Tag: balticon

when the world is puddle-wonderful

What went before: 707 new words today, bringing the WIP total word count to 35,147.

I printed out Blays and Majel’s Excellent Adventure, and will now have to time it.

Trooper is insisting that it is Coon Cat Happy Hour neeOW!, and he is, alas, wrong. I will therefore torment him by straightening up my desk and staring into the abyss of next week, which starts off with a bang! — a 7am appointment at the car dealership to get the Subaru ready for hitting the road. And! I need to remember to take the backway, because the ramp off the expressway to the dealership is closed (again) for repairs.

Sixteen people have committed to the Friends of Liad Breakfast at BaltiCon, which is certainly enough to warrant making a reservation.

It’s started to rain again; apparently, this is expected to continue through tomorrow night.

And Firefly has just come by to remind me about watching Dr. Who tonight…

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Raining. I’m chilly, but I don’t think it’s actually chilly. Anyhoot, sweatshirt on, and the dishwasher is doing its thing.

Breakfast was a cup of cottage cheese with a spoon of blueberry/ginger jam stirred in, this being the compromise after I informed myself that “I’ll just skip breakfast” was Not Acceptable. Lunch is easier. I have some tomato soup left over from the other day, into which I shall place a meatball or two and maybe some lentils, and, hey-presto! — rainy day soup.

<aside>I managed last year by riding the wave of Habit. But the wave has struck, and broken, and it’s becoming noticeably harder for me to keep on track. I haven’t lived by myself for nearly 50 years, and I’m finding I’m not very good at it. OTOH, I don’t really want to live with anybody else. Honestly, there’s no pleasing the woman.</aside>

So, last night, we watched Dr. Who. Firefly watched most of the Space Babies from the top of the cat tree, with Tali, but she came down when the bogeyman almost got Eric, and cuddled up with me, so we went on and watched the Music Thief, which I quite liked. (Apologies for not recalling the official titles of these episodes.)

Today, I need to time my (proposed) reading, and do some writing. Also, I need to make rice to have against need; it seems I’ve been eating a lot of rice, somehow, and remember to set the alarm for Omighod so I can be in Augusta (going the back way) by 7 am. I may grab breakfast at Lisa’s, after, and forage on the way home.

Looking out over the Long Back Yard — it’s amazing how quickly the leaves and flowers get on with it, once they’ve decided the time is right. I swear that two weeks ago, I had skeleton trees…

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by e.e. cummings, “In Just-“

In which the writer is not a cinephile

First things first:  This is for the purposes of planning the Friends of Liad Breakfast on Saturday morning of  Balticon at 8:45 am

If you are planning to attend the breakfast (you do not need to be a member of the con to come to breakfast): say “Yes” in comments.

Things you need to know about the Friends of Liad Breakfast:  (1) This is a family gathering to catch up with each other and news. Everybody pays for their own breakfast.  (2) It is not a con event.

Go!

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What went before ONE: Old/new snippet: “Was that too long?” Theo snapped, worry sublimating into temper by a process he understood intimately. “You smashed the rack-and-tile array with a starbar. The doc had to do repairs at the cellular level! You should be dead, except you got lucky.”

Lucky. Of course, he had gotten lucky.

What went before TWO: So, lost +/-230 words on the day, bringing the total WIP to 34,440, more or less. And! I have a follow to a new scene that did not appear in Salvage Right, and which will address something that we glossed over in Salvage Right because deadline and if we kept on going we’d have written a 200,000 word book and, just — no.

There are already /1/0 15 people who say they’ll be attending the Saturday morning Friends of Liad breakfast at BaltiCon. Hoping the in-house restaurant is more amenable to reservations than the Boskone hotel, which, the last time Steve and I hosted a FOL breakfast, adamantly refused to take a reservation, and therefore doomed themselves to constantly rearranging the room for two hours, as folks kept arriving.

I am scheduled to be interviewed at 11:30 on Saturday at the con, according to the Less Drafty Schedule, so that’s something else to bear in mind.

Trooper was unfortunately messily ill this morning, which means that there will be no Happy Hour this evening. Because explaining to cats that they need to not gorge on gooshy food because it will make them sick isn’t exactly an Easy Sell, I think I will be on the couch watching Dr. Who and ignoring the protests of felines whose throats have been cut, rather than trying to read, or write, or do ASL homework.

