Tag: life after the apocalypse

What went before: Read 60 pages of I Dare, which got me to an end of a section. Wrote +/-540 new words in the WIP, which brings it to +/-65,080.

On the proofing front, I am definitely missing some of the places where there ought to be scene breaks marked, and I’m trying to figure out if I have anything around here that will serve as a guide. I’ll look at the Meisha Merlin edition, but that one had, um, many errors. I’m just not sure if spacing was one of them.

Onward.

Rook collaborated with me in an after-lunch nap; he could have gone longer, but I felt the call of duty, and went back to Steve’s office to work. Surprisingly, he fetched Tali and the two of them did the afternoon shift with me.

Trooper ate an envelope of bisque with his meds stirred in; a smol can of gooshy food, in two sessions, a couple of crunchies to keep his grandkid, Tali, company at the food bowl, and for Happy Hour, an envelope of stew and his usual serving of gooshy food.

He seems to be somewhat more alert today, OTOH, I spent most of the day in Steve’s office, and he spent most of the day asleep in my office, so we didn’t see much of each other.

Tomorrow, I believe I’ll take a couple hours off and go to Augusta. Get out of the house for a bit, see people who aren’t cats. There’s a plan.

In the meantime — everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Sunny and cool, but heading for hot.

Woken by Trooper standing on my chest at 6:00. There were three other cats in the bed, all asleep, so I turned on my side, and snuggled Trooper under me, and we all got another half-hour.

Trooper has had (most of) his morning bisque-with-meds.

I have no idea what my breakfast will be, but I have a cup of tea with me here at the desk, so there’s a start.

I will be going out to Augusta today, specifically to Michael’s, Target, and — Lowe’s? There was something I wanted at Lowe’s . . . sigh. It’ll come to me.

I got a little crazy last night just paged through the Meisha Merlin edition of I Dare and found all the scene breaks, some of which are in the page proofs, but not all. Those are now all notated and marked, so I can concentrate on the text.

Speaking of I Dare, the new Baen edition will be a trade paperback and it will drop in December.

What else? Ah. I had asked someone on Etsy to make me a thing, and she said she’d be delighted, so I wrote back and asked how we were going to handle the details, and have heard nothing else. It’s been a couple weeks, so I guess I’d better drop a note.

I’d been having an increasingly harder time listening to Devil’s Cub, which I was attributing to the narrator, so I opened the book to refresh myself, and — no, it’s not the narrator; it’s Vidal, or, rather, the whole cast.

It is permitted to be at the feet of the Divine Georgette and still prefer some of her works over others, and in fact, while I admire These Old Shades as a melant’i play, I believe I read Devil’s Cub once, exactly, and did not care for it.

(These things are matters of taste. For instance, Steve doted on The Toolbooth; which I understood as little as his dislike for Bath Tangle, which I adore.)

Anyway, I set myself to analyzing why it is that I so dislike Devil’s Cub, and I believe it is this.

In These Old Shades, we are told that Alastair is a Very Bad Man, with a Past. He had served in espionage during the late war, giving his gift for ferreting out secrets free range. We are told that he has a history with Comte St. Vier, that perhaps neither man was in what we will call “the right,” and their enmity spans a quarter century.

With the exception of One Thing, we are never shown Alastair doing any of these Very Bad Things, though we are shown that he is very possibly brilliant, and is wearied (as who among us is not) by those who are less brilliant than himself. He is sarcastic and unapproachable, and it would be hard to make a connection with such a man, except we are given, almost immediately, an intermediary between ourselves and this unlikable, perhaps evil, man. Leon, running from abuse, seeking to escape a life that can only end in tragedy, is rescued by the Duke for his own nefarious purposes, and Leon loves the Duke. We, in turn, love Leon, for his wit, his temper, his devotion, and his courage.

The Duke of Avon could ask for no better lens through which to be viewed.

Now, that One Evil Thing — His Grace of Avon sees fit to drive a man to suicide at a public party, but by the time he does this, we want that man to pay — for the evil he has visited upon Leon. It’s a masterpiece of timing, and These Old Shades is a good book and an excellent melant’i play.

Devil’s Cub makes the mistake of showing us Vidal at his worst immediately, and we are given no balancing viewpoint, save his mother’s, who may be excused for loving him, and even she knows he is “very bad,” but — he’s her son.

I’m also irritated because it’s been 24 years since These Old Shades, and Rupert, Alastair’s younger brother, who had shown some promise of growing into a Better Man if not a very intelligent one, is stuck in a permanent boyhood — still running himself off his legs, and needing to apply to Alastair for funds, and much the lesser of Vidal, who does, at least seems to possess a good pair of wits.

Since I’m using the audiobook as a sleep aid, I’ll probably continue, and I may finish reading along side of it, to see if I’m being unjust, and Georgette does manage to put everything right. I do recall thinking that Mary Challoner could have done much better.

. . . and my tea’s gone.

How’s the morning going at your place?

This morning’s blog post title is a vary on the classic sign “Gone Fishin'”