slipstream life

I'm a day late and a dollar short as usual, but a longtime reader of the blog, who I call Sie by short, offered to interview me over at HIS BLOG. Go read. Learn. Absorb.

Kidding! But do go read if you're interested in my thoughts as an editor.

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I should tag all my posts here, now that I've decided to stay awhile.  And do some URL redirecting, etc. If anyone wants to volunteer to tag posts...sheeit, I'd be happy to let 'em.  No? Guess I'd better start at the beginning, then. I'd also best get drunk so the tags can be amusing, albeit misspelled...

I was surprised to walk into my class the other night and see my blog up on someone's laptop.  "You googled me," I said.

I know I get googled sometimes, well, more than sometimes (since I'm an editor, people look me up). I get mentioned around , too, cuz I track that stuff. I still can't get used to it. I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

I occassionally realize anew, though I'm far from famous, I am known in certain circles. One of the circles is here, in my own neighborhood. A lot of folks know I write, a lot of folks know what I write. People know my house and that I live here. (I have one of those houses that people want. It's a tract house, but people wanted it before I lived here--like me--and people still want it. It has a good soul, my house.)  People know our cars. People talk, I guess. 

But honestly, I'm better known in writing circles, face and online, I think. I mean, when I think about my day, corresponding with writers all over the world, reading my slush pile (a lot of it is directed to me personally cuz my name is first on the editors' list), planning to attend conferences, preparing for classes, writing crazy stuff like archwardens  and their nutty gay lovers, plotting my next sex, um, erotica book, and then dropping everything and running to the pool with kiddos and getting dressed up super much one night for a party and then putting on buffalo plaid to watch Cage the Elephant the next...

No wonder I feel so disjointed sometimes.  There's a funny description of slipstream that refers to disconnects. I never quite got it until now. I have a slipstream life.

And a slip-n-slide in the backyard.