Tag: blog

Magic Glass Writing

What went before:

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What went before: Senior supervisor checking placement of juniors

 

 

 

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Wrote +/-900 words and needed a break to let the guys in the basement get in their beer order.

So, here’s my stained glass pattern, all color-coded and waiting for me to go to the glass store (on Thursday with the rest of my class) and buy some damn’ glass, Woman! I probably have too many colors, and it seems clear that the pattern, at least, wants Serious Art Glass for the sea and the starfish. I’ll see what’s on sale at the glass shop, pattern. No promises.

Who’s doin’ what today?

While I’m up and around…

Last night I went to the much-anticipated magic show — Magic Rocks, which is pronounced “Magic! Rocks!” and NOT “Magic rocks.” The reason for the sign prohibiting rabbits that I posted from the pre-show last night is because the illusionist, Leon Etienne, is IRL allergic to rabbits. So — no rabbits on stage or in the audience.

It was, yes, loud, because said illusionist is a rock ‘n roll enthusiast (thus “Magic! Rocks!), and there were bright lights and no lights at all at strategic moments.

The Lovely Assistants were, lovely, skilled pantomimists, and honestly, all-around good sports. The illusionist himself was personable, funny, and skilled.

There was a kind of camp feel to the show, aided and abetted by the Lovely Assistants, who seemed at times to be saying, “Yes, we all know this trick, right?” And yes, we all did know the trick, but seeing a woman cut in half live! on stage! is its own kind of magic.

I had, as I believe I said last evening, a really good time.

The tricks started big and showy, got small and intimate, then finished up big and showy.

The volunteers from the audience were uniformly good sports, and the expression on their faces when the magic happened multiplied the wonder in the room.

When the illusionists came down into the audience, I was close enough to hear him say to his first volunteer, “Ma’am, I’ve been looking at you all evening from up on stage, and it’s really been bothering me so I hope you won’t mind, but you’ve got a hair right here –” And I also heard her gasp “OH!” when he pulled the toy rabbit out of her ear.

I also want to call out the woman who went up on stage and surrendered her ring to the illusionist, who subsequently made it disappear — and then revealed that it had not transferred to the jewelry bag that had been set up to receive it. She was visibly tense, and got tenser, and tenser, as box after box after box was unlocked and opened, and her ring was still missing.

When it was finally found, her whole body shouted relief, her smile was to die for, and that one trick was a master class for any storyteller in the art of raising the stakes.

The kid volunteers were also terrific; I’m pretty sure I didn’t have that much sangfroid when I was seven.

Anyhow! If you have a chance to see Magic Rocks — do that.

And so it began

Saturday. Sky half grey and half blue. Going to be warmer than lately, but by no means hot.

Slept long and late. Breakfast will be sausage and cheese on an English muffin, and lunch will be the lonely pork chop waiting in the fridge.

Thirty-seven years ago today, an orange-and-white UHaul truck with a governor on the accelerator, closely followed by a black Chevrolet Beretta, entered Maine via Routes 2 and 4 in Farmington and made their way to Skowhegan.

In the UHaul was Steve Miller, PIC, copilot Arwen deGrey, and what was left of the Miller and Lee Household — records and books; a stereo system; an old wooden Philco cabinet radio that didn’t work, but served as our mantle; kitchen supplies, and an almost-new microwave oven; two Kaypro computers; a 9-pin printer;, and two so-called computer desks, brand-new and still in the box.

Piloting the Beretta was Sharon Lee, copilot Archie McGee, and passenger Brandee Whitchin. In the trunk was a copy of the manuscript titled Carpe Diem, the Important Life Records of both pilots and cats, a dictionary, a Scrabble set, suitcases, and cat supplies. In the back seat were a few small boxes of this ‘n that, and the cat carrier occupied by our passenger.

We arrived in Skowhegan and went to the address that had been given us, to pick up the key to the rental house. Instead, we came away with our deposit, in cash, because the daughter of the gentleman who had rented us the house had left her husband during the time the happy caravan was climbing slowly north from Maryland, and needed a place to live.

