So, Villa Diodati turned five this year, and we had our tenth workshop in Southern England, courtesy of Stephen Gaskell. Wow. It doesn’t certainly feel like five years, but it’s been an awesome set of meeting points–like Ruth said, in many ways we’ve become each other’s support network and writerly family.

Participants this time were John Olsen, Sylvia Spruck Wigley, Ruth Nestvold, Nancy Fulda, Stephen Gaskell and Floris M Kleijne.

As usual, I’d taken an early train, though I hadn’t realised that I’d have to get up at 5:00am in order to catch it (prompting the new “zombie shuffle” twitter status–it turned out Steve and a couple other people had also got an early start). I arrived very early in Brighton, which means Steve and I had a chance to catch up in a bar by the beach (which was awesome. Bit colder than Brittany, but sand and sea and seagulls? Brings me right back to my childhood). Then we picked up Floris, and headed to the house to wait for the others–who trickled in throughout the afternoon.

I had, er, enthusiastically volunteered for cooking the Friday night; and discovered, not so enthusiastically, that the house had no cooking equipment. By which I meant, no spatulas, and no decent saucepans or frying pans that could conceivably be used for 7 people. I had to improvise quite a bit–thank God Floris was there to calm my panic attacks. My new resolution, by the way, is that next time I travel to a VD and propose to cook, I’ll pack chopsticks in my bag.
Still, it mostly went well, and the banana coconut pudding had its usual striking success (even though I screwed up the coconut cream preparation by misreading the packet Steve had bought for me).
Other stuff we ate at VD included Nancy’s homemade pizza, yum, Sylvia’s chocolate caramel cookies, and Steve’s lasagna with cheese, spinach and pine seeds (mmmmmmm, creaminess). As mentioned before, it’s a cooking and writing workshop!

The house was very nice, located by a fishing pond (which had plenty of geese), and with plenty of walks available a short distance from the house. That it was also quite near Gatwick was a definite plus.

Like Ruth says, this was easily the most productive VD we had: in addition to the crit circles in the morning, we had work sessions in the afternoon, where we’d tell our goal for the 2 hours, and come back and report on what we’d done. I managed to return almost all my OWW crits of “The Two Sisters in Exile”, and edit the draft for submission. And edit my outline for the urban fantasy. Phew.

We also had the submission party, which was awesome–we sat around a table and sent things out (I didn’t have much to send out, so I stuck to a query for something), a total of thirty queries and subs were sent out, and we got our first acceptance before the workshop was over!

I headed back on the Tuesday afternoon, spent some time at the airport with Nancy where we talked ebook covers and marketing, and then got my train back to London and my Eurostar (and 500g of cheddar. Yes, I bring back souvenirs from abroad. Grand family tradition: food is the best kind of souvenir, because it gets eaten and doesn’t clutter the house).

As usual when coming back from a VD, I then had the zombie shuffle, accompanied by a desperate need to sleep, because I had a wedding on the following weekend. Not much productivity; though I did set a world record by selling “Immersion” a scant few weeks after the workshop was over!

That’s all from me. Happy five years, Villa Diodati–you’ve been awesome so far, and I have no doubt there’s more in store.

OK, now that I’ve done the edits… Pleased to announce I’ve sold my Villa Diodati story “Immersion” to Clarkesworld for their June issue. It’s… er… my rant against globalisation, beauty standards and the uses and abuses of tourism and expatriation in non-Western countries. Also, it has a plot that centres around a Vietnamese restaurant and a dish of lemongrass chicken

Thanks go to the Villa Diodati crew (Ruth Nestvold, Sylvia Spruck Wigley, Floris M Kleijne, Stephen Gaskell, John Olsen, Nancy Fulda); to Glen Mehn for volunteering to read it even after I told him it was unkind to White males; and, above and always, to Rochita Loenen-Ruiz for inspiring this and so many other things in my life.

Snippet:

In the morning, you’re no longer quite sure who you are.

You stand in front of the mirror—it shifts and trembles, reflecting only what you want to see—eyes that feel too wide, skin that feels too pale, an odd, distant smell wafting from the compartment’s ambient system that is neither incense nor garlic, but something else, something elusive that you once knew.

