Busy-ness and Rest
Hello friends!
As I write this, the ground is still damp with several days' worth of much-needed rain, the sun is shining, and the air is cool and fresh. I feel as though I ought to be weeding, or pulling up spent plants, or doing any number of things in the garden that has, once again, completely gotten away from me. But it's been an extremely busy couple of months, and I'm giving myself permission to rest a bit.
At the beginning of September, I attended my very first WorldCon, in Chicago! This involved getting on an airplane for the first time since November 2019, something I can't say I enjoyed, but it was worth it. WorldCon was incredible: overwhelming in the best possible way. I taught a movement workshop for writers--essentially chair yoga--and I talked about Cats in SFF alongside fellow panelist Peter S. Beagle(!!!) I practiced T'ai Chi with guest of honor Steven Barnes. I sang karaoke for the first time in my life (Def Leppard's "Photograph" and no I don't regret it.) I attended the Hugo Awards ceremony, for which I wore an octopus dress and octopus earrings; a friend coiled my hair in braids and wove in silver ribbons, and I have never felt fancier. The entire event reminded me how many extremely talented people are working in science fiction, fantasy, and horror right now. I'm honored to know some of them, and I remain starstruck by all of them.
While I was in Chicago, two of my stories were published! The first, "Between the Lines," came out in Factor Four Magazine. It's a flash piece about depression that offers no solutions--only, perhaps, a glimmer of light leading out of the darkness.
The second, "The Weight of It All," was published in Fantasy Magazine--a dream publication for me. I'm so proud of this story, which really delves into my experience living with an eating disorder. In a lot of ways, this story can be read as a companion piece to my 2019 story "Getaway." I wrote "Getaway" soon after receiving my eating disorder diagnosis; in fact, it was the process of writing "Getaway" that made me truly accept the fact that I was ill. It's unflinching, and grim, and it's definitely the story I needed to write at the time. "The Weight of It All" is also unflinching...but it ends with some hope. This was so important to me--not because I think stories have to have happy endings, but because that's where I am right now. Not cured--I don't know that I'll ever be cured--but healthier, and hopeful.
It occurs to me that hope--small, and measured, but still there--is what ties together both of the stories I published this month. And as summer draws to a close, and winter peeks its head over the horizon, I'm wishing you hope as well. If either story speaks to you in any way, I'd love to hear about it.
I leave you with a photo I took over the summer in Maine. I was walking during low tide with my daughter, searching for shells and smooth dark rocks to pluck from the sand. Take a moment to imagine the sound of the waves tumbling in and out. Imagine the water bathing your feet, the sand gripping your shoes, the salt wind in your lungs. Exhale.
Be well,
Jen