Category: Blog

Quick check-in

Yes, the Blizzard of Historic Proportions has reached the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.  The snow is not heavy and wet, but light and fluffy.  This is a point in its favor.  However, it is SO light and fluffy, and the winds so fierce and steady, that it’s impossible to tell how much snow has actually fallen.  I’ve shoveled out the escape route twice — the first time, it was less than two inches on the (covered) deck, and up to my knees at the bottom of the stairs.  The second time, it looked to be about five inches on the deck and the snow at the bottom of the stairs was well above my knees.  In a couple minutes, I’ll be going out again, but a quick look at the deck reveals a depth of about five inches, so I’m sorta treading (frozen) water, here.

The just-in report from the Maine Weather Service tells us that we’re going to be experiencing Blizzard Conditions until 4 a.m.  In the meantime, the winds, which have been relentless, are going to be increasing in intensity.  I see that Manticus Rock, my Favorite Weather Station EVER, reported winds of 67 mph at noontime.  Of course, Manticus Rock is 23 miles into Penobscot Bay, where conditions are a mite rugged.  Here in land-locked East Winslow, the strongest wind measured so far is a measly 30 miles an hour.  Temps are 12F/-11C, with a windchill of -10F/-23C.

Nippy, ayuh.

In other good news, the power’s been steady as she goes.

I had planned on getting lots of  writing done, but the shoveling kind of takes it out of me, and I hadn’t exactly figured a two-hour nap into the day.  We shall see.

. . .and that? Was the bell reminding me that it’s time to go clear blizzard off the deck and the outside stairs.

How are conditions where you are?

Lukey’s boat is painted green, ah, me boys

While we’re waiting for Snowpocalypse — 20 total inches now predicted, and!  11 more on Friday, from Another, Completely Unrelated storm — While, I say, we’re waiting for the snow to fall, I should perhaps point you to Eating Authors, a series of blog posts hosted by Lawrence Schoen, in which diverse writers talk about their best meal ever.  Today’s guest is. . .

. . .why, it’s me.

Here’s your link.

While I’m doing the promotion thing, please allow me to ask you, if you’ve read. . .any of the Carousel books, really, but most notably Carousel Seas, please consider leaving a reader review on BN, Amazon, Goodreads, your blog, or wherever you talk about books with your friends.  Thank you.

Today, as we wait for Snowpocalypse (see above), it’s bright and sunny – and very, very cold.  The warmest the car’s on-board thermometer would own to, on my drive into town, was 12F/-11C, with a stiff wind bringing that right down to 0F/-18C.  The Shaws on KMD was. . .not particularly busy when I stopped to pick up bottled water, but the KMD Hannaford, where I stopped to pick up items not available at Shaws, Was. A. Freaking. Zoo.  Whole shelves were empty.  There wasn’t a banana in the store, unless it was already in somebody’s basket, the wine section had been stripped, and the bread section; there were no muffins in the bakery section.

. . .this is going to be a Strange Snowstorm, isn’t it?

While I was in town, Steve, who was catching up the laundry at home, was treated to a pre-blizzard power outage.  Hoping that wasn’t Central Maine Power, helpfully giving us a practice run.

For the rest of the day, there is laundry, and making sure the dishes are caught up, and, yanno — writing.

And!  A question for East Coast peeps:  Has it started snowing where you are, yet?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Great Big Sea, Lukey’s Boat.  Here’s your link.

Everybody talks about the weather

We here at the Cat Farm and the Confusion Factory currently rejoice in a Blizzard Warning.  The weatherbeans predict that between 8 and 24 inches of heavy snow will fall on us, depending on where the boundaries of Central Maine lie this time, and which way the — 50 mile-per-hour — winds blow.

The weatherbeans are being more than a little excited about this, using words that sound like “Potentially Historic Blizzard Taking Aim on New England” — which is all right for them, but I already have the merit badge for Surviving an Historic Winter Weather Event in New England.  I didn’t think there was going to be a re-do.

In any case, the Things are charging, and I’m considering how I’m going to handle large amounts of wet snow that’s mostly scheduled to fall overnight.  On the one hand, I’m not up for moving 24 inches of wet snow in one go.  On the other hand, I don’t think going out every couple hours on the overnight is a smart move, either.  Especially with that wind.  I may need to throw myself on the mercy of the plow guy, which I hate to do.  On the gripping hand, the plow guy is a strapping young feller, and I’m, err, not.