We then went downtown, to let the editor at the Skowhegan Reporter know that Mr. Miller, whom he had hired after two extensive phone interviews, was in town and ready for work. Unfortunately, in a game of Editorial Spin the Bottle indulged in by the owner of the syndicate the Skowhegan editor had been reassigned, and the new editor had neither news of, nor desire for, a spanking new reporter who didn’t know the beat.

Considerably let down, the Plan in shambles, but still determined to proceed, the pilots drove out to the edge of town, where they found a campground motel that was in the process of being shut down for the winter. The combination of Steve’s golden tongue and the kindness of the campkeepers saw us in the possession of both a very tiny cabin, and a promise that they would tell the crew to winterize that cabin last, so we could have time to find a more permanent solution.

That done, we drove to the other edge of town, rented a storage unit, stashed our stuff, went to the local Hannaford, got salads from the salad bar, and the big bottle of Gallo, returned to our cabin, and the cats. We ate, played a couple games of Scrabble, and went to bed.

The next morning, there was snow on the ground, and, after dining well at Burger King, the pilots drove to Augusta to return the UHaul truck, then came went back to the cabin in Skowhegan, and sat down to make a New Plan.

What’s everybody doing today?

Friday night roundup

What went before: Errands always take longer than you think they will. However! I have accomplished all my errands.

err. except going to the grocery store.

Which I will be doing! Just as soon as I finish eating the cottage cheese and pretzel that I’m calling by the pet name of “lunch” today.

The guy at SBS said that I was the third stained glass person in on the day, so — good to see we’re all on the case.

The creperie is … difficult for me to understand, and expensive. So I’ll try again some other time.

And that’s all the news that’s fit to print at the mom– Oh. I have an Informed Delivery note from the USPS — news of a package due four days out.

Rookie, by the way, doesn’t think that I need to go away for hours just to come home stinking of D.O.G. eeewwww! (SBS has two resident Big, Friendly Dogs, who were Very Interested in me and happy to provide Vitamin Dog, and we all know that it’s rude to turn down freely-offered Vitamin Dog.)

And that really is it.

Off to the grocery store I go!
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Helping me read:
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The day didn’t go exactly as planned, but! I wrote 545 new words, bringing the WIP entire to +/-89,500 words. And I did eventually do all my errands. And Sarah left the house nice and clean.

I was addressed as “sir” in Reny’s by a woman who was horrified and more apologetic than strictly necessary. She had just seen my hair, she said, and, and my shirt, and she had just made an assumption and ohmighod so very, very sorry MA’AM.

And one more argument against the proposition that you can just tell what people “are” by looking at them.

My “business desk” looks like a bomb hit it, but that’s at least partly the printout of the material that didn’t go through yesterday. I can apparently submit via paper, and I’m trying to decide if that will introduce more Room For Error. No HUGE rush, I guess, but I’d like to get it outta here.

I should probably come back after Happy Hour to put the desk into some kind of order. Or, yanno, not. I hate the feeling that I’m falling behind, and behinder. I’m pretty sure I’m not, but I depended on Steve to make those calibrations for me — really depended; I never learned how to do it for myself. I mean, I can — and do — write down the tasks in hand and their deadlines, look at them, and the calendar, and intellectually understand that I’ve got plenty of time, but the panic-maker never stops running around inside my head, yelling, “Holy freaking ghod, you’ve got So. Much. To. Do. You’re never going to get all this done, and then everything will fall apart, and what will happen to the cats, and, and, and. . . ”

Stoopid brain.

It just about is Happy Hour and I’ll at least be pouring myself a glass of wine in celebration of having gotten through today.

Tomorrow evening, I’m going to a magic show (Yes, I am. Stop it, Brain.), which I hope will be fun. I haven’t been to a magic show in ages. In fact, I think the last time was at Messalonskee High, approximately a hundred million years ago.

