Blog Without A Name

Well, so.

It’s snowing here, but, then, it’s snowing everywhere.  The weatherbeans are calling fourteen inches on tomorrow’s storm. I guess there’s an inch, inch-and-a-half down now from today’s little effort; fluffy enough that I could sweep what was there away when I got home, and not have to worry about going back out, oh, now to do some more.

The day-job having no snow policy for staff  saving, “Come to work, tho’ Hell should bar the way,” I’ll be depending on Wiser Heads for tomorrow’s plan of action.  If the state police say that only essential personnel should risk their necks in the weather, I will be listening to the nice policeman.  And, no, so not essential personnel.

In the meantime, though I meant to get on with “Intelligent Design” — of which more later — this evening, instead I wound up balancing the checkbook, doing some odds and ends of SRM bookkeeping, and dealing with the mail.

Ah, the mail! Among other items of interest, today’s mail brought a 1099-Misc from Fictionwise for my sales through them last year, totaling a whopping $156.48.  Not going to Vegas on that.

Also of note was the arrival of the W2 from the day-job, which confirms that income from writing (we’re just counting my half, here, right?  That’s fair, innit?) outstripped income from Honest Labor last year.  This year, I fear there will be No Contest. I’ve already had to take so many days without pay, and with the upfront for three novels due in, not to mention the Odd and Unexpected bits of money that wander in from time to time — well.  It wouldn’t be sporting.

The highlight of the day’s mail, however, was — Mr. Timpani, if you would?

Ahhhh.

The highlight of today’s mail, I say, was the contract for “Intelligent Design.”  And now?

Now it can be told — “Intelligent Design” has been commissioned by Baen and will be appearing on the front page of the Baen website as a free! story! in the merry monthe of mid-July.  And, what’s even cooler, than, yanno, a free Liaden story?

There’s a free story up there right now, by Larry Correia, and there’ll be another one, come mid-February, by another Baen author.  So what you really want to do?  Is bookmark this page, so you won’t miss out on any great free stories from Baen authors.

I think that catches everybody up on the excitement here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.  Everybody stay safe, stay warm, and be careful.

All righty, then!

Last night, we discovered that neither of the disks we had in from Netflix actually worked in the DVD player of my computer.  Whether this is DVD player fail, or DVD fail remains to be seen.  Still, we were in the mood to watch a movie, dern it, so we went out onto the intertubes and streamed “My Man Godfrey” straight out of Netflx Central.

The streaming worked a treat; the movie, despite my deep and abiding adoration of William Powell — not so much.  I don’t see why a perfectly sensible man ought to be stuck with an empty-headed screwball just because she loves him — but that’s probably just me.  I think he’d done perfectly fine with Molly, if the plot demanded romantic closure, a point of which I am doubtful.

Today, I filled out my Worldcon panelist survey.  Truly, I am made of energy and crunchy goodness.  I also made rice to serve as the base for day-job lunches throughout the coming week and did a bit of work on “Intelligent Design.”

I tried mightily, and failed equally so, to design a t-shirt at Cafepress, which aggravates me much more than it’s probably worth, but enough to ask — if you sell t-shirts on the internet, and you don’t use Cafepress, what do you use?

For those who keep count, tomorrow’s Monday, and hereabouts the weatherbeans are calling for cold.  Also, I have no window washer left in my car and I can’t get the hood open, though it reports that it’s unlocked.  Tomorrow’s drive to the day-job will therefore be Fraught With Peril.

Note to self: Laugh at Peril.

Next on the list here is doing the dishes, which I shall undertake immediately upon saying g’night to y’all, and then a wee bite of lunch.

Progress on “Intelligent Design”
3,072 out of 10,000 words OR 30.72%

G’night.

Well, so.  Steve ventured out into the snow showers early to mail the marked up galleys of Korval’s Game back to North Carolina.  I stayed home and updated the welcome page here at Sharon Lee, Writer, and dithered around the house, trying to figure out where the story was kinked.

Steve returned home, bearing birdfood, and I filled up the feeders, with him spotting me for the one that requires an over-the-head-stretch to set back on the pole (not a recommended placement).

(Finally) Figured out where the kink was, and talked it over with Steve when we met for dinner.  Then, after dinner got down to it.

I wrote about 1400 words today, but the numbers aren’t going to reflect that, because I cut 800 (which I may use later), retaining 900+ for the new! improved! narrative.

The flow is much better now.  Of course, now I’ve got three viewpoints weaving one plot, which is ambitious for a short piece, but the lazy way wasn’t working.

Now, we’re going to both knock off, watch a movie and relax.