At least we don’t have to be anywhere in particular over the next couple days, and we have plenty of food and cat litter.

In other news, I’ve been writing,  not — as usual — as fast as I want to be writing, but things are moving in a forwarder direction, so I’m not going to complain.  Much.

Steve and I have been watching the second season of Columbo, in a casual fashion.  It strikes me that I may not have quite. . .appreciated Lt. Columbo’s. . .art, back when I was 18.  I’ll be talking about this a little more, I think, after I’ve considered some more.

Everybody stay safe, and warm, and dry.

* * *

Progress on Alliance of Equals
42,199/100,000 OR 42.4% COMPLETE

“Two Standard days from now this bridge will be full up with big, stubborn woman, who’ll be wanting to talk to her captain, stat.”

Lee and Miller Hugo Eligible Works 2014

The nice folks at SasQuan have just reminded me that Award Season has opened and that it’s time for those who wish to do so to nominate works for the Hugo Awards ballot (more information here).

Below is a list of our eligible works, with links to those that are available for reading on the web, followed by some auctorial commentary.

Works are listed in this format:

TITLE, MONTH OF PUBLICATION, VENUE, WORD COUNT, CATEGORY

Everybody ready?

Here you are:

The author known as Sharon Lee and Steve Miller published three eligible works in 2014.

The Rifle’s First Wife, January, Splinter Universe, 13,350, novelette   |LINK TO STORY|

Roving Gambler, April, Splinter Universe, 15,432, novelette   |LINK TO STORY|

Code of Honor, May, Splinter Universe, 10,805, novelette  |LINK TO STORY|

(PLEASE NOTE:  2014 was a year in which no new Liaden book was published.  Yes, the mass market editions of Necessity’s Child and Trade Secret came out in 2014, but those editions are reprints.  When in doubt, check the copyright page of the book in question.)

The author known as Sharon Lee published three eligible works in 2014.

The Gift of Music, January, Baen.com, 5,048, short story    |LINK TO STORY|

Carousel Sun, February, Baen, 104,000, novel   |SAMPLE CHAPTERS|

The Night Don’t Seem So Lonely, December, Baen.com, 8,334, novelette   |LINK TO STORY|

Auctorial Commentary

Last Award Season was. . .exceptionally acrimonious.  Somewhere within the general hootenanny and rending of garments, there stirred to life a relatively small, little scoldy thingy which was trying to become a Rule, to wit: That authors ought only to bring forward those works they had published in the previous year that were worthy.

This is bullshit, and I will tell you why.

The Hugo Awards are a readers award.  That means that the readers decide which works are “worthy.”  How do they do that?  By reading the works published in the previous year and deciding which one(s) they liked best.  You may say that no one can read all the works published in the previous year.  I would say that you are right, but nonetheless, it is not the job of authors to predigest their work for you.

For one thing, authors are, historically, lousy at picking their own best works.  That’s because we created the work.  I can’t “read” my work.  I can analyze it; I can deconstruct it; but in the end, I, the creator, am not the audience for my work.

Do I have favorites among those works we published last year?  Yes.  Yes, I do.  Steve has favorites, too.  And you know what?  They’re not the same.  And the reasons that Stories X and Y are favorites?  Have nothing to do with the “worthiness” of those stories in terms of consideration for a reader’s award.

I’ll end with an anecdote.  Back in nineteen-aught-eighty-one, I wrote a story titled “Master of the Winds.”  It was a young story, even for that early stage of my career.  It was never anything but  journeyman work.

And yet?

Fifteen years into the following century, thirty-four years after it was written, I still, once or even twice a year receive an email from a reader who will cite “Master of Winds” as one of their favorite stories ever.

If that’s so — and why would they say so, if it wasn’t? — then who on earth am I to tell them they’re wrong?

Oh, one more thing.  Last year, another scoldy little thingy arose from the group discussion, and tried its damnedest to grow up into a Rule.  That one was: It is Unseemly for Women Talk About their Award Eligible Works.

That’s bullshit, too.  I’ll leave it to you to figure out why.

 

 

 

Yesterday, the sun was shining

Yesterday, it was sunny and bright and cold, naturally.

We were early on the road, and accomplished a few errands — stopping at the post office to mail a package, picking up the framed art for Dragon in Exile (which looks Even. More. Awesome.), doing the banking — before landing at the dentist’s office for my appointment.  I am inordinately proud to report that I accomplished this without the use of valium or happy-drugs of any kind.  Nor did I murder the technician, who had the foresight to squirt my gums and teeth with a fast-acting numbing agent, so I could relax (for values of relaxing) in the knowledge that no way was this going to hurt.

