The Writing Life – Page 2 – Sharon Lee, Writer

From the mail bag

So! Yesterday was quite a banner day for Liaden Universe® appreciations.

There was Ryk Spoor’s guest column, here.

And there was also a column on Giant Freaking Robot, by Joshua Tyler, here.

Both are largely positive takes on the universe, and I encourage you to read them and share them, perhaps, with your friends who have yet to discover All Things Liaden.

Despite being largely positive, Mr. Tyler’s piece contains a sentence which has . . . horrified, concerned, and angered some Liaden readers and fans, and thus I find letters in my mailbox. This blog post is a blanket reply to those letters, and statements of concern.

Mr. Tyler states: “Sadly, Liaden co-author Steve Miller died suddenly on February 20, 2024. He was 73. It’s unclear if Sharon will continue writing the series without him. As a fan of the series, I hope not.” (bolding is mine)

Now, whether this is opinion or corrigendum, I can’t tell you. I am not the author of the piece. In general, it’s wise to assume that what the author wrote is what the author meant, and Mr. Tyler is, as we all are, entitled to his opinion.

What I can say is this: There are three Liaden Universe® novels now under contract with Baen Books. I am currently lead on one of those, the sequel to Ribbon Dance. In addition, before Steve’s death and the attendant dis- and re-organizations engendered by that cataclysm, I was making notes for the sequel to the sequel. Steve was lead on Trade Lanes, which had become increasingly difficult for him as his heart slowly failed him. I may or may not be able, eventually, to finish Trade Lanes. If not, another Liaden book will fill the third slot.

So, for the moment, Mr. Tyler must reside in disappointment. Sharon will be continuing the series, but, not, as he supposes, “without” Steve.

The fact is that there would be no Liaden Universe® as we’ve all come to know it, without Steve’s input, genius, and wit. He’s as much of the warp and weft of the Universe as the Tree, the Dragon, and the stars.

Summing up, and realizing that there are no guarantees, it is my intention to continue to write Liaden books and Liaden stories. New titles will be published as by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller, because that will be nothing more nor less than the truth.

Saturday check-in

So, in-between remembering to promote our work, and taking care of the cats, and writing less than I would like but more than one colleague has assured me is possible, I’ve been putting Steve’s papers into boxes for eventual shipment to the archive at Texas A&M.

This means that I’ve been reading old letters, and poetry, and notes about what’s for supper; submission letters and rejections. And there’s this whole long … thread, let’s call it, around a story called “The One About Dancing,” which I remember in concept, but not in any detail. It seems that it started as a Notion that Steve had that stalled. I then had Notion and it got kickstarted, and we tried to sell the hell outta that story. We sent it to Amazing, we sent it to Owlflight, then at last to Spectrum SF.

Paul ____ at Spectrum . . . wasn’t particularly encouraging. He wanted extensive edits, which Steve was game to take on. My name was on the story for a while, as co-author, but I removed it after Steve starting working with Paul on revisions. He was doing the bulk of the work there, because I probably had a day-job, and I didn’t feel that I was contributing enough to the emerging work to be listed as a coauthor.

So, anyway, Paul finally declared the revised Tanj (the name of the main character was Jobber Tanj, and we referred to the story as “Tanj”), and I quote “Wow!” His last letter is about the concept art, and a request for a follow-up Tanj story.

Then . . . nothing.

I assume Spectrum went out of business. I don’t remember, honestly. Nineteen-eighty-two was a long time ago. I did a quick ‘n dirty websearch, and can’t find any info. It’s as if it never existed, except that I Have This File.

Aside the Mystery of the Disappearing Market, what struck me about the Tanj thread is how . . . friendly and helpful the editors — Elinor, Millea, Paul — were. Even the rejection letters for other stories were cordial and tried to pinpoint what didn’t work. Even given that sometimes what didn’t work was what we considered to be the Point of the story, that was . . . extraordinarily generous.

So, there’s that.

In other news, it looks as if Maine has entered True Spring, with the daytime highs regularly hitting the high 50s/low 60s (F) and the nighttime lows staying above freezing.

A couple of folks have asked if I’ll be at BaltiCon, and the answer, sadly, is no. I really don’t expect to be attending any cons for the foreseeable. I miss you all, but — no. Or at the very least — not yet.

And I think that more-or-less catches us all up.

Oh, wait. Here’s a picture of Firefly in her space capsule, which conveyed her to her annual wellness appointment with the vet yesterday. She was declared to be both gorgeous and healthy.

Smol Updatery

The WIPnovel broke 50,000 words last night, by a slim margin of 4 words.