Before I go serve out Happy Hour, I want to share a photo. When Belle died Sara Oseasohn did a pastel portrait of her. Steve hung it on the wall in the living room, near the cat tree. Sara very kindly sent me a portrait of Trooper, which arrived today. I just hung it up. Pic below — not a good one, but the glass and the lighting kinda stretched my photography skills to the max.

And on that note! Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

The sun’s coming up like a big bald head

What went before ONE: So. Just wasted an hour inputting 20 infringed works into an online form only to have the dreaded “Something went wrong!” appear at the end of it all.

I could have done something useful with that hour.

Wrote to the administrator.

Eschewing strong drink at this time.

What went before TWO: Eek. I really may have bitten off more than I can chew this time. Stained glass is going to be intense.

There’s … eight of us, I guess. At least two are returning students. Some have worked with stained glass before. I of course am a Compleat Newbie. I did appreciate our instructor reminding us several times that the project we’ll be working on was going to be Our First, and that glass … breaks.

I managed to cut out a rectangle and a triangle, but a circle still eludes me. I do know that the secret is that glass breaks in straight lines, but I think I’m going to have to find a youtube howto, because I Just Ain’t Gettin’ It, and my pattern of course has a lot of curved lines.

There will also be Homework, which means I’ll be working in the back basement room, to keep cats out of glass, and glass dust out of the house.

Well. Onward. Next week — shopping! at Glass Express in Manchester. Which means I should spend some time planning out the colors in my project.

But all that? Is for later.

For right now, I need to read a chapter of A Night in the Lonesome October, and find something to eat.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Cool and not getting too much warmer. Sun coming up, but behind the trees, so I can’t verify the “big bald head” aspect of the event.

Breakfast was blueberry skyr. Drinking my first cup of tea. Haven’t the faintest about lunch, though I did defrost a pork chop, so there is that.

Sarah’s due in half an hour, more or less, whereupon I will join the cats in a genteel retreat to Steve’s office, where I hope to work, and they will perhaps nap.

After Sarah has finished, I have Errands, which include a trip to the post office, the pet store (the cats have finally hidden all the springs), SBS (to get my glass pattern enlarged) and the grocery. Lunch may be added to the list. I’m told there’s a creperie in town, now. Who knew?

I went to Informed Delivery to check my incoming mail, and the site is … not behaving. It occurs to me that the goobers shut down the goobermint, and unfortunately the government, what was left of it, too — and thus, there may be no mail. And certainly no one looking out for the website.

Interesting times.

What’s on for Friday at your place?

Today’s blog post title from Ms Laurie Anderson, “Sharkey’s Day“, yes, again.  It was a formative song.

Selling the chiefhold

What went before: So, proofed about 100 pages today, since I finished writing early, and the WIP had nothing more to say to me. That puts me well ahead of schedule, but honestly, I would be happy to get it done early so I can pick up another one of the writing-adjacent projects waiting in the wings.

I’ve been having a little problem with the shirt I’m embroidering. There’s the unexpected resistance offered by having to stitch through the paper grid and the shirt, even though I deliberately chose a light shirt. Also, the instructions are adamant, that I use a small hoop, and that . . . just isn’t working for me. The pattern is peeling up from the fabric and — just not working. One of my friends at needlework last night asked if I didn’t need a bigger hoop and I explained that a small hoop was called for, but the more I thought about it today, the more I really wanted a bigger hoop. So, I’ve made that adjustment. What I really want is an oval hoop, but I don’t have one in-hand, though I do have one on order, now.

Tomorrow evening is my first stained glass class, so that will be exciting. The plan is to write! first!, then see what I can do in the time left before class.

The cats have had Happy Hour, and it’s time for me to read the October 1 chapter of A Night in the Lonesome October, and then find a glass of wine and something to eat.

Everybody stay safe. Have a good evening.

I’ll check in tomorrow.
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Good morning:

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Writing session:  supervisors on the job:

 

 

 

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Well, let’s see.

Thursday. Sunny and seasonally warm.

