Hey, guys. Need some help.

Y'all know I'm a ficcer. My family doesn't know that I'm a ficcer, but they do know I'm deeply involved in my "online writing group", and after three years of this I'm rather disinclined to out myself to them. It's all too complicated and my sister (who already is a little hurt I won't share my writing with her) just doesn't understand the whole obsession focus on television shows.

At any rate, so yeah, they know I write but not what. The problem I've run into is my sister has an old college friend who is a novelist (2 written, I gather) but who can't manage to sell anything. My sister mentioned to this friend (we'll call her J) that I am involved with online writing groups and get a lot of support and editing help from the communities I'm involved in.

So J wants in. She wants to know where I'm doing all this and shit like that.

So, 2 problems: (a) I'm not going to out myself as a ficcer to J if I'm not going to tell my sister. (b) I don't know where the mainstream original-fiction-writing online communities are.

Anyone got any advice? What do I tell this woman?

Consuela, give her my email and point her at my website. Tell her you get online editing support from me - hell, if your conscience bothers you, send me something and I'll support it and that clears conscience.

I actually DO edit online for people, and I do have a meatspace writing group (six regulars, here in the City).

And it may get her off your back, and since I've got mainstream cred or whatever, you won't have to tell them diddly if you don't want to.

psssst, for David:

Of course, The Who totally steal that show. At the height of their powers, fucking around and absolutely certain that they're the best rock and roll band on earth. And they're right.

remind me to tell you about the Who, the not very bright POTUS, and the near-firefight with the federales in the basement of the Sheraton Palace Hotel in San Francisco in the mid-seventies....

Deb, you're a queen among women. Mwah.

I do feel bad about misrepresenting myself. Hell, I'd be happy to read J's work myself, since I've worked with several people (including at least one Buffista) on original novels. But I don't have anything to share with J to prove my ability, and none of the online communities I'm active in do original fiction -- except this one. And here there's too much overlap with the fic.

Like I said, babe, send her to me. Because I can make it nice and clear that "I don't discuss other writers' work without their permission, and Consuela prefers not."

Boy, can I sound like snot on toast, or what?

Oh, I don't need snotty. I'm all in favor of supporting people, I just don't have much to offer her. Hell, I don't even know what she writes. If it turns out to be Oprah victim-of-the-week stuff, I really won't be able to help her. (Besides, what if she's awful? eeeps)

Although it's odd -- I've made amazing connections through the online communities I'm in. I'm 2 degrees away from half a dozen marvelous fantasy novelists via the online fannish community. Heee. And my sister-in-law went to college with Elizabeth McCracken, author of The Giant's House. Now if I only had the drive to use these connections... (okay, and actually write something worth publishing).

I do have one friend with three vampire thrillers in the can, that I really need to poke a bit about polishing them up and sending them off. She's amazingly talented and these things are just... sitting there. They need to be read by someone other than me.

... and on that note, I'm off to do real work. But I'm bringing an unfinished original thing with me to work on when the discussion of the geology of the central O'ahu plateau gets too dry.

R&R Circus was about a year, year and a half before I met Nicky.

Nicky Hopkins? Fuck. I wish you could've heard the long conversation I had with a local musician where she went on about "God, we'd love to find a pianist who could play like Nicky Hopkins, but there's nobody like him."

Deb's too cool. And I need to corner her at her house and get Who/POTUS gossip.

Somebody post that story. Inquiring minds....

Drive-by to crow that I'm proud of myself. I outlined a new spec TV script. It's not perfect or nuthin', but I haven't really worked on my writing since before the holidays, so this is good.

AnnieLeibovitz+SusanSontag4Eva!!!

Oh, I don't need snotty.

Heh. I am NEVER snotty to people; I meant, the post I put up sounded like I was practising being the ubersnot.

And I need to corner her at her house and get Who/POTUS gossip.

Yes, dear, you honestly do. It's not like you don't live, what? Ten minutes away?

It's a brilliant story, summed up by a simple fact: Someone put Keith Moon in a hotel suite one floor directly below Gerald Ford's suite. Lordy, what an evening. And yes, there's a lot more to the story, but I ain't a-posting it here. It does, however, feature the deathless line: "Don't shoot! You'll cause an incident! They're aliens!"

Hint: that line was not spoken by anyone with a UK accent.

Deb, I posted the change to my fic in Bitchy Fic...