A Decade Ago...
Sunday, August 22nd, 2004 03:42 pmNicked from
scarlettina
What were you up to 10 years ago today? What was your life like?
August 22, 1994
Hmmm.
We'd been living in this house for two years and one month. Resident cats were Nick der Fluffer, Kodiak Felicia Browne, Hypatia Lee, and Max! Hamish.
I was working half-time as Office Manager/Woman of All Work for a private environmental company, freelancing as a reporter/photographer for The Town Line, and as assistant sysop for The Maine Meeting Place, a state-wide BBS for the disabled out of Sanford, Maine.
The first Jenn Pierce mystery was out on submission; Local Custom had just been rejected by Bantam Spectra, and The Tomorrow Log by DAW.
It had been six years since I'd sold a piece of fiction, and seven years since I'd attended a science fiction convention. I'd let my subscriptions to Locus and to SFC lapse, and I had closed contact with almost all of my writer- and fan-friends, with the exception of
hecateshound and Lawrence Watt-Evans.
kinzel was running Circular Logic Bulletin Board out of his office, which was connected to Fidonet and other networks-not-the-internet. From those sources we were begining to hear from people who had read the first three Liaden books, back in '88 and '89, and who were starting to ask after sequels to Carpe Diem.
A mixed time, I suppose, with more gray than black-or-white days.
What were you up to 10 years ago today? What was your life like?
August 22, 1994
Hmmm.
We'd been living in this house for two years and one month. Resident cats were Nick der Fluffer, Kodiak Felicia Browne, Hypatia Lee, and Max! Hamish.
I was working half-time as Office Manager/Woman of All Work for a private environmental company, freelancing as a reporter/photographer for The Town Line, and as assistant sysop for The Maine Meeting Place, a state-wide BBS for the disabled out of Sanford, Maine.
The first Jenn Pierce mystery was out on submission; Local Custom had just been rejected by Bantam Spectra, and The Tomorrow Log by DAW.
It had been six years since I'd sold a piece of fiction, and seven years since I'd attended a science fiction convention. I'd let my subscriptions to Locus and to SFC lapse, and I had closed contact with almost all of my writer- and fan-friends, with the exception of
A mixed time, I suppose, with more gray than black-or-white days.