The blanket I used to cover the rosebush last night was a little icy when I took it off at 8 o’clock. I’m not seeing a call for frost tonight, so that’s good. I have to look up this sort of rose and find what they want for winter.

In the meantime, this morning’s go at the keyboard netted+/-1,340 new words, bringing the WIP to +/- 88,800, which is kind of a pretty number, actually.

I have done my duty to the cats, and taken a walk. I’m planning on a late lunch because my evening class goes late. Ish.

Sarah confirms that she will be here bright and early tomorrow to clean — it’s been a while, what with having to cancel last time so I could see my doctor in Bath. The house is looking a little wild because my first priority has been to keep up with the writing and writing-adjacent stuff. Housekeeping is ‘way down on the list of Other Stuff I feel compelled to accomplish.

I read the October 1 chapter of A Night in the Lonesome October last night, in which we get Insight into Snuff’s duties. I’m reading aloud, because it feels Wrong not to, though that will perhaps change. The cats are … not unamused. Firefly at least remembers this thing.

And I think that’s it, aside a snippet. We haven’t had a snippet in a while.

How’s everybody doing?
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SNIPPET:
Val Con looked to Shan. “I haven’t seen this room open since Uncle Er Thom brought that person from the Aeschalees on-board.”

“Good gods.” Shan stared at him. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

“You’d been sent down to secure the trade,” Val Con said. “But I was cabin boy and called upon to serve.”

“Thus all I have is hearsay. And the rug, of course. Though it did clean up nicely.”

“And the trade was preserved,” Val Con continued, “and Uncle Er Thom was pronounced a chief of the Aeschaleen.”

“That I do remember,” Shan said. “Mother would occasionally ask how his second and third wives went on. Which was really too bad of her.”

“More cousins?” Miri asked.

“Sadly not,” Val Con answered. “He saw the wives each well-set-up in their own establishments with the proceeds from the sale of his chiefhold.”

Shan laughed. “Father had his moments, admit it.”

Forward to the fall

What went before: Back from needlework. Cats have had Happy Hour. I have two more business-like things to do before I can call it a day. Aside those two things, I think I did everything that needed doing (except writing) today, including reading 50 pages of proofs.

Tomorrow sees a return to the Write First Schedule.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

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I rate two supervisors this morning. Tali is taking her off-shift in the living room.

 

 

 

 

Wednesday. Chilly. Still working with the heat pumps, but if this keeps up, I might have to turn on the actual oil heat.

The morning writing session produced +/-1,755 new words, for a grand total-ish of 87,400.

Breaking early because End of Scene, and also? I’m starving. And given that I’m losing weight, but I’m not trying to lose weight, I figured I ought to Listen To My Body.

After lunch: one’s duty to the cats; walk; read page proofs; answer email — not necessarily in that order.

What’s everybody think of Snuff?

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Frost advisory this evening!  And my rose bush has a dozen (I counted) buds on it.

We are the keepers of several curses

What went before: One thousand seven hundred and thirty-ish new words, and some plotting. Tomorrow is not looking like a good day to write, and in fact, it may be that Tuesday will simply become a Business Day, since needlework is at 5.

I read 70 pages of proofs, go, me.

I did a little more research into the Braiding thing, and I will not be attending. I had somehow had a picture of people sitting in a circle perhaps, braiding brightly colored string or ribbon or yarn, and telling whatever story arose when it was your turn to tell. It sounded nice, in my head, restful, and intimate.

This is actually not what happens. I mean, there’s a bit where people are encouraged to record their stories. But what they’ll be braiding is hair. And the braids made during the session will be incorporated into a braid sculpture created by the leader of the event, and that? Doesn’t appeal to me at all.

So! I won’t be braiding. I’ll look at the schedule to see if there’s anything else that seems interesting, or maybe, yanno, I’ll just stay home on First Friday. It’s not like I don’t have stuff to do.