You’re dressed, already—not on your skin, but outside, where it matters, your avatar sporting blue and black and gold, the stylish clothes of a well-travelled, well-connected woman. For a moment, as you turn away from the mirror, the glass shimmers out of focus; and another woman in a dull silk gown stares back at you: smaller, squatter and in every way diminished—a stranger, a distant memory that has ceased to have any meaning.

(also, wow. Remain very very amazed at Clarkesworld’s response times. I think Neil is a robot)

Ah-ha, so I wrote a story during our romantic weekend in Champagne-Ardennes (yes, that was pretty much a fail in terms of actual romanticism, lol. But I did write most of it yesterday, after the weekend was over, so it’s OK )

Set in the Xuya continuity, in my new sandbox of the Đại Việt Empire (aka the Vietnamese in space, lol). And has, er, ships. Lots of ships, a pregnant woman, and cultural conflicts around space travel. I actually started it out a couple of months ago based on three different kinds of tea (longjing, keemun/qimen and bai hao yinzhen): each scene was to be introduced by a short excerpt that would focus on the experience of drinking a tea, as well as introduce the central emotion of the scene. But when I wrote the story, the tea parts didn’t actually mesh very well with the rest of the (1st-person, addressing 2nd person) narration, so I just struck it out. It’s also 4000 words, which is starting to be a bit long for a first person addressing a second person, but what the heck. Narrative persons are made to be messed with

Snippet:

You never liked your sister.

I know you tried your best; that you would stay awake at night thinking on filial piety and family duty; praying to your ancestors and the bodhisattva Quan Am to find strength; but that it would always come back to that core of dark thoughts within you, that fundamental fright you carried with you like a yin shadow in your heart.

I know, of course, where it started. I took you to the ship–because I had no choice, because Khi Phach was away on some merchant trip to the Twenty-Third Planet–because you were a quiet and well-behaved son, and the birth-master would have attendants to take care of you. You had just turned eight–had stayed up all night for Tet, and shaken your head at your uncles’ red envelopes, telling me you were no longer a child and didn’t need money for toys and sweets.

And, hum, now I’ve finished procrastinating, I’ll go back to my novel chapters…

I guess I should actually post about this: I’ll be in Bucharest May 17th-May 20th for personal reasons; but Cristian Tamas has very kindly offered me to take part in the SRSFF ProspectArt meeting on Friday May 18th, from 17:00. Location is the Calderon Cultural Center, 39, Jean-Louis Calderon Street, sector 2. I’ll be interviewed for a bit, and then read from one of my as-yet unpublished short stories (very probably “Immersion” or “The Two Sisters in Exile”, which barely anyone has seen yet!).

You can find more information about the event (in Romanian) here [1]. And for those of you who can make it, I look forward to seeing you there!

(and, hum, aside from this, if anybody has recommendations on what the H and I should see while in Bucharest, go ahead)

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[1] I don’t speak a word of Romanian, but google translate tells me it says very blush-inducing things about me and my fiction…

So… I never thought I’d ever say this, but it’s the second time in less than a month that I find myself cooking in a kitchen that’s not my own, and I have to say you don’t realise how well-stocked your kitchen is until you run into one that’s… less well-stocked? I was cooking for VD [1], and the things I missed the most were, by order of decreasing importance:

-chopsticks. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m absolutely useless as a cook without a pair of chopsticks.
-kitchen knife. The difference between a good quality, balanced knife and a random ikea knife really is striking. Not in a good way. (also, still a fan of santoku over more Western-shaped knife; the thing just feels better in my hand. The household is sharply divided between my husband, who uses the paring knife and the traditional kitchen knife; and I, who just reach for the santoku for everything from dicing carrots to cubing meat).
-pots and pans. More minor, but gah, the absence of a wok with a lid is a major drawback for so many dishes. Especially broccoli.

So I guess I’ve learnt my lesson: take chopsticks with me next time I have to cook in a stranger’s kitchen

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[1] In case you’re wondering, the actual Villa Diodati workshop was great; I got tons of work done, edited “The Two Sisters in Exile” into submittable form, and made a head start on revising “Immersion”, aka the globalisation piece in space (with social networks! And Vietnamese! And lemongrass chicken!).

Just a heads-up that I’ll be in Sussex for four days for the Villa Diodati workshop; there might be wifi there, but I’m not really going to be inclined to keep blogging much…

See you on Wednesday

I was actually checking my website for traffic (which is increasing, yay me!), but those were too funny not to share. Thanks to the H for suggesting I inflict them on you guys; all complains should be addressed to ML in Paris *g*.

