The last week has been somewhat of the hard-slog variety, for a variety of baby-related reasons. Or rather, for a variety of baby-modified reasons. Heat waves aren't fun at the best of times, especially when you don't have air conditioning (and our place doesn't even have access to the cooling southerly breezes) — but when you're cuddling a baby for an average of 50 minutes of every hour, it gets even less so. Similarly, RSI is whimper-making, but when it's caused and aggravated by constantly picking up and holding and settling and soothing and putting down a baby, and there's simply no option of ceasing that activity… Well, you get the picture.
I'm currently wearing a splinted brace on each wrist, a compression band on my right forearm to alleviate the tennis elbow, and I think I need to add a brace to my left knee as well. I'm more neoprene now than woman…
But, to balance things out, the world has been sending me happy-making news regarding my story, "First They Came…". There's some news I'm not yet at liberty to discuss, but among that I can talk about is this wondrous review by Tsana Dolichva:
A really beautiful story that subverts expectation in unexpected ways. It started as a tale of a Melbourne in which shyness had been classed a disease, but it ended as so much more.
…I know which future Twelve Planet collection I'm most looking forward to now.
The story has also been nominated for a Ditmar, and I have to admit the thought of anybody reckoning the story as worthy of attention makes me stupidly happy. (For those keeping count, it's also eligible for the Chronos Awards.)
Given its theme, it seems supremely fitting that the way this story is gathering attention is quietly, gently, quietly.