1. Many thanks to everyone who donated to Liaden Universe® story, “The Rifle’s First Wife,” and to Splinter Universe. Here’s the link, for those who haven’t read the story, yet. And here’s the link to a discussion of our plans for the site. Both pieces may be read for free; donations are appreciated, not mandatory.
2. Speaking of reading for free, “The Gift of Music,” set in Archers Beach, Maine, is available at Baen.com. Go here and scroll down. Scrolling down is key.
3. In answer to the several. . .concerned emails asking whether or not we’re working on the next Liaden book — yes. Yes, we are.
4. The electronic edition of Carousel Sun, the sequel to Carousel Tides, is now available directly from Baen and from your favorite ebook vendor. The trade paperback won’t be released by Amazon or BN until February 4, but! Uncle Hugo’s has signed copies available right now. Here’s your link.
5. It’s a bright and sunshine-y 1F/-17C outside at the moment, and I need to go into town. Everybody stay warm.
So, to the dentist early this morning, on Steve’s behalf. This was the last in a series of four dental-related adventures scheduled for this week. Everything’s come out well. I do wish there was dental insurance available anywhere in the beautiful state of Maine, though. Ow.
Since we were already out, and the sun was, too; and after Steve had eaten his fill of a breakfast that wasn’t “soft,” we pointed Argent the Subaru in the direction of the Great City of Augusta, where it was our intention to visit our “local” Barnes and Noble to sign stock, and also to take on Tesla: Inventor of the Electric Age.
Stock consisted of one hardcover Trade Secret, and one each paperbacks Fledgling, Saltation, Mouse and Dragon, and was quickly dealt with.
The Tesla bio was not in stock, so it’s being sent along to the house as soon as BN finds one in the warehouse.
Bidness done, we mooched around; Steve was being entranced by the games and toys. I wandered over to the Writing and Publishing section, and saw a book titled Book in a Month: The Fool-Proof System for Writing a Novel in 30 Days. The dental bill very much in my mind, I picked this up, to find that it is authored by one Victoria Lynn Schmidt, PhD, who has written several books touching on the craft of writing, but does not appear, herself, to have actually written a novel.
Am I wrong to want a book about a fool-proof system for writing a novel in 30 days to have actually been written by someone who, oh, I don’t know, writes novels? In 30 days? And sells them?
Sheesh.
After that disappointment, it was all the more delightful to find our friend Stew minding the music section. We shot many bulls; Steve bought a Tai Chi DVD and I bought a Yoga DVD, and as we were standing there getting the credit cards sorted out, I said, “Nice fiddle music,” and Steve agreed. Stew showed us the cover for “What’s Playing Now” and we added Lindsey Stirling to our pile. For, as it turns out, free, because BN was having an in-store “buy two, get the third free” sale.
We played the new music on the way home. I gotta tell you what — I’d’ve played the hell of this thing when I was incarcerated working at Colby.
The schedule for the rest of the day includes writing, and laundry, and maybe a nap. Because — rising ridiculously early four days in a row? So not cool.
So, I’m reading a book about the life and times of Billy the Kid*. Billy being one of those folks, like Doc Holliday, who didn’t leave much of a paper-trail, the book (so far) is more about the times than the man.
Though I’d like more Billy, I’m being tolerably amused by the recounting of the times, and the large cast of characters who lived during them, and the author’s choices of relevant information.
For instance, in attempting to put the Wild West and the Wild West Hero, into context with the times, the author pursues a discussion of dime novels, which I reproduce in part here:
The dime novels published by the brothers Erastus and Irwin Beadle of the mass-market publisher the House of Beadle and Admas were some of the most popular of that era, starting in June 1860 with Malaeska: The Indian Wife of the White Hunter. Considered the first dime novel, Malaeska tells the tragic tale of an Indian maiden married to a white settler. It proved a romantic sensation and sold more than sixty-five thousand copies within the first few months.
Nathaniel Hawthorne complained bitterly about what he perceived as a gaggle of female romance writers, whom he called “this damned mob of scribbling women,” who clogged the bestseller lists and prevented his own literary works from being read and discussed. . . .With the appearance of the typewriter in the 1870s imaginative authors could earn good wages at a penny a word. Many of them could knock out a thousand words an hour for hours on end.
Not only were the damned women writers even then Doing It Wrong and Spoiling Everything, but they were earning a penny a word for doing it. In my lifetime, I remember — and submitted to — markets that paid 1/2 cent a word. Also — 65,000 copies? *swoons*
. . .There’s an afternoon run to Bangor on today’s calendar, which means writing is happening in 3. . .2. . .1. . .
____________
*Billy the Kid: The Endless Ride, Michael Wallis
Slept in, had a leisurely breakfast with Steve, brushed three coon cats; two of whom like to be brushed, and one who thinks that brushing is a sign of the End Times.
Trooper and Sprite are watching the bird feeder action as the snow drifts down. Mozart is curled up in the Warmest Corner in my office. Scrabble is supervising Steve from atop the Former Home of Circular Logic BBS.