It’s dark already, here at 7pm Eastern (US), and I’m really dreading the closing in of the dark. After work — right after Coon Cat Happy Hour — was Us Time for Steve and me. We shared a meal, and wine, played a game — or two — or just read together, catching each other up in comments and in silence. I really, really miss that, and I can’t seem to find anything to fill the empty space that is . . . calm and satisfying. It may get better, once I get at least two of the four writing and writing-adjacent projects out of the way, and can read in the evening again. Right now, I can’t do that, because my day has been filled with too many words already, and my head is ringing with them.

Anyhow.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Tuesday. Blue skies, high, puffy white clouds. Chilly it begins and chilly it shall remain.

Trash and recycling have made it to the curb. First cup of tea to hand. I should find something to eat for breakfast. Eh. Tea and free association first.

The first two pair of jeans I put on this morning slipped right off before I could even put anything in the pockets, so I guess 38X34 is no longer a thing. Happily, I have several pairs of 36X34, which are a little loose, but that’s what belts and tuck-in shirts are for.

This morning, after breakfast, another trek to the hospital, for xray and blood draw. Possibly meeting a friend for lunch and a hand-off that’s been months in the making.

Needlework at 5.

Somewhere in-between there, I ought to do business things and read some page proofs. Check.

Today . . . Today is September 30, the day before The Game officially begins. As you are aware, last year I did not play. As you are also aware, the Openers won.

I am this year enlisting on the side of the Closers, and will commence my participation tonight with: “I am a watchdog. My name is Snuff.”

Who’s with me?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Roger Zelazny, A Night in the Lonesome October, 1993, Avon Books.

Soldier on, only you can do what must be done

Up betimes because there were pony races in the hall, followed by a sound that my sleeping mind identified as “That’s not right.”

And, indeed, it wasn’t right. Steve has a piece of burlap hanging in his office with various convention badges and buttons appended thereto. And Rookie Too-Smart had gotten one of the badges down with its lanyard and had run it down the hall to put by the bed, so I’d be sure to see it, first thing.

Sigh.

What a good boy.

Tea brewing. And look! I have an extra couple hours to write!

And how’s Monday starting out for you?
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Supervisors on duty:

 

 

 

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Small break to refill the Yeti with water and confuse the cats.

Not quite as focused on the writing this morning as I have been. I did write +/-865 words, and I intend to go back and at least plot out — I use this term both loosely and idiosyncratically — the scenes that are missing. Very few of those, now, which is — I have no idea how this book is happening, but it’s managing to come together, and, yanno — I’m only the writer. Nobody tells me anything.

I really want to just continue writing today, absent breaks for staging the trash, and doing my duty to the cats, and my brain is telling me I could just call in a veggie burger from Five Guys and that would be efficient, which suggestion is entered as evidence for why I don’t trust my brain.

As I said, I wasn’t laser-focused this morning. For instance, I bought a slip-proof mat for my keyboard, since Steve’s desk is VERY slidey. I also signed up for braiding and storytelling at First Friday, reasoning that, if I have something to actually attend on First Friday, the whole affair will make more sense to me.

The addition of the braiding made me realize that I suddenly have lots going on this week, For Values Of. Tomorrow evening, needlework; Thursday evening, my first stained glass class; Friday evening, the braiding thing; Saturday, Magic Rocks. I should also get (another!) blood test and a back xray. I can do the back xray tomorrow, but I’m a little leery about another blood test, even though this one isn’t fasting, and shouldn’t require more than one vial.

The above is also an illustration of why I don’t take every weekend “off” — I tend to decide to do things whenever, since writing is, to a certain point at least, malleable.

So, that. And I guess, while I’m up, I might as well perform my duty to the cats and get the trash and recycling into the garage for tomorrow.

So, I see that the Reimagined United States now has autodocs? And special hospitals that are only filled with autodocs — excuse me — “Med Beds” (gags), and there’s one with my name on it, probably in Solcintra, but, hey, it’s the thought…

How’s everybody at more or less midday (Eastern US) Monday?

