Tag: life after the apocalypse

Catching up Thursday with a dash of Friday, too

So, yesterday went a little pear-shaped. I had planned on an all-writing day, but Real Life intervened, which meant I got a couple hours of writing done, plus my duty to the cats, plus some little bit of embroidery while listening to Chanur’s Venture. I did chat a bit on Facebook, mostly about cats. To wit:

Answering the question that went past and now I can’t find it again: Is Tali the biggest Maine coon currently in house?

The contestants are:
Firefly, calico — 6 years, 11 lbs
Tali, orange tabby — 4 years, 13 lbs
Rook, black– 2 years, 13 lbs

Ladies and gentlebeings, we have a tie!

Biographical notations:
Firefly is petite, for a Maine Coon. She’s also an adult, by Maine Coon reckoning, and the most retiring of the present lot of supervisors. She’s affectionate, but easily overwhelmed, and can frequently be seen thinking. It is well to recall that Firefly has taken . . . many losses: Belle, Steve, Sprite, and Trooper.

Tali is the most compact of the three; when she lands on your lap, you know you’ve been landed on. She is the supervisor who demands the most lap-time. Very bossy, our Tali.

Rook is a growing boy; easily distracted, very affectionate, and scary smart. He and Tali have formed a partnership — he keeps time and she registers the complaint.

More about Maine Coon growth stages here.

The above led to the question of which was the largest Maine coon we had owned, to which I answered: You know? I’m not sure. Hex(apuma) was pretty big, but lanky. I thought Mozart–our first Maine Coon–was Ginormous when I first saw him. I think he might’ve clocked in at 14 or 15 pounds. Trooper was 17 pounds FORever, and in her heyday Belle had a pound on two on him. Sprite was right around 15 pounds. To put all of this into perspective, a Bichon Frise (aka “the little white dog everybody has”–I finally asked someone what breed her dog was) will weigh between 12 and 15 pounds.

This answer led to the evergreen But I thought Maine Coon cats were HUGE! To which I answered: Breed standard for Maine Coons is females 12-15 pounds, males 18-22. So, yeah, I guess I’ve had small Maine Coons. Given that domestic cats average from 8-12 pounds, that’s big enough.

Maine Coon breed standards here.
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All of which leads us handily into today, which I believe to be Friday–sunny and going to be warm-but-not-hot.  Tomorrow, we’re looking for the rainy rags of the nor’easter that’s been plaguing downcoast to arrive.

I had flat egg and Swiss cheese on homemade bread for breakfast, I am updating my blogs while I drink my third cup of tea, and will shortly be moving back to Steve’s office to accomplish some work on the WIP. For lunch, I have my choice of warming up a pre-cooked pork chop with … I think there’s carrots left over, or warming up leftover chicken pot pie.

Not a particularly ambitious day, but mine own.

And hoping yours is enjoyable.

Reading the past

The coon cats were keeping a Very Close Eye this morning.  Photographic proof here

Wednesday. Sunny, clear, and cool.

The misdelivered box came home this morning. The heat pump situation has been rectified and a tutorial received. I’ve read 150 pages/24,000ish words of an incomplete Jethri novel which I think was being set up to explain why Jethri’s genes were all over Spadoni Station in “Revolutionists,” with a side of Shakespeare. Written in 2020.

The bit I remembered is part of the Spadoni Station/Shakespeare fragment (if you can call a quarter-book a “fragment”), and while it could be hammered into what I’m working on, I think it will better serve as what’s nowadays called a “short novel” (Remember when ALL novels were 50,000 words? Yeah, yeah, and cost 25 cents.). It won’t be canon, but we’ve done this before. So! This bit gets put aside for later finishing and publication through Pinbeam Books.

I still have 37,000ish words to read of yet another “failed” piece — this one recognizably coming off of Fair Trade, written in September 2022. Fair Trade was published in May 2022.

Just for fun, I also have 3700ish words of a short story, that I wrote in November 2001, passed to Steve, and it got set aside in the Press of Other Business. What in Ghu’s name were we even doing in November 2001? We were still with Meisha Merlin, and Balance of Trade wasn’t published until 2004. Why was Jethri even — oh, wait. “Balance of Trade,” the novella, would have already been published in Absolute Magnitude. That’s why Jethri was even, and makes more sense of the story, too. We were thinking ahead, as we tended to do. Anyhow, I’ve only glanced at it, not really read it. Might be able to be finished without too much trauma, if I get enough flex in the rest of life.

Pay copy comes first.

The rest of today is, alas, chores.

I finished reading The Glass-Cursed last night — it’s a cozy, I guess, because the decision was made to let the Group Handle It, rather than allow one of their number to take the whole cost of the thing onto herself, despite her part in having created the problem in the first place. “Many hands make the work light,” and also “Grace to those who fought.” I did finish it, but it was starting to wear on me after a bit, which I means that, for me, it could’ve been shorter. Also, there are serious timing problems at the end when the characters don’t seem to know if something took two days or seven months, and the Really Important Question of How a certain thing got produced, given that there’s no X, and also Y is completely ignored.

