author: Nicole J. LeBoeuf

Got some email today. It appears that the She's Such A Geek anthology will not be including anything written by me.

*Sigh*

But a rejection letter is always better than no letter at all. I'd been a little concerned when no response had shown up by the 15th, which I think had been the date they'd set as the latest followup time.

I'm not entirely sure that this essay really has any other market, since I sort of wrote it to order. But I don't throw anything away. So the slush piles of the publishing world may yet see this thing once more. 'Til then... ta!

The essay has been sent. Nevermind that it's three-quarters-past-midnight on the 16th; I have at last finished and submitted my "geek" essay. With any luck the editors will let the extra 45 minutes slide and they'll read it anyway.

I'm not as happy with it as I might be, but the ending made my nose prickle and my eyes water, so I guess the right chords get hit by the end. I'm not entirely sure my Mom would be as happy with it as I'd want her to, either; hopefully she'll take it in the spirit with which it's intendend.

And yes, yes I know, I had misspelled Jane Austen's name in my previous entry. All better now, see?

There. Now. On to other things with deadlines.

So, what, I figure a Jane Austen riff in an anthology about female geeks makes for a delightful, how-shall-we-say, frisson, a lovely little anachronistic twinge of humorous irony. Or just humor. Or maybe it just makes me sound like a pompous ass but, y'know, I'm willing to take that chance.

I'm having fun.

The problem with autobiographical essays is figuring out what the hell's so special about me of all people that anyone should bother publishing a polished up piece of my life in their pages. For money, even. Once I get past that problem--once I convince myself I actually have lived a story worth telling--the next pitfall for me is the tendency towards self-aggrandizement. A tendency which you just might have noticed in these very pages, in fact.

With this piece, though, I think I might just manage to come over both of those hurdles unscathed. The subject is something that needs saying, can't be said enough, and places all the praise on someone not the author.

This piece is going to be a 3,500 word "thank you" to my mother.

(Hi mom!)

The nutshell is, where some daughters have been told--where some, amazingly enough in this day and age, continue to get told--that if they don't play dumb they'll risk dying unwed and unloved, oh heck, oh horrors, my Mom gave me some remarkably sane advice: Better not to marry at all, than to marry a guy who's insecure around your brain. (I think it's safe to say that I took her advice). But this isn't just about marriage. Looking back over my growing-up years, I can see a long line of encouragements and priorities that stem from the same values of which Mom's advice was an apt expression: Don't suffer fools who won't suffer you to be who you are. Don't let anyone drag you down.

As parental values go, those are some good ones. And I think they may just be responsible for the weird variety of interests and pursuits I've ended up pursuing. Knitting and aviation and spinning wheels and MySQL/PHP widgets--what the hell, why not describe it in a she-geek essay wrapped up in a Jane Austen-style frame. Damn appropriate, I think.

This puppy should see submission tomorrow, one day ahead of the deadline. Thank goodness for email. But, since acceptance is never a guarantee, I'm going to just pause here and say, without need for prior editorial review:

Mom, ya done raised a geek, and for that she's eternally grateful. Love always.