1. male underwear upper parts
Ha, someone must have been very disappointed. I wonder if I should convince the H to pose for nude pictures?

2. a glittering ballerina scarred forever
Er, I admit have no idea what was going on here. (this actually got multiple searches. Colour me puzzled).

3. the science of pineapple brownies
Ha. Fair point. So, pineapple brownies: chemical reactions between gluten in flour, butter and chocolate, cemented by a good hour in the oven to form a superstructure that holds together in the dish. (what do you mean, no? Ah yes, I didn’t actually take chemistry beyond cristallography and basic organics… Mind you, I suspect it’s fairly simple stuff as far as chemistry is concerned, which doesn’t mean it’s unimportant. Pineapple chocolate brownies is a vitally important dish, a concentrate of yumminess that dispels the gloom)

4. reflection paper on dancer’s gift sociology in life
Hum, I’m afraid I can’t help you there?

5. best stir-fry recipe ever
I’m flattered. Given that the post in question is stir-fried broccoli, though, again, disappointment looms…

6. lymond chronicles movie
OK, if they ever make one of this and it’s *not* Hollywood writing the script, I’ll sign up for it faster than you can blink. Francis Lymond on the big screen… Yum…

7. story about my idea of relaxation
Well-known facts: writers are psychic. So, apparently, is google.

8. mango stuck between teeth
I’m just getting a very uncharitable mental idea here, ha ha ha.

9. algorithm of simhuman
You mean, like computers pretending to be famous authors?

10. amazing places on earth
Yup, this website. You’re here.

Via xanthalanari and j_cheney: learnt that KD Wentworth passed away from complications related to cancer and pneumonia. I… um, am pretty much speechless.
She was always generous with her advice, and did a beyond-excellent job of being the first judge for Writers of the Future, as well as an awesome teacher and a great writer. Gaaah. The world sucks.

Remember that snippet I posted earlier? I now have a 4000-word story to go with it–temporary title “The Two Sisters in Exile”. Put it up on OWW for crits, and waiting for the inevitable complaints about density. (to be fair, it’s very very dense, and I didn’t even get to cram enough food in it [1]).
*sigh*
I shall now go back to my novel and browbeat it into submission. So far, it hasn’t exactly been cooperative…

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[1] All stories should have food. It improves the plot immeasurably. Also, it compensates for those times when I’m typing on my computer and can’t have more than a mug of tea and a raisin because it’s not dinnertime yet.

And now for a minor rant on politics… Yesterday we got the leaflets for the presidential campaign of all our candidates (a solid dozen or so). The H went through them, making sarcastic comments as he waded deeper into them (a lot of them were about financial regulations and what we should do about the banks, which is unfortunate for them because the H works in an investment bank). He handed the lot to me, and said something to the effect of “you should read them, but it’s seriously pathetic”.

And, I have to admit, he’s right. There are many many things that I find outright creepy in them–the insistence on overtaxing companies (er, can I point out that companies you overtax will just move to another country where taxes are lower?), on curbing immigration and promoting French values at the expense of Europe (yeah, sure, let’s step back a few decades).

But that’s not the pathetic thing. The thing is–all of those leaflets, save one [1], fail on a very simple basic criterion: they don’t make sense. They present a presidential program that does a combination of: incoherent measures, promising something we already have in place (like separating investment activities from credit activities. We already have that), and/or promising something intenable (you can’t actually hand out gift measures to everyone, and promise we’ll balance our budget by 2017). And I stare at them, and think, oh my God. That’s leaflets for voters. They think we’re going to swallow this hook, line and sinker. They think we know so little about our own country, that we have so little logical and critical sense that we’ll believe all of this.

It’s… scary. Probably not in the way that they intended, but it doesn’t make me very optimistic about the coming years.

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[1] You’ll wonder about the one that made sense, aka the only leaflet the husband didn’t poke holes into as he was reading it. It’s the one from our incumbent, Sarkozy. I hate many of his measures, but I have to grant him this: he presents a coherent program, doesn’t make promises I don’t believe in for a second, and I actually trust him to do something during his presidency that doesn’t include major fuck-ups. It’s a shame, as said above, that I don’t agree with many of his measures, especially his stance on Europe and immigration.