Strange Horizons just picked up reprint rights to Tall Jorinda, a mythical story about a giant girl, set in my home stomping ground of the Carolina mountains. The naturalist William Bartram makes a cameo appearance, though he doesn't give his name, and I don't think many people have ever noticed.
Long ago I won the New Writers Award from Capitol: The Magazine of New York’s Capitol Region with Tall Jorinda. And was feted with a nice fat check that I needed and a reading at The Shaker Museum in Old Chatham and a lovely party--all hosted by editor-in-chief/publisher Dardis McNamee.
It was a sultry-hot July at the museum, and I was nine months pregnant. The first of three children was born not so many days after...
In all, we lived for four years in our tiny one-bedroom basement apartment. By the time we left, the bedroom contained a nightstand, a double bed, a crib, and a bassinet. At night, I liked waking and hearing the light breathing of babies, though we had to crawl down to the southwest corner of the bed to get out of the room.
Good times...
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
1 comment:
Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.
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Gorgeous, show-stopper god-babies, lords of Washington Park.
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