Carrie Fisher is gone.

And yes, we’ve lost so many good and genius people this year.  But we have so many more to lose.  I don’t even want to whisper their names, in case I really might draw the wrong attention to them.  We don’t know how bad it can be, how bad it’s going to be.

Rather than focus on the loss, I’m trying to focus on how lucky we are to have had any of these people at all.  To have their work — which will be with us always — and their examples and and their inspirations.

Again, I’m reflecting on how odd it is to grieve for someone I never met.  It seems a bit presumptuous, especially next to how much her family, friends, and people she worked with must be hurting.  But Carrie Fisher has been a presence and an inspiration through my whole life.  And I’ll miss that.

Meanwhile, I’ll be celebrating her life by reading her books.



Happy Holidays

December 23, 2016

Behold, this year’s tree and all its bounty:


Have a safe and peaceful holiday season, everyone.


it’s a Monday…

December 5, 2016

December is not off to a real good start.  The wretched cold became even more wretched, probably because I was existing in a state of complete denial and thinking I could just power through it.  Yeah, that didn’t work.  In the meantime, I’ve barely started on holiday prep and I’m falling behind on everything I want to get done and. . .

Never mind.  I should probably go back to bed.  Ugh.


Well. That happened.

November 9, 2016


I have friends all over the world and the first thing I’d like to say is: I’m sorry. I thought America was better than this, I thought we stood for tolerance and equality and hope. And then a big chunk of voters chose hate, bigotry, and ignorance. I’m trying to think if there was something I could have done, maybe I should have spoken out more, done more, something. I don’t know. I’m sorry.

Second, I’m not leaving. I’m staying to fight and hold the line for the values we used to stand for, for science-based policy and diplomacy and women’s rights, and to protect my LBGTQ friends who are now afraid their marriages and civil rights will be taken away from them, my immigrant friends, the people of color in my life who are afraid for their lives. Black Lives Matter, and we have to keep shouting that because apparently everyone who voted for the candidate endorsed by the KKK doesn’t actually believe that.

I’m not up for saying much more than that right now, but I want to say that: I’m staying and fighting. For tolerance, equality, fairness, justice, and hope.


June 13, 2016

I have no words.

I have too many words.

The pictures and profiles of victims are starting to appear on Facebook and other social media, and it’s too much.  It’s always been too much.

The Onion always has something to say.  This piece is from two years ago, and still too relevant to be funny.  (Although it looks like they added a new one today.)  When I went to search for this I typed “Onion” into google, and “onion mass shooting” was the third option to come up on auto search.  A lot of people looking for this, I guess.


it continues

January 20, 2016

I had another post planned for today but I’m going to save it until next week because word has come down the internet that my current editor, David Hartwell, is in critical condition, on life support, and not likely to recover.

I remember riding in a cab with him in NYC, from the Javits Center to I don’t know where during BEA, and he started telling stories.  He has lots and lots of stories.  About the old guard and the book world in the 70’s and so on, and I thought, This guy knows where all the bodies are buried.  He’s one of only a handful of people in the field who ever met Alice Sheldon/James Tiptree Jr. in person.  He worked as an editor in one capacity or another for 40+ years, and the wealth of knowledge and institutional memory he has is incalculable.

So I’m not really in mourning for myself, but for the whole field, which is losing part of its heart.

My deepest sympathies to his family during this hard time.

a long week of r.i.p.’s

January 15, 2016

I’ve never dealt with death very well.  I’ve managed to stay mostly insulated from it — I didn’t lose a grandparent until I was 28, for example.  So when it hits. . .it hits.

Celebrity death — the death of people I don’t know, have never met, and yet whose work I care about — seems to distill and concentrate the issue for me.  Maybe I shouldn’t grieve this much for people I don’t know.  But their work.  Their work is so tangible, and the thought that there won’t be any more, and that I will be reminded of this gutted feeling every time I encounter their work — even as I’m so deeply, massively grateful that their work exists — just flattens me.

David Bowie and Alan Rickman in the same week seems just. . .wrong.  So, so wrong.

What’s more, and for the first time, I can see the time when all my favorite creative artists and makers are gone, and I don’t know any of the new young faces coming up, and I am past.  Out of the world.  And thank God for art.  Just. . .art.  We would all be walking dead people without art.

Art lasts.  All these people last.  Death isn’t real.  Death is just a thing that happens but art stays.