This is, by the Letter of the Contract, Half A Book (not to be confused with Half a Bee). For those coming in late, the Contract stipulates “a Liaden novel, of at least 100,000 words.” In Reality, the three most recent novels — Fair Trade, Salvage Right, and Ribbon Dance — have all been in the +/-130,000 range. So! We’ll see what happens with WIPnovel.

I wish to note for the record, if there is one, that it is not raining today — it is sunny and warming — and that there’s a blue jay in the back yard swearing his fool head off.

Keeping on keeping on

So! What on earth has the woman been doing?

Sorting through photographs, and Steve’s papers, and making some decisions thereby. Fanac.org was kind enough to take the box of fanzines I gathered, and will be digitizing and putting them on the site as time and volunteers allow.

Steve’s papers include some correspondence with interesting people in the field, and a file drawer of handwritten, unpublished poetry. Steve had been a traveling poet before I knew him, and he wrote poems like you and I doodle. By contrast, his fiction is — surprisingly sparse, mostly seeming to be many iterations of the same five or six stories, along with a couple that I dimly recall seeing, that had apparently been pitched in a box in frustration after gathering too many rejections.

The majority of what he left, though, are photographs. Steve was very rarely without a camera, and thus I am left with many (unsorted) glimpses of cats, daily life, cats, moments from the Liaden Universe® World Tour, time spent with the Friends of Liad, cats, and, err, me, along with pictures of us, and pictures of Steve, because he insisted that I have a camera, too, that being one of the markers of a civilized person to him, though I was never as prolific on film as he was. Oh, and pictures of cats.

Because of a combination of things — the sparseness of his papers, the convention badges and program books that I had no idea what to do with, the proliferation of personal letters, cards, and photographs, gave me the idea of making what I first conceived of as “a scrapbook,” but which will probably be three, or four, scrapbooks by the time I’m done. I’m thinking that there will be narrative, written by me, because the pictures are jogging my memory — never robust — and of course Steve left no notes of his own.

I have already sorted some of the photos into the existing album, which is what opened my eyes to the fact that a single album, with dividers, was Just Not Going to Do the Job, and I spent what was probably a stupidly long time looking at how many pictures there are of me, and questioning their part in this project. In the end, I came to the conclusion that, yes, the pictures of me are part of the narrative; after all, the photographer considered the pictures worth taking.

In addition to the above, I’ve been writing — not as quickly as I’d like, but that’s usually the case — and going to gym, and mostly keeping up with daily life, in this vastly changed environment. The coon cats are keeping a very close eye on me, which I can hardly blame them for, considering the number of A-List players we’re lost lately.

One thing I haven’t done is an InfoDump, and I really ought to. Some people will have missed the news about Steve, and there’s the Ribbon Dance eARC to promote, and the upcoming Salvage Right mass market because Life Does Go On, and books are in a very literal sense, my life.

Well. Maybe this weekend for the InfoDump.

I think that catches us up for right now.

Thank you all for your patience, and for your support down many years through many stories.

Fables From the Past: Priority

Once upon a time, there were two writers — He and She. They were, to be precise, science fiction writers, who are, according to the results of many Deeply Scientific Studies, the Most Troublesome of all possible genres of writers.

At about the time this story that I’m telling you takes place, these writers had . . . lucked out, publishing-wise. The rights to their first three novels had been returned to them, and they had landed an amazing, it-never-works-this-way seven book contract with a brand-new publisher, who was willing to innovate.

Now, among the many other improbable facts surrounding and supporting these two writers is that they rejoiced — and I do mean that literally — in an active, interested, globe-spanning fan base, despite the other fact of not having published a novel in seven-or-ten years (He said seven, because He was an optimist; She said ten, because She wasn’t). The reason they had . . . acquired? . . . accreted? this fan base was because of a complicated mixture of computer bulletin boards, FIDOnet, and the fact that He had started a (very) small press in 1995, called SRM Publisher, in order to provide that vocal, globe-spanning fan base with Liaden Universe® stories. (Another improbable fact regarding these writers is that they had created a whole universe, yes, out of their heads, and wrote about the people who lived there and their various goings-on. What was wildly improbable is that people wanted to read about that universe, those people, and their adventures.)

The (very) small press produced chapbooks — paper, because this was back at the end of the last century — 1995, to be precise, and you wouldn’t believe how awful the screens were, and we were so proud of them, poor children. Anyway!

Though the writers had not sold anything in their universe for those seven-or-ten years, they had not stopped writing in their universe, and they had a small backlog of short stories (and novels). SRM, Publisher produced one chapbook — Two Tales of Korval — it did well, and there was a demand for more, which the writers were pleased to do their best to meet.