Today’s blog post brought to you by John Parr, “St. Elmo’s Fire“

Writin’ Sunday

Sunday. Sat with the manuscript for a couple hours, bringing some things up, adding to scenes, Tinkering with wording. Now taking a break to perform my duty to the cats (done) and rustle lunch (in process — yam stirfry with onion and garlic and spinach) before I got back and write some more. It’s a good day for writing.

I do have to read at least 35 pages a day to hit my return deadline for page proofs, so can’t forget that.

Last night, I was so exhausted by the time I finished up that I couldn’t eat. I just fell into bed and got unconscious. The coon cats all piled on and 9 hours later my watch is saying that my sleep was long but poor, but what does it know? Lots of dreams, many with the “feel” of Steve, no nightmares, so I’m calling a win.

The coon cats have been lounging in my office, which is nice and sunny and warm and has all the windows open for passive collection of Interesting Scents.

Aaand the spinach has just gone into the stirfry, so lunch is coming right up!

How’s everybody doing today?
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Well, that was a good writing day. I wrote a couple of bridges, hooked all but one of the scenes that have been floating in orbit around the master file into the master file, and updated the chapter-by-chapter. Still got some holes, but forward progress has gone forwarder.

At the moment, and calling into mind the wibbly-wobbly nature of the art, the Manuscript Entire weighs in at just around 83,830 words. It’s looking like we’re going to hit 150,000 before we get out of this, which is longish for a Liaden book, but not Stoopid Long.

It is now time to get a cookie and read 40ish pages of page proofs.

No, the thrills never do stop.
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And that’s It! All Done for the day, and I’m still standing. Almost time for Happy Hour, then a little bit of sorting for the week ahead, and actual food this evening, instead of just falling face-first into bed.

Progress.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Crafty Saturday

Going to the craft fair.

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Swag has been taken on.

Also, I may have a source for Tree-and-Dragon cameos. Which might be of interest.

A word about the swag.  The cobwebby thing is a shapechanger.  I don’t know its actual name.  If you manipulate the wand, you can change the relation of the webs to each other, and if you pick it up and hold it in various positions, you have either a flower or an umbrella, or, if you spin it, you can acquire webs again.  It’s amusing, for some reason.  Also, the pine cone leaning against the mug is made entirely of brown sea glass found on Maine islands, and gathered by the artist.

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So the craft fair. It was fun. I want credit for not coming home with the four foot knitted dragon, or any of the many hand-pets present.

Only a couple people shied away from my mixed media outfit — Steve’s leather vest over a purple mock-neck, utility jeans, and pretty silver jewelry, and one person gets a star because I had gone out to the car to get a bag after my first pass through the fair, and it had gotten warm enough that I didn’t need the vest, so I left it behind, and! when I went past this particular table on the second pass and said, “Hello, again,” she said, “I thought you looked familiar, but you were wearing a leather coat before.”

I am presently making cornbread, because I’ve been wanting cornbread for months and I know better than store-bought, and as soon as that’s done, it will become part of my mid-day meal, which I’m suspecting will be leftover chili. The afternoon will be dedicated to writing, as I have, like, three scenes in my head that are clamoring for attention.

Saw my lovely neighbors outside when I came back, and had a chat. They’re having tree work done, and I told them the story of the four ghostly arborists, so they will be calling their arborist, with whom they have a long standing relationship, and adding my trees to the list, and have him come out to take a look. Then, they screwed down a warped board on my front steps and fixed the screen door.

I have The Best Neighbors.

And! The oven just beeped. Best get the cornbread in.

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I should also give an honorable mention to the person who — and her voice was not exactly steady when she said this, “Your jewelry is very pretty.” Also! Bruce? I think it was Bruce. Who delivered Vitamin Dog with Great Gusto.

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One thousand three hundred eleven new words. Give or take. At some point, I need to get with the master file and see where that gets us in a words-to-story kind of way.

Also read +/- 50 pages of page proofs for Diviner’s Bow mmp.

The cats are at Happy Hour and I am a tired woman. Going out, seeing the neighbors, and spending money is fun, but expensive of energy. Not to mention the other stuff.

Tomorrow, I resume the get up and get writin’ schedule.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.