Jay

Jay Lake died this morning.

I got the news, as many of you did, when I woke up this morning. And I have spent the day processing it. As I will be for many days to come, I think.

It’s not that it was a surprise, of course. The timing perhaps–but even that, there had been warning. He’d had cancer since the day I’d met him. This day was always coming.

I met him at a small writing retreat in the wilds of the Washington rainforest-coast. I had been reading his blog for nearly a year; I’d watched his struggle with the first manifestation of his cancer. I’d watched him write a book in a little over a month (Green), and felt impressed and envious. Of course I’ve written books in a month, for NaNoWriMo. But I didn’t sell them to Tor a few weeks later. 🙂

The envy went away as soon as I met him; the “impressed” never did. He was one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. And with one of the biggest hearts. I’m seeing testimonials today all over Twitter and Facebook and LJ, from all sorts of people, speaking of how he was a generous, supportive, welcoming presence to the field. It’s true. He welcomed me in, and mentored me, and introduced me to most of the writers I know to this day.

Of course there was more. Of course he wanted to lure me into his bed–he was famous for that, and unapologetic about it. But the generosity and the welcome was for everyone–even the rare individuals he didn’t want to sleep with. 🙂

I hope this doesn’t sound too flip. I’ve been “writing” this post all day in my head. I’m sure I’ll get it wrong. I imagine that’s all right.

Jay loved life. He didn’t even make it to age 50–his birthday is this Friday. He grabbed as much of life as he could, in the short time he had.

immediately after eating “chum candy”

He tasted everything, no matter how weird. He didn’t take baby steps, he “ran screaming into the fire,” as he told me more than once. Sometimes I disagreed with him. I found him reckless. He made decisions I wouldn’t have made. But it was HIS life, and he lived it to the fullest. He lived it on his terms, while still being caring, loving, sensitive.

It was an impressive balancing act. It didn’t always work. I’ve spent all day talking to a number of his many ex-girlfriends. We form a kind of club–exasperated, sympathetic, still caring. Surprised and shocked and deeply saddened; not quite believing he’s really gone. Still carrying love in our hearts for him.

It ended badly, between him and me. I haven’t really written about it, and I’m not going to. That’s private. But we’d gotten past the worst of that, and were exploring being friends again. Before his latest round of (unsuccessful) treatments, we’d had lunch a few times, talked about the sequel to Our Lady of the Islands.

A huge thing we had together was our collaborative writing. I’d only published a few short stories before I met him. We wrote a ton of stories together, which was a total delight. Then we wrote a novel, which was to be the first of many. Except it’ll be the only one. I’m editing it now, for publication in October. I’m so, so sorry he won’t be able to read the final version.

Though I haven’t seen him in some time, his voice has been with me through this process. I’ve been rereading Endurance and Kalimpura, just to make sure I get the world right–or at least not screw it up too badly.

Anyway. There is so much to say. I wouldn’t be where I am–literally and metaphorically–if I hadn’t met Jay. He’s the reason I moved to Portland. He helped me through an enormous–and painful, and necessary–life transition. He gave a big boost to my writing career. He introduced me to my first proofreading client. He introduced me to Mark, and encouraged our romance.

Goodbye, Jay. You are loved, and you are missed. My thoughts are with your family, your partner, and all your many, many, many friends all over the world.

Jay, “ass over teakettle under yogurt,” an incident with an over-exuberant recliner-chair, which prompted a caption contest on his blog. The winner was Mark Bourne; the caption: “Best…orgasm…ever!”