This brings us to around 1998, the new publisher, the seven-book contract, and innovation.

When the publisher was made aware of the fan-base, he asked the writers to find out if there would be any interest, not only in high-quality hardcover and trade paper editions of their novels, but in signed copies of same.

The writers went onto their listserve and their blogs, and put the question.

Let’s say that there was interest.

So, the deal was struck with the publisher. Readers interested in signed copies would preorder a title, the preodered titles would be shipped directly to the writer’s country estate in Maine, they would sign them, and mail them to the readers, following a list provided by the publisher. For this extra labor, the writers would receive 50% of cover for all preorders.

The preorders were in the high hundreds, possibly a thousand; I’m not trying to brag, but — it was a Large Number. The writers received pallet-loads of their first book with this publisher — a slender volume (yes, I’m serious) entitled Plan B.

And now we come to the point of this fable. Recall that the writers were not only to sign (and in many cases personalize) each volume, but they then had to physically mail the books.

At that time, the US Post Office provided a Priority Mail Flat Rate box — for free! — that was exactly the size of one hardcover volume. Splendid; the writers went right to work — He assembled a mountain of boxes; She printed labels and kept them paired with the signing list. Every day one or both of them would go out to the Unity, Maine, Post Office with a Big Pile of Boxes and mail them. Everything easy.

What wasn’t easy, were the Canadian and overseas orders, of which there were — a few. The Priority Mail boxes were for US mail only; the Retail Outlets did not offer the perfect size. The writers looked at each other, frowning in thought: How to make this easy and fun?

Then, He looked at the unmade Priority Mail boxes sitting in a pile on the floor, and He noticed — as only He would — that the inside of the box — was blank. Yep, plain cardboard. He snatched up an unmade box, put it together backward, that is, with PRIORITY MAIL US GOVERNMENT FLAT RATE on the inside of the box. She handed him a signed book. He sealed it in. She applied the label.

The next day, they included this box among the dozens they took to the Unity Post Office. The postmaster herself processed the order, and didn’t even look funny at the one, plain box.

The writers were back in business, and the rest of the mailing labor was easy and fun.

It is often said, and truly, that US Post Office has no sense of humor. By the time the writers’ third book from the new publisher came out and was ready to be mailed, the Post Office had produced an answer to their happy innovation.

And that is why, to this day, when get a Priority Mail box at the Post Office, you will see that the inside has words on it, something to the effect of, “US Post Office, Not For Private Use.”

And when the stars threw down their spears

It’s a funny thing, how life goes on. Until it doesn’t, of course, but we’re very good as a species about ignoring that.

So — life. Much changed, but still moving, still demanding attention, response, thought, and action.

My short-term goal is to find all of Steve’s papers — which is not as easy as you might think — and get them into boxes to send to the archive at Northern Illinois University. My brother-in-law and nephew are coming up from mid-Coast in a few days to help me, literally, with the heavy lifting, and a Dumpster has been engaged to receive such things as no longer have utility.

My longer-term goals are to finish the sequel to Ribbon Dance — the deadline having been moved from September to November — and start work on the book after that.

In-between all that, there’s the Ordinary: Litter pans do not clean themselves, after all (well, OK; apparently some litter pans clean themselves); bills still need to be paid; meals eaten; dishes washed; cats scrubbled, groomed, and played with. Credit where it’s earned: the coon cats are keeping me to a Tight Schedule, demanding tools down at precisely 7:11 pm, so that Happy Hour may commence (Happy Hour starting with a shared can of gooshy food, after which we — by which I mean, three cats and a woman — make a pile on the sofa for an hour, until it’s time for me to get my meal.)

In the planning stages are a return to the gym (I had cancelled my membership, because the cash, it was not flowing), which is in the Community Center, where there are people. I’m also going to have to look around me for a book, lunch, or sewing club. I score pretty high as an Introvert, not to mention a tendency toward Black Knighthood, but even I need some human contact.

Under Ordinary: I believe that the eARC of Ribbon Dance is due to drop on March 15 — so, yanno, Watch the Skies.

I do want to mention that people had asked for a place to write about Steve and how he touched their lives. I’ve set up a page here for that purpose. If you choose to contribute, please understand that you are not required to be Solemn. Steve loved to laugh, and was rarely solemn himself.

And I think that catches us up. Everybody stay safe.

Today’s blog title brought to you by William Blake, The Tiger.*

_________
*Steve was born in a Year of the Tiger

About the Carousel Books

So, I’ve had some Questions about the Carousel books (by Sharon Lee) and, more particularly, about the Archers Beach chapbooks. Follows an attempt to bring everybody up to speed.

