Category: Blog

In which progress is made

I’ve been working.  Monday was one of those fragmented days where I couldn’t get my hours-together to focus, though I did some, um, deconstruction work on the third iteration of this novel, and realized that part of what was making things more difficult than they needed to be was the structure, and! for Extra Writer Bonus Points! if I restructured the third iteration, I could actually rescue words from the two iterations I had set aside.

Win!

So, yesterday morning, I pulled the chapter-by-chapter files for each of the three iterations (as I said on Facebook, thank ghod that the person who writes my books takes the time to keep a running chapter-by-chapter summary of each book-in-process.  They’re a huge help in identifying which chapters/scenes can be rescued and where they are.

Having identified the words which could be folded into the WIP with good effect, I spent the afternoon unbraiding the (very lightly braided) narrative threads of the third book, and cut-n-pasting the rescued scenes into the (hopefully) correct order.  That was a little harrowing, and in the end, I couldn’t rescue anywhere near 50,000 words.  I did, however, get 13,000 words in several nice, chewy scenes that will definitely improve the final story, so the work was worth doing.

This morning, I compiled the book in its Pretty New Structure, and printed it out.  Tomorrow, probably (since today is another chopped-up day), I’ll sit down with the compiled manuscript and do a continuity edit.  I’m feeling good about the new structure; and while I’m doubtless up for some Serious Work in building bridges, and switching scenes/viewpoints around so characters don’t know about certain events before they happen, that’s just — work.

Over on Facebook, someone commented that this novel had gotten very messy, which is certainly true.  There are a bunch of reasons for that.  Part of it’s depression, as I mentioned.  It’s hard to think when you’re (when I’m) depressed; especially, it’s hard to do the kind of free-flow, instinct-level thinking which is the Very Best Space from which to write a novel (IMHO).  Which means I’ve got to Figure Things Out by the Numbers, which is no fun, and I have to do it when I have the Stupids.

Another thing that played into this novel becoming quite so messy is —  given that there are a lot of choices open to us in terms of where to start, where to go, where to end, and who to include in the party, it stands to reason that no matter what we decide to do, someone(s) will be angry and disappointed, and therefore conclude that we can no longer write, and will feel compelled to tell us so, and. . .I really, really, really don’t right now have the spoons to deal with that.  Odds are good that I will have the spoons to deal with it once the book is in a position for people to be disappointed in it, but right now, that future Angry Reader is kinda hanging over my head like a machete.  I’m trying to ignore him/her/it/they, and write the story that’s true, which, some days, is easier said than done.

The result of all these choices and other situations is that we have three starts to this novel, two of which petered out at around 25,000 words (for a total of 50,000 words), including  about — eh?  20,000 words? — detailing the adventures of a group of characters who (among all the characters who do) Don’t Actually Belong in this book.  It’s not Bad Stuff, it just doesn’t belong in *this* book, and is being preserved (as writers do) against the future book in which they do belong.

We’ve written messy books in the past (by which I mean, we wrote them messily.  I have. . .perhaps fond isn’t the word I want. . .memories of laying all the chapters of Conflict of Honors out on the living room floor and literally cutting pages apart and Scotch-taping the scenes together, until we had a novel that Actually Made Sense), but this is the messiest I’ve been lead on in a long time.  Of course, I was off writing Carousel books for a little while there, which are, compared to the Liaden books, really pretty straightforward.

. . . and that’s where we stand

For those playing along at home, we’re +/- 46,000 words into a firm draft of a book that is obstinately remaining nameless, and construction is continuing, with deliberation.

In other news — Tomorrow is the first day of Spring!  . . .and the weather predictions for us here in Central Maine is for one to three inches of snow tonight.

 

Sunday To-Do, With Commentary

1.  Coon cat grooming
2.  Clean cat boxes
3.  Clean humidifier
4.  Do dishes
5.  Write a novel

I don’t actually think I’ll accomplish Number 5 today, but I need a buncha hours in a row, which, with One Thing and Another Thing and That Other Thing* Too, I haven’t been getting.  In general, I’m not a believer in Ivory Towers, but if I could rent one for a couple weeks, along with the Invisible Staff, including the Staffer whose sole job is to answer annoying — and even non-annoying — emails politely — I’d be there in a heartbeat.

Lacking that, it looks like Tuesdays and Thursdays and Saturdays are going to have to get blocked out as Compleat Writing Days, and One Thing and Another Thing are just going to have to Go Fish.