Tomorrow, back to the word mines.

Progress on “Intelligent Design”
2,330 out of 10,000 words OR 23.30%

Day-job continues to be a stern chase. Got in and spent the usual 20 minutes reseating the usb connections from my keyboard and trackball into Mac so I could actually do my work. Sigh. It was 65F/18C in my office this morning when I arrived. I fear Mac likes the cold even less than he liked the extreme heat of summer.

After my computer was working, I got into sorting piles of stuff into piles of stuff that actually have something to do with each other. I made two — or was it three? — job talk posters. I started setting up interviews for the last set of three candidates, made photocopies and sorted them into their own piles; set up limo appointments, took in and processed a cool half-dozen electronic applications for the late-breaking surprise! search.

I’m still missing the whole “easy” part of that last. I can see that it might look easier to them what has no idea of the process and are distressed by huge stacks of file boxes reminding them that someone had to handle and process all that paper. But I’m not actually finding it easier to do. In fact, it seems to add about three steps to what I used to do.

At home, I managed to do a little bit of actual work — about 500 words on “Intelligent Design,” — which was like pulling hen’s teeth. Definitely looking forward to the weekend and having an attention span to bring to this story.

And, yes, as those of the cognescenti knew immediately upon looking at the title of today’s post — today’s earworm is “Electric Avenue.” I blame Pandora, which for some reason decided that I needed to listen to a string of old Motown.

Onward. But not right now.

Progress on “Intelligent Design”
1,731 out of 10,000 words OR 17.3% complete

Steve and I have two calendars on the kitchen table — those big, brick calendars that you pull off a page a day? — that we look at together every morning with breakfast.

One is a New Yorker cartoon calendar, which delivers its usual mix of shouted laughter and blank stares.  The other is Quotes from Wild Women, which, sadly, is not living up to its hype.  Today, for instance, it delivered up a quote from Annie Dillard, which I don’t remember — something about wanting a dark room to write in so the outer scenery doesn’t come between you and your inner version (paraphrasing broadly here).

…and I said to Steve, “Yanno, the only thing I know about Annie Dillard is that her writing advice is considered Holy by a certain subset of writers I know, but I haven’t the faintest idea what she’s written.”

Steve, being the sort of guy he is, immediately went to Amazon and found a list of Ms. Dillard’s works. Several of which seem to the same book, which has been “amended” after its initial publication.

My first reaction, upon hearing this was, “My ghod, how can she AFFORD to just keep tinking with the same books?”

…and so my bias is revealed.

Ms. Dillard is, as you probably knew, but I only today discovered, an emeritus professor. She had, I assume, tenure, and didn’t have to worry about writing new books; about earning out; about keeping her audience. I mean, I’m sure she worried about it, but not in the same way that I worry about losing audience, market appeal, royalties and contracts. Because, here? No tenure. Writing is my job. Yes, I have a day-job, but it doesn’t support me (day-jobs used to support one; it was the temptation of day-jobs; the tension. If you had a job that paid all your bills, and kept you in relative comfort, where was the drive to make your art — aside the art itself? Now day-jobs support the stockholders, who sow not, nor do they spin. But that’s another rant.); income from writing is what keeps this household. If I had to choose one income stream to dry up and blow away, it would be the day-job (speaking from a purely economic perspective, and absent its many other flaws); the writing more nearly supporting us.

Though — I dunno. Maybe I should sit back here, in my room with a very nice view, and cats, too — re-vision, rewrite and re-release Agent of Change? What would I do, exactly, to “amend” it?

Well. . .rewrite a whole lot of sentences. I know more about sentences now than I did when we wrote Agent.

On the other hand. . .Agent of Change has a helluva lot of energy, you notice? Wouldn’t want to lose that, and who knows if the gaumy sentences are part of what fuels that jazzy, off-center drive?

Nah, best not to mess with what’s written.

Besides, we have three new books under contract.

. . .and the weekend is just about over.

Tomorrow, there’s the day-job, then a doctor’s appointment for Steve, all served up over a “clear” day where the weatherbeans are calling a high temp of, oh, 5F/-15C.  Um. . .yeah.

*Note to Self:  Find flannel lined jeans tonight*

Today, there was a trip to the grocery store, a nap with the rice bag to get the damned kink out of my bad shoulder before it became a Problem, then laundry and some few words of writing.

The current project is “Intelligent Design,” a commissioned story.  There’s a fairly generous range involved — between 5,000 and 12,000 words, so I’m not sure where to set the high end of the meter.  I guess I’ll go with ten grand as a guestimate, with the understanding that the story may not take that much, or it might bump its head on the ceiling.