And that’s all I’ve got on the day.

#

Saturday. The ‘beans claim it’s raining. The weather over the Long Back Yard is mostly sunny and a trifle cool. I’ve set the Awesome Chair up on the deck.

Breakfast was a ham and cheese sandwich (which finishes the ham, which I am now tired of, so it will be easier — for a while, anyway — to resist temptation) and veggie chips. Yes, that does sound like lunch. Actual lunch will be quiche and salad.

Thanks to everyone who pitched in on the name of the movie. Kill Bill it was. Nasty piece of work. Bearing in mind that I also did not think Thelma and Louise was “funny.” I think I may have mentioned that I am not the person they make movies for.

Speaking of movies, I watched The Church on Ruby Road, and the difference between now and 1997 is … wow. The cats all joined me, and we had a lovely viewing. Firefly has already asked that we do it again this evening, so I’ve got that inked in.

I stayed up a bit late last night, to finish The Teller of Small Fortunes. I also made the executive decision not to finish the book club book. This is slightly awkward, because I’m going to listen to the author read from this book in a week or two. OTOH, there always exists the possibility that I’m reading it wrong — reading protocols are A Thing, after all — and that the author’s performance will inform me.

Having gone to bed late, I slept late, and woke up to the realization that I need to start Making Lists for my upcoming perambulations, and for my duties to the con. Since I will apparently not be doing itinerant readings, I think I will read Blays and Majel’s Excellent Adventure officially, and perhaps carry with me “The Last Train to Clarkesville,” in case there’s another opportunity to just sit and read for an hour (it’s a long story).

This still leaves me with packing (1) the big suitcase full of con stuff and (2) the duffel bag, for my mini-vacay on the way home. I have engaged one of those apartmenty things, with a kitchen, and there’s a Wegman’s somewhere in Corning which I’ll try to hit before I check in. I have my tickets for two days at the museum, and two classes booked — one at the museum, and one at a studio in-town.

I still need to come to terms with how to get out of Baltimore. I’m thinking that Steve and I left BaltiCon 50 at, like, 4 o’clock in the morning and just shot out the Jones Falls well ahead of rush hour. That may be my best plan.

Today, I intend, mostly, to write. I have a few chores, as per usual, and one’s duty to the cats, and I will honor Firefly’s request for Moar Dr. Who. Oh, and I have to find something to read. I think I have the most recent Sebastian St. Cyr in the electronic TBR pile, the second Bad Heirs, a couple of cozies, and a Celia Lake to test drive. Yeah, I won’t starve.

What’s everybody reading today?

Oh. There are four cats in my office.

I want to fly like an eagle, to the sea

Friday. Rainy and cool.

Breakfast is rice crackers, cream cheese, applesauce. Waiting for my tea to brew.

I need some things at the grocery. The jury is still out whether I’ll get them in town or in Belfast. There’s a Reny’s in Belfast, which may tip the scales.

So, yesterday was very strange. At one point, I was running a (minor) fever, and I just felt — unwell. I cancelled out of ASL class, which was a bummer, but might as well not give whatever it was — assuming it was giftable — to my classmates.

This morning I feel — OK. No fever. Not so exhausted I can barely drag my tail downstairs to perform one’s duty to the cats.

So, that’s all good.

I have a less-drafty schedule from BaltiCon Programming (The final schedule may happen next week. Maybe.). There is room on Saturday morning for a FOL breakfast at — eh? 8? 8:30? 9? We will not be having a Stuffed Animal Tea, unless I can work something out with either the consuite or the Green Room, so, yanno, watch the skies.

In other news, the WIP now weighs in at 34,667 words, which looks like Holy Smoke! That woman wrote yesterday!, but is mostly cut ‘n pasting/minor reworking from Salvage Right.

This is a matter of +/-3400 words, and will likely be less as soon as I get smart enough to figure out how to further streamline the needed action while providing Necessary Context. In a +\-100,000 word novel, this is Very Small Potatoes. Nonetheless, I anticipate hearing from the folks who howled their heads off, asserting that half of Mouse and Dragon was “nothing but” the ending of Scout’s Progress, and they were thereby Cheated. I suspect that this unhappy anticipation is what has kept me from moving forward on this section, even though I’ve known from the start of the project that it’s going to have to go down this way. I do know that most people will Get It, but I hate getting yelled at in email. Or at all, really.

