as me being bitchy at that student. *sigh* I don’t know.
It’s strange how quickly your day can turn to shit. In some ways it’s even worse because everything else was really good before that. If you spend the day picking up dogshit it’s not going to be a great time, but at least you know what you’re in for. You’re braced for it. It’s different if you’re just having a picnic and someone hits you in the face with a turd.
And with that lovely image, I will leave you. Hope your day is going better than mine.
Best,
pat
P.S. 204. That helps a bit.
Butterflies….
So in half an hour or so I’m going to be getting into my car and driving up to Minneapolis for the Fantasy Matters convention I mentioned a while back.
I was pretty sure that by now, I’d be numb to the pre convention jitters. Over the years I’ve done a lot of public speaking in a lot of different venues. I’ve been a teacher for years, of course, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Teaching is a cakewalk compared to some of the other gigs I’ve had.
Hell, about a year ago I was the commencement speaker at the biggest high school in the state. That was scary. Going to another convention shouldn’t be making me jittery. Improv comedy. That’s hard. Preaching a sermon, singing in front of judges, live radio interviews.
All of those are way more…. anxiousnessing than talking on a panel at a convention….
Shit, it’s starting already. I’m losing all my words… what’s the word for when something makes you nervous? Is there such a word? There has to be….
Hell, by noon tomorrow I’ll be speaking like a… Labrador? What does that even mean? Fuck. Now my knack for clever analogies has crapped-out as well. Soon I’ll be reduced to grunts, rude gestures, and scratching crude sketches in the dirt with a stick….
The reason for my anxiety is this. Neil Gaiman is going to be at this convention. I’m finally going to meet him.
Now over the last year or so, I’ve met a lot of important people. Big people. Agents. Editors. Movers. Shakers. Authors that I’ve read for years. Luckily, it’s been a slow progression so that I was never especially overwhelmed at any point.
A couple weeks before my book came out I had dinner with Tad Williams when he was in the area doing a signing. And the strange thing is, I was cool with it. He was just a guy. I should have been a little freaked-out, but I wasn’t.
But Gaiman. His writing is beyond the pale. Dude is mythic and I am seriously nervous. I’m worried that when I meet him I’m going to try to be witty and I’ll just spaz out instead. It’ll be like a Muppet having a seizure. A Muppet with bad language skills.
I’m guessing it would pretty much be like Grover on methamphetamine. With tourettes.
Somewhere between this:
And this:
Oh Deviantart… is there anything you don’t have an illustration for?
Personal to Mr. Gaiman: If you read this, please do not call the police. I won’t visit spazzy Muppet death upon you. Neither will I scalp you and wear your hair like a little hat. You have my word as a fellow fantasy author. I promise. Pinky swear.
Okay, time to get on the road. Got a long drive ahead of me tonight.
Later all….
pat