April is the cruelest month.

Yeah, it's the tax thing. But it's also raining deadlines around here, and the weather is one kind of torture or another, every day. This month saw my apartment underwater again, though not as badly as last time. It's weird to think that a yearly wash of cold rainwater is what's keeping my rent affordable, but this is a weird housing market. 

And speaking of weird, I published a story-shaped thing in Memoir Mixtapes this month. It's a fun publication! They ask people to write about specific songs, taking in poems and memoirs and embarrassing tales from adolescence. Each issue includes a mixtape, so that you can listen to the track the author is focused on while you read it. I wrote mine about Sandstorm by Darude. 

"A sandstorm is nothing but grit in your teeth. It costs you the horizon and the whole sky. It steals your vision and your perspective. It’s something you can’t see coming until it consumes you. But most of all, it’s a shitty techno song."

This month's short fiction review turned out to feature a hell of a lot more nonfiction than usual. What can I say? It's a cruel month, and it's only getting crueler. Ever time I swear I am done with the news cycle, it makes sure that I know it is not done with me. I hope next month features more fairies and dragons, I really do. 


This month in long fiction brought me A Study in Scarlet Women by Sherry Thomas: a wonderful Lady Sherlock story, where the world's greatest detective is a badass fat chick who sleeps with whomever she wants (you can see why I enjoyed this, yes?) This was recommended to me by a friend with good taste, and I was unsurprised to love it. I think loads of other folks would, too. It's a rich, well-loved world that's easy to fall into, but it's wonderful to find someone new there once you land. 

So, I lost the Philip K. Dick award. That's me up top, posing in front of my Etta poster. It was easier to lose than I expected it would be. I lost to Carrie Vaughn, who writes wonderful books. I am still incredibly proud to have been nominated for multiple awards for my first two books. I expected to be dejected and upset afterward. I'm not a bad sport and I strive to not be a bad loser, but I really did want this. I have been pleasantly surprised as I've gotten older how much easier it is to feel genuinely happy for someone else, and how jealousy fades as you come to like and understand yourself better. That feels like winning, every day. 

In ten days, I'll be at Ravencon in Virginia. I'm taking part in a live reading of the Eye of Argon; a time-honored tradition of my people. I'm also appearing at the Bay Area Book Festival, talking about the legacy of the late great Ursula K. LeGuin. Join me if you can. If not there, I'll be at Wiscon and Worldcon, too. 

I guess April isn't all that cruel. I just know that May will be so much better. 

Taking big bites out of the calendar, 

Meg