I put chocolate in my third cup of coffee to celebrate the snow, and, after I post this, will get on with the day’s writing. If all goes well, we’ll break early tonight and stream that gentle romantic comedy, The Sorcerer and the White Snake, for relaxation.
I see by the One Calendar that the rest of the week is going to be rather busy with Things, so I may be scarce around the intertubes. You have been warned.
I hope everyone has a pleasant Sunday and, indeed, a pleasant week.
A couple of interesting articles were pointed out in Another Part of the Internet. I’m posting them here to boost the signals, and because they are an interesting addition to the ongoing shouting match discussion about how women don’t write SF/F, except when they’re putting guy writers out of a job by doing it wrong.
The break-out points from the NPR study of women in cinema, at I’m Working On It, including some interesting information from studies done at the Geena Davis Institute regarding how men perceive the number of women within a group.
Anybody got any more? Real Numbers relating to real publishing are what we’re looking for, not Opinions. The reason the shouting match discussion exists is that there are ‘way too many Opinions, and ‘way too few Real Numbers.
This in answer to numerous requests for the titles of the stories reprinted in the Danish cat stories anthology:
Skitty, Mercedes Lackey Cats in Victory, David Barr Kirtly A Matter of Ceremony, Sharon Lee The Cat, Gene Wolfe Out of Place, Pamela Sargent The Alien Mind, Philip K. Dick Mother of Champions, Sean McMullen All Cats are Gray, Andre Norton Space-time for Springers, Fritz Leiber Tobermory, Saki Jade Blue, Edward Bryant Ordeal in Space, Robert A. Heinlein What Fluffy Knew, Kristine Kathryn Rusch Virtually, a Cat, Jody Lynn Nye Dysfunctional Family Cat, Paul Melko The Beancounter’s Cat, Damien Broderick
There was a call, down in another thread, for the “stories” of Trooper and Sprite.
There’s really not much to tell, here.
Socks’ death left a big hole, not only in the lives of Cat Farm Management, but also in Mozart and (though she would never admit such a thing) Scrabble’s lives. We had initially decided to wait until November to take on a new crew member, since we knew we had some traveling coming up, what with the BEA and the book tour. We changed our mind when Mozart seemed to still be expecting us to be bringing Socks home This Time, every time we went away.
Here’s Socks:
Socks in a box
So, we went looking for an older — i.e. Not a Kitten — Maine Coon, to keep Mozart company.
We deliberately kept our search within New England; indeed, within Maine and New Hampshire, and no more than a day’s drive from the Cat Farm.
Which search led us, in the fullness of time, to Kelimcoons, where the decision to retire Trooper from Show Business had only recently been taken. Here’s a link to the show cat page at Kelimcoons. Scroll down a little, and you’ll find Trooper. After a lengthy discussion and many questions asked on both sides, it was decided that Steve and I could drive down to New Hampshire, meet Trooper, and put the question to him in person.
We did that at the end of June; the reply was in the affirmative, and we brought him home with us.
Trooper has been a joy from the start; he’s a sweet-natured, and genuinely kind cat, interested in the doings, and respectful of the elder cats. We worry that he’s a little serious, but then he’ll perform an unsubtle and, to him, hilarious, Maine Coon gag and put it all in perspective.
Bringing Trooper into the house demonstrated really clearly the difference between a four year old cat and an Elder Statescat. Trooper wanted to play — and, having come from a house full of cats, he wanted to play with somebody. He tempted Mozart with springs and ping-pong balls and Turtle and. . .Mozart wanted to sleep. Which was OK; Trooper likes to sleep, and he’s perfectly fine, sleeping with the Old Guy.
Just not, yanno, all the time.
So, we realized that, yes, we were going to have to get a cat for our cat. As frequent readers will recall, we made an attempt to bring in local talent to fill the position, but the talent had a different vision and we quickly, and amicably, parted ways.
Even knowing that they didn’t expect to retire any other adults until late fall, I did it — I hoped over to Kelimcoons, and. . .there was Sprite. She had lost her first litter of kittens and rather than put her, and themselves, through the trauma of attempting another litter, the family had decided to spay her and put her up for adoption.
I was immediately drawn — that face! And, then I was convinced, because, as it happens, Trooper had sired only one single litter, and Sprite? Was from that litter.
She was 15 months old, a little younger than we had wanted, but — Trooper’s daughter! And Trooper’s such a doll.
By this time the book tour was breathing down our necks, and we didn’t want to bring a new cat into the house while we were away, and. . .
I wrote the email anyway. And Kelimcoons very kindly agreed to hold Sprite for us until we returned from the book tour.
Which is why two days after the end of the tour, Steve drove down to New Hampshire and came home with a young lady cat, who immediately hid in the cellar until she realized that Upstairs was where the action was. She has spent her time since ascending attempting to Conquer this territory.
If Trooper is a little too serious, Sprite is a little too goofy. Until she collapses in your arms, and turns on her twin-engine purr-box. Then, she’s perfect.
