reading – Sharon Lee, Writer

Starting the day with sunshine

Monday. Sunny and already warm. All the windows are open and the cats are lounging in the breeze from the sliders in Steve’s office.

The first load of towels needs to be taken out of the dryer and the second load put in.

The area rugs and runners are outside and over the rails, taking the sun. My deck chair and table are set up and ready for use.

Regarding the deck chair. When I got it out of the closet where it overwintered, there were five springs taking shelter beneath its skirts. FIVE.

For book club, I’m reading A Gentleman in Moscow, which I’m enjoying. It strikes me that this may have been what Theo of Golden was striving for, and, err, didn’t achieve.

Since I just recently read Balance of Trade, I started Trade Secret last night, wherein I note that the Young Gentleman reveals to us The Plan. I believe that Jen Sin reviled the Young Gentleman’s clan in Salvage Right, and also said something about The Plan, which I will need to check.

Honest to ghu, this universe is tight. The authors must’ve have a million databases. *cough*.

I have a couple titles that will fit in the small blank stars on the front of the Starry Shirt, so I’m getting those ready to be embroidered.

And! I have not yet heard from D2D customer service, which is not surprising, and I really don’t expect to hear from them this week.

I believe I need to step out for a few minutes to hit the TJMaxx in-town, and also the Hannaford. P’rhaps I’ll get the car washed. I have a pass, after all.

How’s everybody doing this fine Monday morning?

And on Tuesday…

Tuesday. Sunny and cold. Haven’t gotten the trash out yet, but I’ve got time.

There have been at least a dozen rescue vehicles going screaming down the road in the last ten minutes, all heading south, and now it’s quiet. Too quiet.

. . . yeah.

The book club met yesterday afternoon at Holy Cannoli and engaged in a wide-ranging discussion, some of it . . . and there goes another one, the second attack wagon I’ve seen . . . some of it, as I was saying, about Theo of Golden, which found a more appreciative audience among the other two-thirds of the gathered readers than it found with me. Next book: A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles.

I finished formatting the Fey Duology yesterday. This does not mean it’s ready for release, but that it’s formatted. Formatting is a looooonnnngggg job, but not the only job. I’ll be getting back to the tasks remaining on the road to publication, eh. Thursday-ish.

Today? Is chores. I have two numbers for folks who fix dishwashers, so I’ll be making phone calls, and washing dishes, and changing out cat fountains. Also need to sit with Googlemaps and make sure I have my directions for Northern Solstice Alpaca Farm, since I’m not just going out for a ride, and happen to go by the alpacas, which is a handy place to pull over and take in the view.

This evening is craft group. Tomorrow morning, as above, the Great Alpaca-ing.

But, first? Breakfast. There must be something in this house for breakfast…

What did you have for breakfast?

Follow the compass that beats in your chest

Wednesday. Grey, damp, and warm.

Today is the day I was to have turned Kin Right in to Baen.

I have a bunch of clerical tasks to finish with today, so that’s what will be happening. I also need to chop and freeze onions, figure out if I can freeze lemons, and also sliced deli ham (I went a little nuts at the grocery and bought a fresh-deli pack of black forest ham and another, of baby Swiss, because damn, I miss ham sandwiches). My desire having been somewhat slaked, I realize that I had better freeze what’s left and parcel it out later.

Lunch will be a salad, on account I have lettuce, tomato, cooked potatoes, pickled beets, olives, cottage cheese, and I can have tuna, if the whim so takes me. Breakfast was ham and Swiss on whole wheat with mustard. Third mug of tea is brewing.

The cats have relocated themselves to the front of the house, which is where my office is located. No one is actually in my office with me at the moment, but all are within the sound of my keyboard.

I started reading Longeye last night, and have yet to encounter porn. I will backtrack to Duainfey briefly, reminded as I was by the audiobook company that sought out the Fey Books, signed a contract, and then pulled out, giving as their reason, and I quote: “Chapter Thirty-Seven!”

Now, Chapter Thirty-Seven is … hard. Even very hard. Or, one might say, effective. Not porn, and I contend that no one would have paled, had Our Heroine instead been multiply and terribly wounded in a gun fight, or tied to a post and whipped.

I further note that we apparently have always wanted to talk about Power’s drive to subsume and control Art/Soul/Love/Innocence.

