I think my social skills are breaking down.

Yesterday, I was at a Clarion West party and I met Nancy Kress. I gushed that her short story, Trinity was one of my favourite short works (it totally is). She asked how Clarion West was going, and I confessed that I’d just had a rough critique. She told me to keep my chin up, and I told her that I wouldn’t let my ego be crushed because I’m an “egotistical dick”. This was supposed to be a joke.  Never make stupid, self-deprecated jokes in blue language to famous, award winning writers.

Before that, I told two writers in workshop that I thought they had stellar careers in front of them because of the way they write. I MEANT that their prose was excellent, professional quality. But everyone here is professional quality in one way or another. In my personal opinion, those two have mastered prose, but others have mastered character and still others have brilliantly original voices. I really believe that anyone of us could be the next Hugo winner. Instead of saying that, I accidentally dissed the other writers there (including myself).

Today, I was speaking to a fellow writer here at Clarion West that I really admire. His writing is unbelievably original, and some of the smoothest here. He has a way of taking the absolutely ridiculous and selling it to his readers in a tasty package they enjoy. I’ve laughed out loud several times reading his stuff. I’d love to be able to incorporate that into my writing, so I went to him to ask for help in learning how to inject a little of his style into my own work.  Then I told him his writing “didn’t make sense” but was “logical”. Fuck.

Everytime I want to compliment someone, it feels like I piss someone off.

I miss Alicia.

Goodnight.