I started the book club book at lunch, The Burgess Boys, by Elizabeth Strout, partially set in Shirley Falls, Maine, which is big enough to have a hotel, so it can’t actually be set in Skowhegan, which was where my mind went.

And that? Is all my news.

What’s yours?

Collaboration

Tuesday. Sunny and cool.

Today’s writing was chasing down partials and half-remembered notes from Steve’s side of his computer. I had a couple of bad minutes when I thought I was going to have to drag out his old Windows machine and do a forced march through that hard-drive, but just when the night seemed darkest, I found the piece I was looking for.

Which, as it happens, is not, as Steve had insisted at the time, wrong; it was just in the wrong place. This happens a lot, especially in the writing of novels. Which is why you might take That Piece There out of the active file, but you never throw it away.

Having found the files, I have some reading to do, but that’s for tomorrow. For today, I’ve spent every available spoon going through Steve’s indexes, which was a reminder–yet again–that, no, we didn’t think alike–and that’s why we worked.

Ah–there will be some, I suppose, who will wonder why I’m ferreting out these bits and pieces–surely, it would be easier to “just” write on in a forwarder direction? And, yanno? Maybe it would be. But this was Steve’s book, and God She knows he broke not a few brain cells on the thing, and it’s my intention to tell the story he intended–he wanted–to tell. Insofar as I can, being as we didn’t think alike, but I’m the one left standing.

In so-called Real Life, the heat pump in my bedroom seems to be On Da Fritz, so I’ll be calling the heat pump company in a few to see what they can do for me.

This evening is needlework, which I really want to go to. I skipped last week because my back wasn’t up for the chairs.

And that would be the contents of my brain on this fine morning.

What’s filling up your brain today?

Wobbling into Monday

Monday. Cool and cloudy. Mixed night and slow morning. The cats piled in and did what they could, last night, and finally set their purrboxes on auto so at least they could get some sleep.

I perhaps forgot to mention that one of Hannah Pingree’s workers stopped by yesterday afternoon — Hannah Pingree being the Democrat running for Maine governor. Said worker asked what my outlook was, and kind of sighed and nodded when I said “pessimistic.” We talked very briefly about was I going to vote, and did I want any literature, or perhaps a lawn sign. I mentioned that my house is made of windows, and she nodded, and went on her way.

In-house news includes the fact that the light bulb went out in the refrigerator, and the one-size-fits-all-GE-fridges manual is not being very helpful. I think I’ve found the latch for the light cover, but I haven’t quite worked out how to get it off–it’s either lack of hand strength or lack of the correct latch, and it would be nice to know which. In the meantime, Steve did lay in quite a number of flashlights, so it’s not like I can’t function. On the freezer side, the light still comes on, but the ice maker has truly died the death, so I’ve been making ice by hand and using the handy bin to stockpile it. The cold-making equipment is still doing its thing, so that’s good.

Book club in a couple hours and! I need to make some phone calls, so I’d best do that.

How’s the week starting out at your place?

Sunday wrap-up

So, that was a little more harrowing than I thought it would be. I’ve deleted thousands of emails–which would feel like more of an accomplishment if there weren’t thousands more to sift through. I finally managed to stop automatic payments on the last two of Steve’s accounts that had automatic payments, and got caught up with various bits of bookkeeping that I had let slide because — I don’t know? Because everything’s pointless? Something like that. Though bookkeeping, of course, is never pointless.

I finished listening to The Paladin and have Pride of Chanur lined up in the audiobook library. Still reading The Glass Cursed, and starting to get a little grumpy with it, but the voice is still interesting enough to keep me reading.

The “spaghetti” was good for lunch. Rook is insisting that it IS TOO Coon Cat Happy Hour RIGHT NOW. Alas that Rook is incorrect.

Tomorrow is book club. I guess I should stop at the grocery while I’m out, since the milk went over today, and I seem to be out of fruit, not to mention running low on wine. Also, I need to check the state of the ice cream supply. Won’t do to run out of the essentials.

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

Sunday morning IRL

Important things first:  Proofs of life, with coon cats here

Sunday. Dim and cool enough that I switched station air to “heat.”

I also put another blanket on the bed, ably assisted by the girl cats, who are now resting atop their labors.

Breakfast was a couple slices of last night’s baking and a cup of cottage cheese. I’m thinking lunch will be left-over macaroni dressed with red sauce, served with meatballs, which I’ll be calling “spaghetti,” thank you.

Today–or at least this morning–I will be catching up with all the emails and other business I’ve been ignoring for the last two weeks, and cleaning out my inbox of Stuff, which just keeps accumulating.

I have Notions about my two problems with the current WIP, but they need some time to themselves, hence today’s curriculum of tidying up IRL.

Rook is currently on duty in my office, positioned so that the warm air from the heat pump is flowing down on him.

