A long NYT's article on James Patterson. There's a lot of good stuff in there, including publishing history, attitude, and savvy.
Ann VanderMeer gets promoted to editor in chief of Weird Tales. As well as naming Mary Robinette Kowal being named art director. Paula Guran makes up the hat trick by becoming the new nonfiction editor (as Stephen Segal moves to acquisitions editor for Quirk Books and senior contributing editor of Weird Tales). It's always nice to see good things happen to people. Although there's no word if I'll continue to receive the nicest rejection letters from Ann or someone new.
And now the update. I feel like I've been run over. Last night I saw the orthopedic doctor and we went through a lot. The MRI show the disks between C5-7 bulging, touching the nerve. His stress tests show some weakening in the forearm, which could be one or two of the nerves. So I get to go and get hooked up like a frog leg in anatomy class to see if either of them is showing permanent damage (weakness is the first sign). The test is called an EMG (electromyography) I've had this done before and didn't enjoy the experience. We're on a new pack of methyl-prednisone (took six last night, on course for day 2 - hint, if you have to take it, be ready to wash pills down quickly, if not the aftertaste will distract you from the pain all by itself). And I have instructions to get going with traction on the neck. And then I get to go back and learn my fate. I'm not so digging the "permanent damage" part of this. I asked if the bulging was reversible and the doctor hemmed and hawed, but ended up saying that he expects it to. And that I can't re-injure the site. Oh joy.
Last night, after a long day (didn't get home until after eight), I was somewhat revved. Today all the batteries are drained and I'm having a problem enjoying not being in pain every few seconds. Heck, I even sneezed this morning without saying "ouch" right after. And tonight is appropriations, which means probably a long meeting which will hear the term "budget cut" said repeatedly typically after the words "drastic" or "deep."
I'm still taking the over the counter pain meds, and still suffering from fuzzy thinking they bring. This morning I forgot my lunch, again. And I know I should be working on several things (writing and village business), but just can't hold it together long enough to gather my thoughts.
So it'll be around the 8th if I learn the answer to, "But will I still be able to play the violin?" Which I should have asked last night, but it also slipped out through the fogginess in my brain as I attempted to remember everything the doctor said.
On the plus side, with the doctor's office receptionist I got to plug some of my friends books. She saw me reading Zoe's Tale and asked after it. I then learned that her husband likes military fiction (of all stripes) so I pushed Scalzi with a side order of Buckell on her. When I left she told me she was able to score a second hand copy of Ghost Brigades for a good price.