And! The votes are in! I’ll be foraging in town today.

What else? I’m still kind of reading the book club book, with a chaser of The Teller of Small Fortunes. It’s been slow going because I’ve been so damned tired. I may really try to knock off early this evening and, oh, watch Dr. Who.

Oh, and I need to find someone to paint my garage. Actually, I think I probably need somebody to rebuild my garage, but I’m not sure how that might be made to happen. Well. Research. That’ll be fun.

That appears to be the contents of my head, and my tea’s almost gone.

What’s going on with you, this fine Friday?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Mr. Steve Miller — the other Steve Miller — who notably wrote this song in 1976, when I’m told that music was Pure and nobody wrote about politics or social action in their books.  “Fly Like An Eagle“

. . . and whether pigs have wings

What went before: Sigh.

No fewer than three people have wished me to know that Amazon is holding its Really Big Sale this year during Independent Booksellers Week.

Thank you all for your concern. I am aware that the Large Waterway is scum. I am aware that there is nothing to stop them from having their sale whenever they want to have their sale, even if they’re knowingly playing dirty pool.

However.

Why do writers write? *shrugs* Probably there are as many reasons as there are writers, though I suspect we all share two reasons: We want people to BUY our books and! We want people to READ our books. Note the order of those two items.

Like lesser mortals, writers need money to pay for food, for heat, for rent, for meds, for cat food, and all like that. They therefore put their books on sale everywhere that will pay them a percentage of each sale — big markets, little markets, libraries…wherever.

As a private person, I can deplore a market’s morals. As a writer, am I going to pull my books from said market, so long as they pay me? I am not. Am I a Bad Person, my pool cue as dirty as said market’s table? No. I’m not.

And why is that? Here you go —

I can put my books on sale wherever I please. But I can’t make you buy them  from any particular market. Witness the folks who would rather buy books from Enormous River rather than from the Uncle. The point here is not so much author choice (sell books widely; maybe make the rent this month) as it is buyer’s choice (Big Market Bad; I shall buy from a market that is more pleasing to myself).

Asking me to pull my books from a market that accounts for 90+% of my sales is asking me to live outdoors, or starve my cats, and I won’t willingly do either of those things. Buy my books someplace else — your favorite indie bookstore, for an example.  You Have the Power!

End of this lecture in Writer Economics 101.

#

Sunday. Raining and chilly. Steve’s good, heavy, red-and-black flannel shirt is once again pressed into use. This garment has been endlessly useful.

Breakfast was refried grilled veggies with cheese. Lunch will be a salad and soup.

Rook’s tail was following him around and he decided to blame it on Tali, so they’ve been wrasslin’ through three rooms. Firefly is acting as ref. Trooper is visiting Steve in his office.

Did some plotting yesterday. Today I hope for new words.

From the mailbag: Do I have my BaltiCon schedule yet?

Short Answer: Er. No. I received a draft schedule, which was … inadequate …  mostly due to the fact that I had not been given a login to the scheduling program, and so couldn’t choose faces. I thought that was straightened out, but I haven’t heard anything else.

Expansion: I would sort of like to have a schedule ahead of arrival, since I like to, oh, prepare. And, also, this is very likely the last time I’ll in-person at a convention, and I also know from the mailbag that there are people who are coming only to see me, or waiting to see the schedule before deciding (which is flattering, but BaltiCon’s a good con; lots more things to do than hang out with an aging, taciturn SciFi writer, so you should definitely come, if you’re thinking about it at all).

In regard to planning ahead, I’m thinking that, if I turn out to be basically on my own, I could wander about the convention doing pop-up readings. My memory of the space isn’t great, but there must be corners, nooks, back tables in the consuite where people could gather and I could read for a bit.

So, here’s the place where you guys can help me out: If you have a favorite scene or story that you would like to hear read aloud, let me know in comments.

Other than all of that — what’s going on with you today?

Today’s blog post from Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, “The Walrus and the Carpenter.”  Yes, I do quote from Alice rather a lot.

Photograph from last night’s special Hall Blocker’s Meeting, in  which Hall Blocker Emeritus Kelimcoons Sooper Trooper tutors the club’s youngers in Basic Short Hall Technique.