I think that’s all the news that’s fit to print.

What’s for lunch at your house today?

Disambiguation

I seem to have confused people. Herewith, an attempt at disambiguation:

The book that was written and turned in to Baen in October 2024 was Diviner’s Bow (sequel to Ribbon Dance), which was published in hardcover, audio, and ebook editions on, appropriately enough, April 1 2025. The mass market edition was published in January 2026.

The book that people are wondering where the hell is the damned thing is Kin Right (sequel to Salvage Right), which was turned in to Baen in April 2026, and will, according to Baen, be published in Spring 2027.

The book presently under construction is Trade Lanes (sequel to Fair Trade), which is years overdue. I don’t actually seem to have a firm delivery date for this title, but I’m shooting for April 2027, that being a year from my last turn-in date.

After that, I have one more book under contract with Baen, which, I suppose, will be due in April 2028.

In answer to other questions posed here and there: No, I haven’t “given up” on writing short stories. I have a couple short stories and maybe two not-Liaden books swirling around in my brain, but! The Lee-and-Miller Writing Empire is short-staffed, and the House Rule has ever been: Pay Copy Comes First.

Here ends the disambiguation.

Saturday with writing and bread

Saturday. Sunny and cool.

Wrote about 600 words this morning, and discovered that I twitched something that I should’ve tweaked, so I printed out the offending pages and will sit with them later to try to untangle the he-said/she-said.

Since I’m down to my last two slices of bread, I’m baking a loaf, which is in for its first rise. I’ve cleaned up the kitchen. Still need to perform my duty to the cats.

Nothing much else doing, except the observation that it’s apparently Tali’s afternoon to keep me Under Surveillance. Either that, or she just likes to watch bread being put together.

Oh. The question of When Can We Buy Kin Right, which has come up three or four times in the last week.

ANSWER: The last I heard from Baen was that Kin Right would be published in “Spring 2027.” So now everybody knows as much as I do.

Also! It’s “taking so long” because I needed 18 months, instead of our usual year, to write it, which meant I turned it in to Baen in April 2026, instead of October 2025.

The reason I had to “take so long” to write it is because my co-author died in February 2024, and the September 2024 delivery date for that book (Diviner’s Bow) had in actuality not been extended, as I had thought it had been, which meant that I had to scramble hard to turn it in on time, or, rather, only a little late. Which in turn meant that I was exhausted, and that Creative Well we all talk about was dry and I needed some down time before I pulled the next rabbit out of my hat. Files under “Writers are Human.”

I think that really is all.

How’s Saturday going at your place?

Friday

Friday. Sunny and warm enough.

Sarah has been and gone, leaving a clean house in her wake. I’ve washed and dried the towels, folded and put them away. There’s a load of t-shirts washing and supper’s in the stove.

One thousand four hundred thirty new words written this morning. Turns out the 300 words I wrote yesterday were good; they were just in the wrong place. WIP now weighs in at 61,310. Ish.

The cats joined me in Steve’s office this morning, and there they all still are, melty-sleeping in the sun puddles.

Currently reading The Glass-Cursed by P.H. Blackwood, which has an interesting voice, and seems to want to talk about PTSD and the accommodations demanded by Real Life of those returning from a war. This is, I note, a Cozy Fantasy.

I’m listening to The Paladin by CJ Cherryh.

Which improbably reminds me that, now that I’ve viewed Murderbot in one mad rush, I need to cancel my subscription to Apple-TV before it flips over from free to pay me.

It looks like my weekend’s free, and I’m tempted to drive down to the ocean. Only, my back still hurts, so — maybe not. Well. There’s always a book to write.

Who’s got Plans for the weekend?

Boldness is all

Thursday. Dim, damp, and cool.

I am returned from mammogram and breakfast. Planning on making cinnamon bread later in the day, but first, I at least ought to go back to Steve’s office and see what’s going on with Jethri.

Many thanks to those who offered the information that their PCPs have told them that they won’t need mammograms after 75. As a breast cancer so-far survivor, I’m thinking mammograms are going to remain a part of my life, no matter the birthday.

I watched all 10 episodes of Murderbot Season One yesterday afternoon, so obviously I found them worth viewing. I think the books are funnier, and I can see how the — adapters? Is that what we call people who make books into shows? — the adapters felt like they needed to bludgeon viewers over the head with the secondary Trust Crisis, and twist tails with the Narrow Escape of the POV(tm), but those decisions didn’t work that well for me. Though it did give Gurathin room to grow into his next level (which he also does in the books, but it’s a more subtle process).

I did like the glimpses into Actual Episodes of “Sanctuary Moon,” and the decision to capitalize on the lessons Murderbot took from the show. I did, perhaps unworthily, think that the adapters ought to have put their entire attention on producing “Sanctuary Moon” — which I would totally watch — because they were clearly having way too much fun with it.

And now? Back to the office to see if I’m working today.

Who else is planning on baking today?