One of the things I do in the morning, after Mozart has been Served Breakfast, is that I’ll play string with the kids.  Sprite especially enjoys the play, and, if I’ve somehow forgotten, she will pursue me around the house, dragging the string and exclaiming until I Make It Work.  Trooper’s willing to play if play is on the table, but he doesn’t like to make a fuss.

This morning, after play, and after Mozart had finished with breakfast, Sprite was still demanding more! string!  So I knelt down on the floor on my elbows and my knees, and put one hand on the string.  She blinked, backed up, and meebled at Trooper.  Who sighed, and hooted what I assume was, “Oh, all right, let me look at it.”  And came over to sniff my hair, and my hand, and the string. . .

. . .and then laid down across from me, and put his paw on the string.

I squinted my eyes at him; he squinted his eyes at me.  Sprite meebled, pushed against Trooper; he hooted.  She meebled again, and he sighed.  Veeeerrrrrry slowly, she skooched down next to him, put her paw tentatively on the string, and huffed her little hello huff.

And there we all sat for a few minutes, communing with the string and each other.

So, that was nice.

Hope everyone is having a pleasant Sunday.

______
*Frequent readers of this blog will have noticed that I’m one of those folks who has mood swings, of which, in case there is any doubt, the High is much preferred to the Low.  Unfortunately at the moment, I’m stuck in a pretty low Low, which it took some time to identify, because (in my experience, at least) depression hurts, and this thing right here. . .doesn’t, though it has all the other trimmings, in spades, including the Stupids.  What this means for y’all is that I’m going to be somewhat scarce — see the proposed Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday schedule, and if an Ivory Tower rental comes up, I’m there — because life and contracts go on, and if it’s going take me four times longer to write a book than normal, because I’ve got to piece in every damn word, then I’d better lean in hard.

So, that.  Thank you for your understanding.

 

And she survived but now she’s gone forever

1.  Today’s Baen Free Radio Hour features an interview with Dave Seeley, and! an audiocast of my short story “The Gift of Music.”  Here’s your link.

2.  This link takes you to a page featuring thumbnails of various pieces of art by Anne Lemanski. OPHIOPHOBES TAKE NOTE: There are snakes involved. They’re quite attractive snakes, and they’re made out of copper and paper, but snakes they are.  Here’s your link.

3.  Waterville area folks — Dragon Egg Hunt in preparation for the Waterville Opera House presentation of SHREK.  Here’s that link.

4.  The Hugo Nomination Period ends on March 31.  If you were a member of last year’s WorldCon, in San Antonio; if you’re a member of this year’s WorldCon, in London; if you’re a member of next year’s WorldCon, in Spokane, you are eligible to nominate for the Hugos.  Here’s the link to the rules.  On the left hand side of that page, you’ll find links to the 2014 nomination form and the Retro Hugo nomination form, and instructions for the whole batch.

4a.  Lee and Miller have several works eligible for nomination.  They are:
Novels:  Necessity’s Child, Trade Secret
Novelettes:  Eleutherios, Moon’s Honor
Short Story:  Out of True

5.  Between Wednesday and Thursday here in Central Maine, we had a Lot of Snow.  (oh, OK; somewhere between 10.5 and 15 inches, it says here.)  I can’t find any official numbers, so we’ll just leave it there.  Today is sunny and cold.  Tomorrow, we have an ice storm on the schedule.

Winter can get over itself Any Time Now.

Today’s blog post title comes from “Steel River,” by Chris Rea.  Here’s a link.  Warning:  This is a song that always makes me cry, so possibly NSFW.

 

 

In which Rolanni is cranky

So, over here at Tor.com, there are at this writing 19 reviews and one interview on display on the first page.  Three of those 19 reviews are for Baen books; the rest by Publishers Divers.

The three Baen books under review are:  Cauldron of Ghosts, by Weber and Flint, The Sea Without a Shore, by David Drake, and Carousel Sun, by Sharon Lee.

There’s a reason I’m telling you this.

Of the  three Baen books reviewed, two are held up and mocked for their covers, before the review is even engaged.  Full disclosure:  One of those is Carousel Sun, which has a rooster on the cover. Which is apparently hilarious.  Especially since, yanno, there’s a rooster in the book.  The other book so mocked is Cauldron of Ghosts.  David Drake’s book, I am actually relieved to report, received a respectful and affectionate review, with no mention of the cover.

