As I sit writing this, on the cusp of Labor Day weekend here in the U.S, I am considering transitions and the ways they affect our outlooks on life. Labor Day traditionally marks the end of summer, even if the calendar claims we have a few more weeks. Kids head back to school, businesses gear up for the final quarter. It’s a landmark, a pivot point, from beaches, vacations, and barbeques to textbooks and the anticipation of wool sweaters and all things pumpkin spice.
It also signals time speeding up, or at least that’s how it feels as I’ve gotten older. Somehow those last four months go faster every year. I know, once we hit Labor Day weekend, it’s a blink or two before the holidays are on top of us. And so I feel the need to prepare. I make to-do lists for the long weekend—everything I want to wrap up from the summer before the fall list shifts into focus.
This year, a state-wide heatwave seems intent on turning my plans upside down. A lot of what I intended to accomplish is far too physically active to tackle in triple-digit temperatures. Rather than risk heat stroke, I am putting off that almost-fall cleaning, pushing back my return to a daily morning walk, and diving right into my “back-to-school” projects.
Anyone else have the urge to buy school supplies this time of year? For yourself—not for your kids. I blame years of indoctrination, but come September I need to stock up on new notebooks and pens, and I start eyeing those books that feel a little too serious or meaty to read on a steamy summer afternoon. But I also delve into projects that align with education, and this year I have two in particular that have been lingering on my to-do list; things I started and then put down when more pressing tasks got in the way. I’m excited to pick them back up and make some progress. More details in future issues, when I will—I hope—have fun things to share.
Back-to-school translates to back-to-work, as well, though of course for most of us work takes place year round. But fall feels like the time for taking on new challenges, as well as a closing window on completing the goals you’ve set for the year. As the hot weather wanes, energy surges. Crisp air and colder temperatures call for movement, activity to keep yourself warm. So many of our current routines stem from schedules set during an age when we were guided almost entirely by the seasons—crop cycles, ability to hunt, our adaptability to the weather. It amazes me how many things people do with no conscious awareness of why, or how they came to be.
Beyond the obvious—dressing for seasons, observing holidays or season-based events—how much do you feel the seasons or natural cycles in general impact the way you live your life? Are there things you consciously start or put aside at different times of year? Do you feel more energized according to the calendar? What are you transitioning to right now?
One of my last gasps of summer this year marked another transition: a return to in-person writers’ conferences. Early in August, I flew off to Utah for a few days to serve on faculty for Futurescapes—appropriate since Futurescapes in February of 2020 was my last in-person event before the pandemic sent us into lockdown. It was wonderful to have the chance to meet with writers in person again, to chat with colleagues face-to-face, and to get out from behind my desk, particularly in such beautiful surroundings.
Unlike previous workshops, this was kept small in an effort to ease back in and also enable pivoting as necessary to make it safe for everyone attending. In deference to rising Covid numbers in the area, sit-down meals shifted to grab-and-go bags, and a good number of the workshop groups met outdoors on the deck at the Snowbird Resort rather than cramming everyone into a single meeting room. The attendees were cooperative and understanding of the efforts to keep everyone healthy, and it felt like a success all around.
Which brings me to another transition I am sensing this year. It’s the third fall since the start of the pandemic, and while last year there was a move to take things back to “normal,” I think this is the year when pandemic life at this level has simply become normal. Most of the world has reopened. Some people still take precautions when in public, masking for their own health or to protect others. Others shield more consistently because of pre-existing conditions or vulnerabilities. Geography and political leanings continue to play a role in how people behave. Talk of the latest round of vaccines or strains of the virus have shifted from headline or breaking news to part of the accepted news cycle.
And writers have finally moved along, too. In a week where most conversation revolved around speculative fiction, I heard almost nothing with a pandemic-based storyline.
