Can It Get Any Worse?

If you are alive and able to ask that question, the answer is almost invariably yes.  Yes it can.  And so it has.

I am not fool enough to dismiss the good that has come my way in favor of only recognizing the misfortunes.  For instance, the birth of my first grandchild, a precious baby girl, is not to be overlooked.  But on the whole, 2018 brings to mind Robert Burns’ famous poem “To a Mouse.”  My best laid plans for the year have gone askew.

From the lens of last December, this year sparkled with all the potential that hope could imbue.  Even starting the year with the worst flu of my life did not diminish my expectations.  But here we are in October.  Events that I will not detail slowly drained the potential from the year.  Not nearly enough writing was accomplished, and even less publication (zero).  In August I was forced to cancel my plans to attend Worldcon 76.  And now, another convention that I had my heart set on, MileHiCon 50, may be slipping away due to the onset of shingles.

But, while 2018 has been something of a train wreck, don’t count me out.  I’m not.  Despair be damned.  I’ll be back at it as soon as I stop feeling like crap.

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