Now, ‘way back before the rocks cooled, I reviewed professionally.  And what I reviewed was the stuff between the covers —  the story arc, the characters, the structure, the theme.   The cover was understood to be a sales piece, and I, the reviewer, was understood not to be an artist, an art reviewer, or an art director.  The only time I might mention the cover would be to point out that the author’s name was spelled wrong.

While I do very much understand that Baen covers are considered highly mockable in the wider SF community, I question that mocking when it appears on the site of a competitor, and when the only two covers mentioned at all are Baen covers.  This strikes me as dishonest at best, and agenda-driven at worst.

Back in the day, had I suddenly made it my mandate to include cover art in my reviews, I would have reviewed all the covers, in order to provide my readers with a balanced opinion of all the books.  Because that was, after all, my job.

 

 

 

Progress and not-so report

So, Illisidi is not yet perfect, but hopefully workable.  The one biggest concern remains an outflowing of error messages the first time I open any file in LibreOffice.  Once past the error messages, though, I can open files with impunity, and they seem not to be changing into oak leaves in the morning, so I guess I’m going to have to put up with what I can’t fix.  Certainly, I’m very tired, at this point, of uninstalling and reinstalling LibreOffice, and a writer must write with something.

Fans of Mozart will wish to hear that he has good days and bad days.  He’s a fan, currently, of Friskies gravy lovers with a liberal handful of Fancy Feast dry food on top, like jimmies.  He eats the crunchies and licks up the gravy.  If  I could figure out a way to just put gravy over crunchies, I’d do that, but I’m afraid of feeding him the salt bomb that is canned gravy meant for consumption by Thumbs.

Fans of Sprite will wish to know that, for all her giddy ways, she takes her royal duties seriously.  The other day, Mozart suddenly gave out with the Kitty in Trouble yell, from the living room.  I got up to see what the problem was, to find that Sprite had arrived ahead of me and was vigorously washing his ears (See there, Grandpa? Everybody feels better when they have clean ears.), which really did seem to solve the problem/break the cycle of distress.

In other news, today is Monday, which, being as I’m a freelance, shouldn’t matter, but somehow does.  Perhaps because I was woken up by a nightmare, and took some time to settle again.  Perhaps because it’s a greyish morning, and we’re under threat of Snowpocalypse.  Again.

Whatever.

In a few minutes, I’ll head out to town, errands, and the gym, and this afternoon, it’s back to work.

How’s the start of your week going?

 

In which the Aiji-Dowager arrives

So, the Win7 machine is up and running.  I still haven’t solved the HDMI conundrum; but I have all of my files, and, after a little bit of noodling ’round the web, all of my programs, including my Firefox bookmarks.  Ten years’ of old wires have been (by Steve’s good offices) cleaned out from beneath my desk and the old Oki printer has been cleared off the top of my desk, thereby opening Vistas Untold.

So, yanno; It’s All Good.

Advertent readers will have noticed that the new computer’s name is Illisidi; in part due to the fact that she is smaller, lighter, and much more powerful than Jack the Giant Killer.  And if you have No Clue who Illisidi, the Aiji-Dowager is, start here and go through to here.  You can thank me later.

Next up, is the re-ordering of my office, which had to be Completely Torn Apart in order to swap out the computers, and do all the rest of the things that needed doing.  After that, it’s date night, and a fitting end of a week that was, um, more vigorous than predicted.

Hope everybody is having a lovely Saturday.

 

Today, we migrate

Today, I’m shifting virtual house from Jack the Giant Killer, to the newly arrived Windows7 machine, at present nameless.  This means that I will not much be around the internets today.

Everybody wish me luck for a smooth and easy migration.

I’m going in.

Cabin fever

Here at the Cat Farm, it has been a Week of Parts.

We had the exploding computer part, and the going to the dentist part, and the Steve’s eye exam has been rescheduled for the third time since January part, and the delivery of various boxes of used books from geographically distant parts of the country part, and the arrival this morning of a bitchy headache, of which I Do Not Approve, and the arrival of the Win7 machine, of which I Do Approve, at least in theory, since I’m not going to undertake to transfer programs and files from one computer to another computer while I have a headache.

