The internet is a hugely positive thing in my life. I can find information on anything -- ANYTHING -- any time. I can see up to the second pictures of my nieces and nephews, or pictures drawn by them, or things they thought were neat. John and I used the internet to stay in touch while we lived apart. All of our "big" discussions were typed. My kids far away can find me on messenger -- and so can the one sitting in the same room. I go first to the internet to find out things like news, weather (in case I can't see the window, I guess), and entertainment. It's a good thing.

It is also really distracting lately. I am going to make a few changes. In the work day (self-defined), I am going to leave yahoo messenger logged out. (This is partly to stop the constant email notifications.) I am going to only respond to offspring (including step and in-law) aim messages. Any others I will respond to after hours. Whatever after hours means.

If I choose to do something that could be considered time-wasting, that's one thing. I choose to do so. It's the stuff that comes in interruptingly that I have to cut down on. At least that is my theory!

(A recent article by Cory Doctorow about interruptive media helped shape some of my thinking on this... decision.)

Every week of Odyssey, there was a special guest writer or editor. Our year was lucky enough to get George R.R. Martin as the weeklong guest, and apparently there were MANY applications for our year just because George would be there. He was very funny and I learned a lot from him.

But one of my own heroes was there another week, an editor of a very successful genre magazine. I really really like his work. A lot. Everyone was to have one piece of writing critiqued by one of the guests, and I signed up for this editor and put my story in the envelope to be mailed to him prior to his visit.

Well. He loved it. It is not a genre story. It's still in my pile of stories to try to place, actually. He said something along the lines of "I would not change a thing in this story; send it out." He told me to come to such-and-such a conference and he would introduce me to some of the other editors. I actually found myself wondering in the moment if this was what he told all the kids. But no, several people told me later that he had talked about my work to them when I wasn't even around! One of my heroes. I still find it hard to believe.

So. Did I go to the conference? Have I followed up at ALL?

No. I think I missed that chance. You know, it was such a turbulent time. It was only a few months before separation and divorce. Em was beginning to get sick, although we still didn't realize what the signs meant. I was picking up pieces of life everywhere.

I hope I get another chance with this editor, with the editors he would have introduced me to. My writing hasn't gone to hell in the intervening years, I don't think. I can't use turbulence as an excuse forever, although it's a pretty good REASON. But I can't keep missing these chances, I can't, I can't, I can't. Missing isn't even the right word. I can't keep throwing chances away.