On the business side of things, I have more transitions coming. With summer waning, I hope to ramp this newsletter up to its intended twice-monthly frequency. I also plan to circle back to my website, which continues to just sit there sadly, and give it a bit of a redesign and facelift.
In terms of submissions, I continue to be closed to queries (much to the dismay of many, I know), but I cannot justify reopening to what is generally an instant deluge while I’m still so far behind with a backlog of material. I beg continued patience from all involved, and add that I understand if you take yourselves off to other agents in the meantime. We can all only do our best. But I have set aside some time for queries/submitted material over this holiday weekend. Onward.
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A few more links to share:
17 upcoming sci-fi and fantasy books to look forward to in 2022 - A great lineup of fall reads coming soon.
100 must-read classics, as chosen by our readers - Penguin’s rundown of the best of the classics to check out.
The Ghost of Workshops Past: How Communism, Conservatism, and the Cold War Still Mold Our Paths Into SFF Writing - An interesting history of how we workshop fiction and the ways in which we might look at the process differently.
The PRH Trial Has Revealed a Barely Hidden Scorn for Independent Publishers - An excellent analysis of how big publishing talks about the vast majority of the players in the industry.
The Sandman creator Neil Gaiman on the future of the show: Happy Sad Confused - For any of you obsesssed with the Netflix series, the comics, or Gaiman in general, a nice, long interview.
Writing a Cover Letter for a Job in the Publishing Industry - Wonderful tips for anyone looking to get a publishing-related position.
How Are Annotated Editions of Books Made? - A fun inside-look at how these special editions come to be.
Currently in my teacup:
It’s 99 degrees; I’m downing ice water by the bucketful.
Currently on my nightstand:
Babel by R.F. Kuang
That’s all for now. Thank you so much for reading. Please do comment on anything that strikes your fancy. I love hearing what you think, what you’re reading, and how you’re all doing. Until next time.🥰
The heat in New England this summer was brutal. Cape Cod remained hot at night, which is highly unusual. In the afternoons, we sought shelter at the public library, which offers AC. All of Massachusetts is in a drought now. The heat wave lasted a full week at least. Nighttime temperatures didn’t provide much of a break. Then came two days with drizzle and another weeklong heat wave. And, the Cape was 10 degrees cooler than Boston (!) Perhaps that’s why the cool spell we are experiencing feels so welcome. As I was walking along this morning, it occurred to me that September means winter is imminent. Since we were in grin-and-bear-it mode for August, fall will feel incredibly welcome. Over the past few days, I noticed the angle of the sun has changed and the change seems to speed up as the days pass. The zinnias that gave me so much pleasure no longer benefit from eight hours of sunshine. In my house, we’ll transition to hearty soup for supper. Kale or pea or bean with chard. I’ll be trying that one soon.
Last night I listened to Open Source on NPR. The list of classic books reminded me. The host Christopher Lyden was discussing Infinite Jest, a novel I have not yet read but will and he interviewed several Wallace specialists. I did not know that Infinite Jest is set in Boston, where Wallace lived. They did a segment on visiting the various places described in the novel.
This evening I was reading the latest New Yorker and discovered a two-page review (!) on Jonathan Escoffery's debut short story collection entitled If I Survive You. I know Jonathan from GrubStreet. Took a course with him last fall. He's a lovely person and his book has received incredible praise. I'm going to his first reading on Tuesday night. I'm excited to be getting an autographed copy.
The last book I read was also short stories. The Distortions by Christopher Linforth. I enjoyed his writing style. Stories of alienation after the war in Yugoslavia, so not an easy topic, but Linforth wrote with great familiarity, having lived in Zagreb. The stories were surprisingly varied.
I feel like I've been transitioning to *something* for several years. It's an odd by-product of living overseas for so long. Inhabiting a place was always an assignment. Temporary. Though we’re done with our expat existence and we've been in our current home/town/state for nearly four years, in an odd way I still feel as if I'm passing through. Maybe I’m waiting to transition into someone who stays?