NOTE: There are links embedded for the titles discussed.

In 2010, Baen Books published Carousel Tides, a small-town contemporary fantasy set in the fictional town of Archers Beach, Maine. Tides was supposed to have been a one-off, but — I blame my brain, which eventually produced two more books in the series, Carousel Sun, and Carousel Seas, published by Baen in 2014 and 2015.

My brain also obligingly produced some short stories in the Archers Beach universe, which I eventually collected into three chapbooks.

Surfside, published in 2013, contained short story “Emancipated Child,” dealing with the town of Surfside, just next door to Archers Beach, which had long been without a Guardian; and very short story “How Nathan Archer Came to be a Prince in the Land of the Flowers (by Kate Archer as told to Sharon Lee)” dealing with — well. What it says.

The Gift of Magic was published in 2015, collecting two stories that had originally been published on Baen.com, “The Gift of Music,” and “The night don’t seem so lonely.” The first story talks about the healing power of music, in 1920s Archers Beach. The second story is set in 1969, and deals with finding your home and your heart-family. It offended some delicate sensibilities when it was published, so, yanno: Good on you, Past Me.

Spell Bound was published in 2016. It collected two longish stories first published on Splinter Universe: “Will-o’-the-Wisp,” and “The Wolf’s Bride.” The first story again has to do with families of the heart, as well as the nature of truth. “Bride” is set in Sempeki, the Land of the Flowers, and it’s the origin story of Cael the Wolf, who appears in the novels.

Coming up, on February 20 (no link yet, because it’s still a-building) is Doors Into Change, which includes three short stories: “The Road to Pomona’s,” “The Vestals of Midnight,” and “Wolf in the Wind.” “Pomona” was first published on Splinter Universe, and then collected in Horror for the Throne. It’s a precursor to Archers Beach, dealing with the danger of being able to see into the wyrd. “Midnight,” first appeared in Release the Virgins, and pits Kate Archer (the lead of the novels, and Guardian of Archers Beach) against the power that inhabits what is possibly the strangest corner of her land. “Wolf” is a slice of life from Archers Beach, where we find that some folks just aren’t meant to settle down. The introductory chapters were posted on Splinter Universe; the chapbook includes the complete novelette.

Now, the Carousel books did not sell all that well, but they don’t seem to be as much of a surprise to people as the chapbooks, which sold even less well. I hope that the above clarifies matters for everyone.

New Archers Beach chapbook in the works!

For those coming in late, a bit of History.

Steve Miller ((and Sharon Lee)) were, for many years SRM Publisher, Ltd, a very small press that put out a number of Lee and Miller chapbooks, as well as chapbooks for other authors, notably Ru Emerson, David M. Harris, James A. Hetley, Lawrence M. Schoen, Mark W. Tiedemann, in addition to Liaden Universe® Companion Vol 1 and 2, which were hardback and trade Liaden Universe® paper collections.

Due to a cascade of colliding challenges, including increasing post office rates, the retirement of our longtime printer, and Steve’s health, SRM Publisher ceased operations in 2011, following the publication of Skyblaze: Adventures in the Liaden Universe® No. 17.

Organized in 1995, SRM Publisher produced paper editions only. After a period of reorganization, in which rights were returned to authors and Accountings Were Made, there arose in the Lee-and-Miller Fictioneering Empire, the Electronic Heir to SRM Publisher — Pinbeam Books.

Pinbeam Books, aka Sharon Lee and Steve Miller, republished all of SRM’s remaining holdings as ebooks, and, when new chapbooks were inevitably created, because Lee and Miller will keep writing those silly short stories of theirs, Pinbeam Books published those, as well

What does all this, I hear you say, have to do with a new Archers Beach chapbook?

I’m glad you asked.

Way back in 2010, 2014, and 2015, Sharon Lee published a fantasy trilogy with Baen Books, alternatively known as the Carousel Trilogy and the Archers Beach Trilogy. As almost always happens when I’ve written a novel, there are characters and story-bits left scattered about after, which often become stories, which then have to be published.

Baen accounted for two of those stories, commissioned to appear on their front page, and the rest were nobody’s fault but my own. After the stories were written, or fell out of contract, they needed to be republished so that people who missed the first publication would have a chance to read them and Pinbeam Books was responsible for those republications, and eventually for reprinted paper editions, as well.

Now! We finally get to the point.

Pinbeam Books will be publishing Doors Into Change, three stories of Archers Beach, on February 20 2024. This chapbook will include reprinted short stories “The Road to Pomona’s,” and “The Vestals of Midnight,” and newly-completed novelette “Wolf in the Wind.” The ebook will be available from All of the Usual Suspects, which I am not going to name, because I’ll absolutely miss one by accident and there will be an Outcry. There will also be a paper edition.