Win-win-win.

After the dentist, since it was, as reported sunny, and because neither of us has been ANYwhere save the grocery store, the pharmacy, and the doctor since we got home from PhilCon. . .we went for a ride.  It was soooooo clear that we went All the Way Out to Madison, just so we could take the high ridge road and look out over the mountains of Maine and of Far New Hampshire, some of them wearing snow caps, and all of them magnificent against the day-sky.

We made the choice, when the ridge road disappeared at Route 201, to turn right, back toward Skowhegan and civilization, rather than follow the sun out to Solon and Jackman, and be obliged to drive home in the dark.

On the way home, we stopped for lunch at the Flatlanda Restaurant, in Fairfield.  I have liver and onions, Steve had lemon-crusted haddock; both meals were good, and plenty too much.  I brought half of mine home.  Tangentially, Trooper informs me that Maine Coon Cats are Very Partial to liver.

Last night, I opened Chapter 12 of Alliance of Equals and added 335 words.  Theses would be the first 335 new words I’ve added to this manuscript for seven weeks, so I’m calling Progress.  Today, I hope for more.

Today is another day like yesterday:  sunny, blue, and cold, but I’m scheduled to stay in with my to-do list to hand.  On the schedule, in addition to writing this blog post, and writing, is the Grooming of the Coon Cats (Scrabble only allows Steve to groom her).

What’s on your to-do list today?

* * *

Progress on Alliance of Equals
40,803/100,000 OR 40.8% COMPLETE

There had been doors. He remembered the old wooden door; the main door into Jelaza Kazone; the tree-and-dragon worn smooth by the palms of countless homecoming Korval pilots.

The state of the Rolanni

The second round of antibiotics will be done on Sunday, whereupon I will be cured.

So, I decree, and so shall it be.

(Betting pool is now open:  Am I the Empress of the Universe, or am I not?)

Things — THINGS — that had been let to slide are slowly getting caught up.  For instance, while we were ill, any-and-everything that wasn’t A-List (by which I mean — business, bill paying, cat caring), and wasn’t clearly Z-List (adverts from the Dish Network, solicitations for new credit cards, life insurance pitches, &c) got set aside in a pile — PILE.  The PILE had reached rather alarming proportions by the time either one of us was feeling well enough to cope, and the first idea was — let’s just swoop all of that stuff right into the trash.

Well, on the day that plan occurred, there wasn’t enough energy between us to implement it, which was probably a good thing.  The second plan — which we are calling Plan B — is to go through a few things every day and so winnow the PILE down responsibly, in case there should actually be something that was, oh B, or even C-List and needed personal attention.

So, that’s what we’ve been doing there.

We’ve also been slowly catching up on non-A-List housekeeping, and laundry and whatnot.  Today, I vacuumed the house, chopped up onions for freezing, finished up the laundry, did the dishes (note to self: teach Boopsie the Wise to do dishes).

Also, over the last week or so, I’ve been communing with Alliance of Equals, and all the leftover notes from the previous book, handling things, reading (but not editing), and just slowly sinking back into the story and the characters, after our long separation.

I’m feeling confident that I am now well enough, and well enough in tune with the story, to start adding new material without breaking anything.  There are, thank ghod, nice, clear hooks set in — In that regard, at least, this is no Dragon in Exile.

And, yes, I am still bitter that we had to ask for an extension on this one.  It had all been going together so nicely. . .

Well.

Tomorrow morning, I have a dentist appointment, and some errands to run.  Tomorrow evening, I intend to open a new file in Alliance, and get writing.

Also, sometime soon, but probably not until after the antibiotics are finished, and I’ve given the cough time to come back, if it’s gonna — I need to find a new gym, and also a group, or a book club, or a volunteer gig (though not, I think, at the hospital) to add into the schedule.

And that?  Is all I’ve got.

How’s the new year treating you guys?

Eye Candy, with a twist

I have been remiss in letting y’all know of a wonderful present created for you — yes, you! — by David Mattingly, in concert with Toni Weisskopf, Madame the Publisher, of Baen Books.

David, of course, has painted six brilliant Liaden Universe® covers: Saltation, Mouse and Dragon, Ghost Ship, Dragon Ship, Necessity’s Child, and Dragon in Exile.  We admire his work greatly, but with this time, he’s outdone himself.

