In a week, I’ll be flying to San Diego Comic-Con. It’ll be the first time in three years. During the depths of the covid-19 crisis, I missed the Con, the people, and my friends. I missed the crowds and the long lines of eager faces waiting to get into the convention center each morning. I missed the artists I’ve gotten to know over the years. I missed the writers. And mostly I missed the volunteers with whom I work.

In the meantime, I’m nearing the end of my preparations to earn my Private Pilot certificate. Between uncooperative weather and my being a slow learner at certain kinds of tasks, it has been a long road. My landings are much better now, and I’m much more in sync with the combination of visual and physical skills needed. Most of what’s left is a cross country solo flight down to Columbia (SC), then to Greenwood near Abbeville, where my dad used to be the Episcopal priest, then back to Greenville. It would have happened a couple of weeks ago, but the weather keeps throwing low clouds and thunderstorms in our direction. The flight school is busy with summer camps this week, so my next opportunity will be Friday, but the weather is already looking unsuitable. After that, I just need to refine some specific skills for the “check ride”–the Private Pilot version of the final exam.

The delays don’t trouble me. Aviation teaches Patience, and those who are slow to learn become cautionary tales in the ledgers of the NTSB.

I have a Gaslamp Fantasy novel queried out to a number of agents. Now I’m waiting for responses. The intervening silence can eat away at a writer’s confidence, but the patience I’m learning from flying helps keep my confidence intact. That, and working on another novel. It’s the first time I’ve tried a middle-grade story–the backstory of one of the main characters from an earlier fantasy novel. And there’s a short story still in the works, and a slightly wacky fantasy novel that involves some stroppy furniture. I’ll keep trying until something gets published.