life after the apocalypse – Page 39

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:

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?
* * *
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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

Friday evening

What Went Before ONE: So back from the grocery store where I bought too much food. Or possibly I mean I spent too much money on food.

Turkey chili is on the stove, that being: 8 ounces of turkey, which was the last two turkey “burgers” I’d frozen backaways, a can of black beans, drained, an aseptic pack of crushed tomato, a can of diced tomato, two BIG handfuls of spinach, onion, garlic, green pepper, paprika, ginger, Worcestershire sauce, chili, and something called “Tsardust.” It’s all in Steve’s BIG spider with a cover on, and it can perk for Awhile.

A couple days ago, I got my shiny new Pine! Tree! license plates in the mail. They were addressed to Steve Miller, though the car is listed in my name first (Steve insisted that this be so, and at the time I wondered why…). I don’t suppose it’s a big deal, as long as I keep paying the excise tax and keep it in fighting trim.

Tali was very interested in my chopping and mixing and playing with the stove. She exhausted now, poor child, and sprawled on the supply dresser in the window, asleep.

As I was out and about today, I heard “Pleasant Valley Sunday,” courtesy of Phlash Phelps on the 60s channel. Now, I have always thought “Pleasant Valley Sunday” was a bit mean-spirited, especially for the Monkees, but today it really got up my nose. Possibly because I rejoice in my rosebush, and my lawn gets cut, and I’m living in what was, when it was first conceived, a posh, out-of-downtown development. Though I grant this house looks like no other house I’ve seen.

Anyhow — an update. Maybe I go throw that load of laundry in the washer while I’m waiting for the … whatever it is to cook down.

How’s everybody doing?

What Went Before TWO: So that was edible, and not over-spiced at all, which I had been afraid I had taken my vengeance too far. I have leftovers, but that’s not awful. I declare a win.

And! A dilemma has opened before me. There’s a craft fair practically in my back yard tomorrow. It would be Wrong not to attend, so I’ll be goofing off for at least a little while tomorrow.

And As the Sun Goes Down: Why look. The page proofs for the Diviner’s Bow mass market just landed. Due back at Baen on October 14.

To be perfectly honest, I had Totally Lost Track of the fact that there would of course be a mass market edition of Diviner’s Bow coming up RSN. Oh! At the end of January, says Amazon.

Well. I just finished a book last night, so I guess I know what I’m reading next.

In other news, I still need to do the dishes, but! I did hang the tube lights in Steve’s office; and that should help with the winter time visibility in there. In order to do this, I have to move a picture to a whole ‘nother location in the house, which was . . . fairly upsetting. Not as upsetting as the picture falling off the wall, however. Incrementally, we proceed. . .

So! Do the dishes in the sink. Clear the dishwasher of the clean dishes. Print Diviner’s Bow (yes, really; I am a Child of Paper). Take a shower. Serve Up Happy Hour, put together a sandwich for the evening meal. Have a glass or two of wine. Read. Go to bed.

Tomorrow, indeed, I will go to the craft fair for a bit, and then I’ll come home and do some work. At least the business stuff has been cleared, so I can concentrate writing and writing adjacent tasks.

And on that note — everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Spread it around

Friday. Cloudy and cool for now, but going for the mid-70sF, with sun. Last night the skies opened several times, which the cats did not favor. They all came and sat on top of me and demanded that I make it stop.

Eventually, it did stop, but I did I get credit for deploying my Meteorological Super Powers? I did not.

Breakfast was PB&J on whole wheat English Muffin. Lunch will be something hopefully edible made with the leftover ground turkey.

NOTE TO SELF: Never buy ground turkey again. No, never. It’s just ghastly.

Today is a House Day. First up, Grocery. Second, the above Turkey Challenge. Third, vacuums deployed. Fourth, maybe today I can hang the tube of lights in Steve’s office, seeing as how Winter is Coming. Maybe I’ll throw in a load of laundry, because I can.

I may do some more business catch up, but writing will resume tomorrow.

I want to take a moment to celebrate the “spreader” I purchased at Now You’re Cooking in Bath last Friday. I bought it because it was blue and wooden and pretty and fit nicely in my hand, and not because I thought it would be in any way useful.

Backstory: Once upon a time, I used to be able to butter bread, but somewhere down the years I lost that complex ability. I mean, yes, I can get a splotz of butter on a piece of bread and more or less move it around, but any attempt to coat the bread evenly is doomed to failure, or a holed slice, and frustration, either way. This is *especially* poignant when one is trying to make a restorative grilled cheese sandwich (I mean, yes, I could use mayo, and have, but it’s Not The Same, and last night I really felt I needed The Real Thing).