Into this week of Parts have come emails — two, one from Kimpton Hotels, and one from Starwood — tempting me to take a winter break.  Surprisingly, I find myself most tempted by Kimpton, which offers me a quirky Kimpton-y room in a hotel built inside of an historic building in downtown Philly, walking distance to museums and The Shopping.  It’s been a long, long time since I just hung out at a museum for a day, never mind a couple of museums over three days.  It would, my brain says, Be Nice.

Mind you, it’s still winter in Philadelphia, too — in fact, at last report, Philadelphia was having more winter than we here in Central Maine are currently enjoying — and I’m not a fan of walking in the slush and the wind be it city or country — but the idea of a little museum-touring mini-vacation is. . .awfully attractive.

So, if you could drop everything and take a winter break — where would you go, and what would you do?

In which Rolanni goes to the dentist

I went to the dentist this morning.  This is monumental, because as a rule, I Don’t Do Dentists.  However, I promised Steve that I would go for a checkup and a cleaning, and I made the appointment, for March 17, and told the office that the only way this would work was if there was valium, which the dentist prescribed, so I had it on hand when the call came in yesterday, saying that they had a cancellation and could I come in this morning at 7:30.  Steve being willing to act as driver, I agreed.

Mostly it went OK, though I made a tactical error in not fetching along a teddy bear or other stuffie, and so had to borrow the House Wolf.  You’ve gotta give points to a dentist’s office that has a stuffed wolf on-call.

The good news is, no cavities.  The bad news is a low-grade infection, which I sorta knew, but was ignoring, also, there are a couple teeth that need to be capped, because I’ve dern near ground them down to nothing.  So — another appointment in four months to take care of business and I will be taking a bear along.

This is the point where you wonder why the heck I’m telling you this stuff, and this is why. . .

Over the course of my life I’ve lost at least six friends and colleagues to complications of dental issues; cases of that low-grade infection that was just ignored, or higher-grade problems that needed Serious Money to fix, when there wasn’t even Non-Serious Money in the checkbook, so it was just let go, for a while, and a while longer — until it had gone too far.

Dentists are expensive, dentists are scary, but seriously people, take care of your teeth.  If you Don’t Do Dentists, figure out what you need to do to make the experience liveable.  Valium, music and earphones, stuffed animal, a friend to sit next to the chair and hold your hand — whatever it takes, right?

Promise me.

 

 

I can saw a woman in two, but you won’t want to look in the box when I’m through

So, Steve took Jack the Giant Killer into the shop this morning while I ran errands in the opposite direction, and went to gym, too!  Presently, I’m working on Number Ten Ox, who has been wired up with the funny keyboard and the trackball.  We have only just located the HDMI wire, so later this afternoon, I’ll have a Big Screen to work from, too.

What with one thing and another, I got zero writing done yesterday.  Hoping very much to do better today.  For those playing along at home, the manuscript now stands at 33,194 words in this iteration, which seems likely to stick.   And the next time I run into the Backroom Boys, I’m gonna beat their punkinhaids.  Just sayin’.

Though I didn’t get any actual writing done yesterday, I did get a the Sunday chores done, including the Brushing of the Coon Cats.

This chore is enlivened by the fact that each of the Coon Cats has a different approach to being groomed.

Mozart takes the What Fresh Hell is This? approach, which includes writhing away from the brush as if it were on fire, swearing loudly, and screaming that a murder is being done and won’t anyone help him!  He swears, in his high, squeaky voice, the entire time his claws are being clipped, folds his ears down so they can’t be cleaned, and will have nothing to do with the anti-static towel that smells like flowers.

Trooper, on the other hand, Understands that the Thumbs wish to groom him.  After, all he is magnificent, as Trooper is the first to admit.  He allows the brush and the comb with an air of regal complacency, is testy, but calm during the manicure, and resigned in the matter of the ears.  He graciously declines the smelly towel.

Sprite. . .loves the whole process.  She adores being brushed, purrs while she’s combed, puts her paw forward to be clipped — I honestly think she’d let me paint her claws for her.  She eeks! if I forget to clean her ears, and can think of no better end to her spa experience than to be stroked with a towel that will make her smell like a flower.

I’m thinking of pairing her with Mozart so he can see how it’s done, but I’m afraid he’ll teach her Bad Language.

The plan for the rest of the day is eat lunch, write, wait for the tech to call with news of Jack’s condition.

How’s Monday treating you?

 

*Today’s title comes from Warren Zevon, “For my next trick, I’ll need a volunteer.”  Here’s a link.