Liminal states are not happy states. Take zombies. Zombies are transitional, miserable beings–not quite dead, not quite alive. They shuffle about–no standing still or purposeful striding. Instead of killing you with ninja stealth or a mighty barbarian beserker yell, they mumble and moan. “Nnnnnnn ggahhh brrrrrrrrrr aeeeeeeeeee nnnnnnnssss,” they say, and you’re tempted to stop running and screaming and instead turn and smack them into speaking clearly. At least there’s nothing half-way about their brain cravings.
(What’s with the irrepressible desire for brains, anyway? Are there no chocolate-craving zombies?)
Every time I apply for something that I really care about, like grad school, I shamble through life like a zombie, except with less purpose, until I get a response. Even outright rejection, like a chainsaw or shotgun blast to an undead head, is welcome relief.
In-between is where I’ve been for the past month, while I waited for a response from the Clarion and Clarion West workshops.
Some of you may be wondering what Clarion is. I’ll draw on a parallel example from real life. Let’s say that your dearest dream was to become a famous pirate actor. You learn that every summer there’s a six-week pirate acting school, and that each week is essentially taught by a actor-in-residence, and that hundreds of wannabe pirate actors apply but only 18 get in. And the teachers for this year are some of the most famous pirate actors out there: Keira Knightly, Johnny Depp, Cary Elwes (The Dread Pirate Roberts), Robert De Niro (Captain Shakespeare in Stardust), Dustin Hoffman (Hook). Each week, you and your classmates get up in front of Knightly, or Elwes, and you “harrrrrr” and shiver your timbers and show that you are not left-handed and the actor tells you exactly what you’re doing right or wrong and comes over and shifts your stance just so.
Now replace “famous pirate actors” with “famous science fiction and fantasy authors” and you have the Clarion Workshops. The superstars for this year include the likes of Neil Gaiman and Connie Willis and Cory Doctorow. And instead of helping you talk like a pirate (well, they may still offer pointers on that), they read and critique the stories you and your star-struck cohort produce and have water gun fights and late night conversations.
Clarion at UCSD rejected me (so no quality time with Neil Gaiman this year), but the program that I really wanted to get into, Clarion West at Seattle, neither accepted nor rejected me. I am, instead, an “alternate.” This means that I probably just missed getting in, which is heartening (especially considering that this was a particularly competitive year). But it means that my only hope for going is if I hang out vulture-like (zombie-like?), waiting for someone to drop out so that I can eat their brains take their place. I’m not a very good vulture or zombie. I really, really want to go and spend time with my heroes, but I don’t want someone else to get sick or have a family emergency or fail to come up with the fees.
It’s a weird place to be, most likely not going but wondering if I should still avoid making commitments during half of summer. Do we need to look into childcare options? Should I save up the three thousand dollars for tuition? etc. Work might also be more forgiving if I gave them more than a last minute notice.
All complaining aside, it’s worth being in limbo just to have the opportunity to go. I dream of writing, and SF is my idiom. I will be a zombie for Cory Doctorow. Maybe I’ll get a chance to pick his brain.
Many thanks to xJane for offering an invaluable critique of one of my submission stories.