Without further ado, then, we offer you the animated version of the cover for Dragon in Exile, an effort that has variously been described as wonderful, terrifying, cheesy, fabulous, frisking weird, annoying, awesome, great, and stunning.

What do you think?  Take a look and let me know.

Ruminations on the current herd of coon cats

Mozart was our first Maine coon cat, and he came to us courtesy of Kathy Robinson of Kennebec Cattery, which is not, as you might suppose, in Maine, but in Pittsburgh.  He was born in March of 1998 and came to live with us in November of 2003, after his first situation proved less than ideal.

Kodi and Nicky had both died earlier in 2003, leaving us with Hypatia — a grey-and-white “barn cat” — and Max! — a cafe au lait masked wonder.  Mozart came to us in early November, and two weeks later, we also brought Scrabble on-board direct from her temp placement at Animal House Pet Supply.

Mozart was the only Maine coon in the house, and he was Rather Shy.  He and Scrabble buddied up for a while, being the new kids, but as Attrition Happened, Scrabble asserted herself, while Mozart remained somewhat reserved, though affectionate and interested in the projects of His People, assisting with the writing, and reading, of numerous books.

In mid-2005, we found ourselves running a household with only two cats.  We thought we’d add a third, and we thought we’d get another Maine coon.

We brought Dulsey on-board, but she couldn’t find a place within the Mozart/Scrabble dynamic, and eventually moved on to her forever home.

In 2008, we brought Hexapuma into the team.  He of course immediately fell under Scrabble’s spell, agreed that she was, indeed, The Most Qualified to Run Everything, and left her to it.  He would sleep near and with Mozart, and occasionally invited him to play.  Mozart seemed to ignore him, mostly, but obviously missed him terribly, as did we all, when he died.

When Socks came to us, in 2012, Mozart paid more overt attention to him, perhaps at first thinking that he might be Hex.  He would occasionally cuddle up with Socks, and it might have been that they would have become big, sloppy, cat buddies, but Socks was barely with us a year before he succumbed to cancer.

Which brings us to the New Kids in Town.  We adopted Trooper from Kelimcoons in New Hampshire in June, 2013, specifically as a companion to Mozart, who was clearly feeling the loss of Socks.

Predictably, I guess, Mozart ignored Trooper, who wasn’t grey, and who very much wasn’t Socks.  Trooper, who had come from a house full of cats, and who had been on the show circuit, continued to make overtures, to sleep with the old guy — by now, Mozart was 15 years old — and to try to tempt him to play.  We pretty quickly saw the difference between 15 and 4, and in November, 2013, we brought Trooper’s daughter, Sprite, up to Maine.

Sprite and Trooper bonded immediately; they shared a common vocabulary (do not laugh; Maine coons TALK, and while Sprite has a lot more to say about stuff than Trooper does, it’s perfectly obvious that they have conversations and consult with each other); they shared a common house culture, and an understanding about How We Cats Go On.

Maine coon females are billed as the shyer sex; however, there is a certain Mom Cat Foo that trumps. . .almost everything.  Sprite immediately took Mozart in paw, cleaning his ears, snuggling next to him to nap, cleaning him up, and seeking him out to just check in several times a day.  Mozart gradually came to the point where he’ll lick her cheek when they meet, and will occasionally bury his face in her fur, because apparently all that multi-colored fluff smells Really Nice.

He’s a little more conflicted regarding Trooper.  I can see this.  Mozart, who will be 17 on March 1, is a shadow of his former self, and even in his prime was a smaller cat then Trooper, who is tall and muscular — a working athlete.  Trooper, however, puts up with the occasional swat in the face with patience, and insists that a guy needs another guy to snuggle against, and to watch things with, and occasionally to do his ears for him.  And Mozart mostly accepts that.

It’s been really interesting, watching the two New Kids maneuver Mozart into their Coon Circle, insisting, gently, but consistently, that, no, we do not sleep on the blanket by ourself; we share the blanket — and the person reading under the blanket, if any.  We stop and chat with each other when we meet in the hall; we eat together; we sleep on the humans at bedtime, all of us; there’s plenty of room.

So, in all, I think we did the right thing, bringing the New Kids in; and that Mozart is having as peaceful an old age as anyone can, surrounded by his grandcats.

Mozart
Mozart
Sprite
Sprite
Trooper
Trooper
Scrabble
Scrabble