Now, I think I’d better go tend to the Needs of Felines, get packed up for the trek into the day-job tomorrow, and, oh — have some lunch.

Stay warm — or whatever constitutes comfort in your part of the world.

Progress on “Intelligent Design”
1,167 out of 10,000 words OR 11.67%

Yanno how you always wonder:  Is that light ahead of you in the tunnel the far end, or an oncoming train?  Steve and I are going to find out!

January 20-22, 2012, ChattaCon 37,  Chattanooga, Tennessee:  Writer Guests of Honor:  Sharon Lee and Steve Miller.  ChattaCon takes place at the historic Chattanooga Choo Choo hotel, a former train station.  This is one of our increasingly less-rare trips South, so mark you calendars!

More details as we have them.
Edited to add: The Compleat Guest List for ChattaCon 37:

Steve Miller and Sharon Lee – Writer Guests
Laura Ann Gilman – Writer Guest
John Picacio Artist GoH
Rachel Caine – Special Guest
Mark Van Name – Toastmaster

* * *

Lee and Miller will also be attending RenoVation, the 69th World Science Fiction Convention in Reno, Nevada, August 17-21, 2011.  Join us to celebrate the release of Ghost Ship!

Today is Theo Waitley’s birthday.  That’s right, on this date in 2007, the first chapter of Fledgling was posted on the interwebs.  I trust everyone has marked their calendars and have suitable celebrations planned.

Since that first, auspicious appearance, Theo has broadened her horizons considerably.  Not only has she pursued her dream of  becoming a courier pilot, but she has been published in ebook, hardback, and paperback by Baen, and hit various bestseller lists, including the Wall Street Journal Bestselling Science Fiction list.

As this is Theo’s fifth birthday, I’d say a little gentle embarrassment is in order.  How about this?  Let’s share our favorite memories of her in comments.

NOTE:  Those who have not read the books (Fledgling, and Saltation, that would be), please be aware that there may well be spoilers in comments, and click at your own risk.

So, everybody pull up a chair — no, wait!  I’m forgetting something.  Before we settle in, punch and cake in hand, to reminisce, let’s gather in a circle, join hands, and say the magic words:

Happy birthday, Theo!

It snowed today.  I don’t see an Official Announcement of how much it snowed today, so we’ll do a Quick ‘n Dirty:  From the sole of my boot to the snowline on my jeans, 15 inches.  That’s respectable.  Happily, it, too, is a light and fluffy snow, so the deck and the stairs were easily recoverable.  Unhappily, the plow-guy has not yet been by to do the drive.  Well, perhaps tomorrow.

For today, the bird feeders have been refilled, the cats are working in their various napping places, Steve made us salmon cakes for a late lunch, and now?  It’s time to seek out a late-ish dinner.

This weekend, Steve and I need to brainstorm the short story that’s under commission, but for tonight, I worked on George. I can now say with authority that Chapter 13 is completed — and a long time coming it was. Let us praise Chapter 13 for its patience, interrupted so many times and over so many days.

Progress on The Book Presently Known as George:
31,670 words/100,000 OR 31.67% complete

Syl Vor woke up so completely that he thought for a moment that he hadn’t been asleep at all. He must have been, though — for Thorn curled bonelessly under his chin, making the little half-snore, half-purr sound she only made when she was deeply asleep.

. . .being another in a series of dull titles.

So. . .Got up betimes and went out to shovel the snow that had fallen overnight — about an inch? Inch-and-a-half, maybe? Very fluffy. The moon was high in a dark, cloud-striped sky, keeping watch while I got the deck and the steps and the cars done.  Gloves wet and fingers frozen, I went back inside for coffee and day-job prep.

The rest of the day. . .went badly, I fear. The phrase “weeping with exhaustion — or possibly frustration –” comes to mind. I found that several of my faculty had determined not to “bother” the lady covering my office with various things, which they then wished me to take over, since I was back. Um, thanks for the vote of confidence, I guess.

Back home to pick up Hexapuma and ferry him back into town for a visit with his good friend Dr. Slack, then back to the Cat Farm, where I sat down with George and actually wrote a scant few hundred words. Feeling calmer now, and it’s time for lunch.

Winter storm watch tomorrow from 4 a.m. until 7 p.m., with a call for 4-7 inches. That’ll be fun.

Progress on The Book Presently Known as George:
30,758 words/100,000 OR 30.76% complete

“I think that it is a case,” he said slowly, “of bringing one’s heart and one’s thoughts into — into balance.” He winced then, as if his own words had nipped him.