So, last night, in pursuit of that grilled cheese sandwich, and coming once again face flat against my shortcoming, I said aloud, as I not infrequently do, “Why won’t you just spread?” And then? It came to me in a flash. I had just purchased a “spreader.” I fetched it out of the drawer, took a deep breath, and applied it to the butter on the bread.

It. Was. A. Miracle.

The butter went over the bread in a smooth, even coating; the slices remained intact, and — I cannot praise this implement highly enough, and I will be using it for all of my butter-spreading, henceforth.

Also? The grilled cheese sandwich really did the job. Aside the Cat March Against Downpours, the evening was pleasant and calm.

And that’s what passes for adventure around here. What adventures are you having?

Picture of the magic spreader, table knife for comparison:

Also! Friday morning cat census:

And I’ll know my song well before I start singin’

What went before: Coon cat happy hour has been served, and I’ve brought a glass of wine with me back to the desk.

I managed to put out the worst of the business-side fires, but I still have a pretty big stack of stuff on the physical desk, which I should at least sort through so I even know what’s there.

So, I’ll be doing some sorting, then remembering to eat something, and eventually going to bed.

The plan for tomorrow is to get up, write, do my duty to the cats, and go to the grocery store in-between writing and business. We are the Queen of Split Second Timing, We Are.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Thursday Morning Supervisor:

Thursday. Raining and chilly. A trip to the grocery store will not be happening today. Tomorrow, an it snows a blizzard, I will have to do the grocery shopping.

Got up early (breakfast was cream cheese and the last of the grapes), took my cup of tea to the back and booted up the writing machine. This morning, it took me a while to get into the writing groove. I blame last night’s prolonged panic attack in which I was wrestling with the fact pressure of too many things! Too few hands! And Just Get It Done doesn’t work anymore.

OK. Just Get It Done only ever worked because the one of us who was overwhelmed pulled in the other, and we shuffled around needed tasks, and chose which other tasks to ignore until the crisis cleared and then both put our shoulders to the edge of the crisis and pushed.

Which, I guess, would be my point.

I did eventually manage +/- 1,240 new words, and cleaned the cat boxes and took a walk, and now I need to rustle something to eat so I can proceed with the business portion of the program.

I do wonder why I can’t share posts to groups from my phone anymore. I used to be able to do that — as recently as, like, last week. Now, my phone wants me to add things to “my story,” which was ON by default, because of course it was. It’s off now. I think.

Here, have a Snippet:

Val Con finished his tea and waved the pot away when she lifted it.

“Some of this is because it is a very young tree, still, though it was transitioning for centuries. Also, it was born to be a hero, to draw enemy attention away from the Exodus.” He slid from stool to deck and gave her a smile.

“And some portion of the matter is because it is a tree, and it remembers that, once, dragons had served it.”

Today’s blog post title comes to you from Mr. Robert Zimmerman, writing and singing as Bob Dylan, from back before music went all political. “It’s a hard rain gonna fall.”

Anything Can Happen Day, and it had better NOT

What went before: . . .it is too much; I will sum up. Yesterday, I visited the vampyres, who tithed me two vials, which was enough to make me sick and dizzy for the rest of the day, so nothing of note got done, unless you count new ways to be annoyed with life.

Wednesday. Rainy and chilly.

Especially chilly in Steve’s office with the gaping windows that I wish he would have told me about. But, new windows — actually doors — are coming, so that was a decision well-made.

For those keeping track at home, I’m feeling much better. OTOH, I’ve said that before. . .

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries. Lunch will be a chicken burger with a side salad. I have a lot of work to do on the business side of things, so this afternoon will be, um, busy. I do not think I will get to the grocery store today. I’m hoping tomorrow afternoon.

This morning, I wrote +/-1,870 new words. I’m starting to worry that this is going to be a very long book. The only length stipulation in our contracts is “at least 100,000 words,” so I’m taking that as, “Write ’til it’s Done.”

Big IRL victory, here! The FedEx guy actually put the Heavy Box o’cat litter in the garage. I mean, it was done in a surly fashion — dropped directly behind the car and at the very edge of the paving, so I’d be sure to run over it if I hadn’t noticed it was there before backing out. However, I did notice it, and used the push broom to scoot it safely further under shelter, and to one side, so all’s well and all like that.

The cats have been very attentive. Firefly took a half-shift while Tali and Rook attended me in Steve’s office. She accompanied me to the back when I came out to fetch my third cup of tea.

I really don’t have much else to offer. Yesterday was awful, and I am very tired of things that shouldn’t be a problem suddenly being a problem. *shakes fist at Getting Old*

Even though I installed my wordbook in the place where the native wordbook had been on Steve’s computer, LibreOffice is still not accessing them. I mean, it shows me that they’re all turned on, but unless I’m typing unusually well, it’s just not bothering to cross check. Well. Something else for the to-do list.

How’s everybody doing, here at the center of the week?

Hard at work on a rainy day: