It's February, and far too early for the IROSF curse to be rearing its ugly head.
Oh, you haven't heard about the curse of IROSF? Yes, each fall we lose an Editor-in-Chief to some sort of unexpected circumstance.
However, just as this particular issue was nearing its publication date (and as I write this, we're already two days past it, so you can tell something ain't right), a member of my family grew strangely, undiagnosably ill. Naturally, I put trivial things aside and focussed on home. But in the back of my head, I'm thinking, wait, it's not autumn yet!
Some ten days later, the medical profession's best guess at a diagnosis is "It might be a virus"—but they provided a number of costly medications that don't have anything to do with viruses, just in case. (Just in case the hospital might go broke, that is.)
So that's the bad news. The good news is, it's getting better on its own, as many illnesses tend to do. So here I am back at the office finishing up another fine issue of The Internet Review of Science Fiction and reflecting on how much better it is now than it used to be. To remember how to format a bibliography (for Jay and Ruth's engaging article on YA fiction) I went scrounging through the archives, way back to 2004, and noticed there were only seven articles in the issue. Seven! Okay, they were pretty good ones, though.
In other staff news, Joy is slowly on the mend, but is not sure if and when she'll be able to come back to us; Travitt is taking a well-earned hiatus; Yoon is resettled in a new part of the United States and back on duty; Corie is diving into the pool head first, and Matt is already splashing around in the deep end. Is your head spinning yet? I know mine is.
Seriously, I am amazed that so many people contribute so much to every issue of IROSF: the spirit of generosity that drives the Internet is absolutely inspiring.
Last month I put some big ideas up on the editorial, and I stand behind them. But they are not going to happen this month...February promises to be an amazingly hectic month for yours truly. In the first place some friends (the fiends) roped me into planning the programming for Potlatch 15, which is a wonderful, small, literary con that supports Clarion West as it roams around the Pacific Northwest. Wonderful, but still more work than I expected. Moreover, the week before that I am off to Washington's Tri-Cities for RadCon, yet another convention—this one a lively everything-for-everyone convention out in the wilds of Eastern Washington State. It's enough public exposure to make any introvert pensive.
Nonetheless, if you happen to be at either of these events, look me up, track me down, say hi, buy me beer. Well, that latter is optional, but I'm more fun when supplied with beer. There won't be any formal IROSF presence at either of these cons, although last year's bash at the NASFic was a ton of fun and I do hope to host a couple more convention parties sometime this year. (IROSF readers take note: have a local con you like? Want to help pull together an IROSF party? Have a place for some IROSF flyers, bookmarks, or advertising? Talk to me!)
Back to the curse, though. With this illness passing, and life getting back to its crazy, hectic normalcy, I feel as though I've been put on warning.
So, with all these speculative fiction readers reading...over 4,000 at last count...anyone out there know how to diagnose a curse? C'mon, you can't do any worse than the medical profession!