Finally!

Praise Jesus and pass the pork chops--the neighbors are finally moving out.  Between domestic fights, a constantly yapping little shit of a Jack Russell terrier, an occasional crying baby, and Sunday afternoon bad "romantic" music interludes that are so loud we can hear every note and every word of every commercial.  Also, she smokes like a cheap chimney.

The flat has been listed as available for a month or two now, and when I looked it up online, it's free from the 30th of March.  It sat empty for close to two months after it was showing as being let, so we were hoping they would move out early as well.  Not so much, but they seem to have been moving out over the course of the week, with a ton of stuff going yesterday, including the bed (looked like the cheapest Ikea frame they have).  She was wearing her usual neon pink Doc Marten boots, but this time with some lovey shiny spandex leggings, complete with neon splotches of color.  For all her sins, she more or less has the body to pull off the leggings, but the way the leggings were made, the splotches ended abruptly at the seams, looking extra tacky.

But digressing from my nasty comments about her fashion, today appears to be cleaning day.  He's over today, the windows are wide open, the microwave is outside, and the grill pan is on the porch, drying in the sun.  Hopefully this means they'll be gone by Saturday.  With Mom and Dad here for a week starting then, it's bad enough to contend with the physiotherapist stamping and yammering away upstairs, but the yapping dog would be too much--lord knows it is/was for Adam and I.

So yes, the neighbors appear to be leaving.  Hopefully the place will sit empty for months again, and when new people move in, hopefully they'll be better than the exiting occupants.

LinkedTwitMyFace+

I seem to have created a twitter account.  Mostly because I have to buy a bunch of plane tickets this year (well, three, and for only two trips, unless someone dies, so no one die because I don't want to pay even more money to the airlines this year), and airlines post deals to their twitter and facebook pages.  I won't join facebook for love, money, or to save my soul, since I believe it is the very definition of hell.*

I do not have a LinkedIn account, nor do I have a MySpace page, though I do have a Google+ account, which I mostly use to play games (yeah, it turns out I am that person, except I don't publicly post/harass others for things in game) and follow homebrew people.  And Wil Wheaton and Jeri Ryan.  Wil Wheaton started the homebrew circle.

I'm debating how much to post to twitter.  I've always like the concept of twitter--I think it's fast and easy and I like the idea of having to keep to a character limit.  Still, I'd rather post here for the most part.  No character limits so I can blather away, and more over, a few people read me here.  Very few, perhaps, but hey.  But if for some reason you feel an urge to follow me on twitter, I'm @KatieWeidmann (creative, no?), and the non-twitter account holding people can see what I have to say (which is one post and not interesting) at https://twitter.com/#!/KatieWeidmann.

*Someone who came over to a party we hosted decided to use my laptop to hop on her account and didn't log out.  Ignoring the fact that I didn't like Henry being violated in such a way, nor do I think it's cool/appropriate/fun to stare at facebook when there are actual people around you, I used her account last night to look up some people and discover that facebook has gotten even more horrible with this new timeline thing.  I also thought about doing evil things to/with her account, but Adam told me not to be mean.  But she started it when she left fingerprints all over my screen!

Titanium Solstice: 28,613 Words

I think submitting a manuscript and synopsis to a publisher is quite possibly the scariest thing I've done in my life.  Given that I'm terrified of, well, everything, that's saying something.  I've packed up and moved halfway around the world--twice--applied to and attended various university programs, and faced down scorpions, black widows, and spiders so huge that I'd rather face the scorpions and black widows.

But I've never before submitted something I've written to a publisher.  I am actually published, but it's by a peer-reviewed journal.  That's not to say that the bar is lower, but it is different, and usually less competitive.  Everyone wants to write fiction, not so many people want to write about Deluzian philosophy (including me).

As for the title, I'm certainly amenable to changing it should the publisher select my story but have reservations about the title.  It's gone through many incarnations, the most recent being Draft 4 (it was easier to keep track of the versions that way, since the title was changing between drafts).  Suggestions from the peanut gallery had included Solstice Under Steel (which went away when the material of the dome changed from steel to titanium), When Harry Met Solstice, Gone with the Solstice (which became a working title),  A Solstice and a Gentlemen, Whitsuntide Wankers (that would be Dad's favorite, and it has no bearing on the story itself), Solstice Surprise, Winter Wonderland?, Domed Solstice, and probably a variety of other suggestions.  Needless to say, titles are not my strong point, and I'm always open to suggestions.  It is, however, a bit late for this submission.

My fingers are crossed.  While I really don't expect to be selected, I can't deny that I'm hoping to be surprised.  At the very least, I'm hoping for some feedback.  I'm also hoping that I didn't screw up any part of the submission process.  I had the bright idea--yesterday--to read the details of the submission process, which meant yesterday and today consisted of throwing together a query letter and a synopsis.  Then formatting had to be done, and it's really hard to format RTF, perhaps because the point of RTF is that there is minimal formatting so it can cross-platform.

Still, I have accomplished one of my goals with my writing.  I have submitted my work to a publisher for consideration.  The next goal?  Finish my damn novel, which got sidetracked by this process.

2012 Reading List: February

My excuse is my short story.  And a conference.  Both of which sucked up loads of time.  When I surface from round upon round of editing (thank for the super-fast feedback, Mom!), I will gush about the completely amazing conference I went to for Girl Museum and how wonderful it was to be on the fringes of academia once again.  And to meet 3 of the other Girl Museum interns.

FEBRUARY

8.  Blue Moon, by Laurell K. Hamilton (Anita Blake #8)

7.  *Night Train to Memphis, by Elizabeth Peters (Vicky Bliss #5)

6.  *Trojan Gold, by Elizabeth Peters (Vicky Bliss #4)

5.  Burnt Offerings, by Laurell K. Hamilton (Anita Blake #7)

JANUARY

4.  The Crimson Petal and the White, by Michel Faber

3.  Queen Victoria: Demon Hunter, by A. E. Moorat (pen name of Andrew Holmes, it appears)

2.  *A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett

1.  Heat Rises, by "Richard Castle" (Nikki Heat Series #3) (Best guess at ghostwriter: Tom Straw)