This has gotten unexpectedly long, so I’ll close here with a Sneak Peek of the Cover:

The view from Friday

Frequent auditors of this and other conversational venues on the web across space and time will recall that! I drop things. By which I mean, things that I believe I have a Perfectly Firm Grip On, suddenly go flying out of my hands, and . . . Let’s just say that my Calligraphic Name — Death of Fountain Pens — is not unearned.

So, last night, I was performing my nighttime ablutions, which include care of the rending and grinding apparatus. To aid in that project, I had to hand a small cup of water, about half full.

Now, this is Maine and my bathroom, as all good bathrooms are — is cold. Being a wimp, I moved a Lasko upright space heater in, and have been quite enjoying dressing and showering by the fire. When not in use, the space heater tucks quite nicely under an edge of the sink.

Remember the above plot-point.

So! Last night, ablutions, half-cup of water. Yes. I picked up the half-cup of water, only — it took flight, spun out of my grasp, flying off the edge of the sink, passing over the space heater, depositing as it did so, every single drop of its contents.

Which, let me stress, was Not Much.

It was, however, sufficient unto the day. Or evening.

The space heater spontaneously turned on. I hit the off button — no go. I tried again, and when the answer was still “no,” I unplugged it.

This morning, I plugged it back in, and! It refused to turn on. Despite all of the other items plugged into the same receptacle were working fine, I prudently took the space heater across the hall to the Tech Room, where I plugged it into the Working Octopus, and — hit the power button.

The heater came on, and began producing heat. I relaxed — too soon, as it happens, because, suddenly, the unit began to beep, and count down from 70 until it hit 39 at which point, it turned itself off.

“Do we have the manual?” Steve asked. “I don’t think so,” I said; “it’s pretty old. But I’ll look.”

So, I did look. We have a large file of care instructions and manuals in the back of the file cabinet. Too large, in fact. Searching for the Lasko’s manual, I found the manual for a tablet that I haven’t had for at least a decade, and I started to make noises that sounded like, “My ghod, you just need to throw all this stuff out!”

And then I found the instruction manual for the space heater. So — Mixed Messages from the Universe. What else is new?

While I was rummaging, Steve found the manual on-line and we’re both resting on our laurels — me with a second cup of tea and a cookie — before we attempt to reprogram.

And that’s Friday at the Confusion Factory.

At the beginning of the movie, they know they have to find each other

. . . but they ride off in opposite directions.

So, yesterday, I did manage to write most of the day, with needed breaks for, oh, changing the bed, and taking a walk, and like that.

Anyhow! Yesterday, I wrote. I sat down at the keyboard knowing exactly how I wanted this to go, and, 1600 or so words later, discovered that I had written!

Something entirely else. And worse–it didn’t work.

Yeah, I hate when that happens. Sometimes–just often enough to let you think that your fingers really do know better–the difference not only works, but it’s better than what the brain put forth. But, yanno, not always.

So, today, I will write again, and this time I’ll stick to the script, and see if I can’t get this thing put to bed, because tomorrow I really do need to get back to the novel. I mean, September isn’t getting any further away.

Otherwise here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, RL continues to put itself forward, which doesn’t make it easy to write, though Needs Must of course. Or, if you like–Necessity.

Speaking of RL–over the weekend, our mailbox fell off it’s post. I went out in what was then rain and wind to put it back, found it wasn’t a matter of just Putting It Back, went inside for rope, but found none, and finally grabbed a roll of duct tape, which as we all know, holds the universe together.

Only, not in the rain.

Right about then, my neighbor, who had been snowblowing his drive, came across the lawn from his garage, waving a nautical cinch strap. Together, we got the mailbox strapped to the post, and he promised to help me achieve a More Regular Solution later in the week. Good neighbor, yeah.

Yesterday, which dawned sunny and cold, he called to tell me that he was going to take the mailbox down to his workshop, and fix it up, which he proceeded to do, drafting his wife into the project as a stabilizer for the last step.

I went out to thank them, and to see if there was anything I could do, but they had it in hand, and all but done by the time I got there. I did give them a signed copy of Salvage Right: “The writer’s equivalent of a batch of cookies,” is what I told them.

“Oh, no!” came the answer with a broad grin. “This is like homemade jam!”

We are, indeed, fortunate in our neighbors.

Now? I’m going to work, as above. You’ll see that I’m well-supervised:

Today’s blog title brought to you by Laurie Anderson, “Sharkey’s Day.” Here’s your link.