What else?

Ah! A book came across my newsfeed — Falling Forward, which apparently discusses the Myth of Resilience. As someone who still finds herself saying at least once a day, “I can’t do this,” I’m interested in what this book has to say, and I wonder if anyone here has read it, and what you thought.

I think that’s it for the Morning Edition.

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Sail North, “Compass.”

Here, have a picture of Rookie before he jumped up into my chair in the dining room and went to sleep:

Vampyres and Technology

Tuesday. Suddenly, it’s Spring. Trash and recycling patiently awaiting pickup at the curb.

I have been to tithe the Vampyres, who have got New Technology. It had used to be that you entered the lab area, took a number and were, in the fullness of time, Called. Now! You enter your name into a tablet, and it appears on the Big Screen in the waiting area. Occasionally, the Big Screen pings brightly, and a name is shown, with directions underneath. I input my name and sat reading for some time before my name went up in lights and I was directed to Station Number Two for logging in, after which I was returned to the waiting area, this time to wait for a call-code to appear under my name on the screen. I sat down, verified that I had finish reading my book, of which more anon — and the screen went down.

I swear I had nothing to do with this. All I did was say, so that the receptionist on duty could hear, “Technology! Screen’s down.” Then, as I had finished my book, I pulled out my phone to check my mail (and the guy next to me, on the assumption that he knew all about my intentions, said, “That won’t do you any good.” Really?), the receptionist called for Olivia, who appeared to reset the screen, and my name was called to enter the lab.

Blood was drawn, the tech was interested in the symbol on my shirt (Tree-and-Dragon), I made answer, was favored with the information that the tech’s granddaughter loves science fiction and went to bookstores and belonged to a book club, and all. I offered a card so her granddaughter could look for our stuff; the asked for several to share with other book loving friends, and we parted on good terms.

I stopped at Washville on my way home and came home richer by a clean car and a subscription, so now I won’t have to hassle the card reader at the gate, which I use for an excuse to not wash the car when it’s needed. Hopefully, this circumstance, and the fact that Washville is slightly less horrifying in its methods than Golden Nozzle, may help me keep the car better.

So, Duainfey. Yep, there are a couple of tough scenes, but no porn, and the reflective arcs of story are perfectly fine. It is Dark, but, being as that’s As Advertised, this is a Feature not a Bug.

I have just finished eating a cookie with a mug of tea, and as soon as I post this missive to the internets, I’ll be making rice, which I neglected to do yesterday, and also washing the bedclothes, which likewise didn’t happen yesterday. On the bed itself, I think I need to change out the Deep Winter blanket for the waffle-weave, and! I need to write an email, do my duty the cats, find lunch, and eventually wander out to the library to get crafty.

What’ve you got going today?

Cultural Genetics

Monday. Cloudy and damp. Bed’s been stripped, towels are drying, eggs on to be boiled hard, submitted news of LUC6’s imminent publication to MWPA’s newsletter. Sea Shanties streaming. Apparently the week’s theme is Sea Shanties.

Waiting for a friend to come by and pick up a thing, after which I b’lieve I’ll wander out into the day and perform this list of errands.

Many thanks to all (on FB) who weighed in on yesterday’s discussions regarding cultural relativity.

I’m a little past the half-way point in Duainfey. Altimere’s invention has been proved, and I haven’t seen any porn yet. I do see that we were very subtle on the SF underpinings, which is to say, I knew it was a First Contact novel, and Steve knew it was a First Contact novel, but we might’ve been the only ones. Though one of course must feel for poor Charlie Mason, taken up by the Purity League for building his steam carriage. Also, Points to the authors for that very telling discussion of duty in which Altimere likens his care for Becca to her care for her horse.

What else? Not much. Oh. I’m feeling some sharper today, which tells me that not only is writing a book much more wearing using only one brain, but recovery takes longer. Information, I suppose.

How’s everybody holding up?

One of the other things roused up out of muck at the bottom of my brain relative to yesterday’s conversation — there had used to be what were called “racy” or “naughty” novels. The Night Life of the Gods by Thorne Smith is my benchmark “naughty” novel, though Topper will do in a pinch (I adore Topper; I’d read it again, if I wasn’t afraid the book will fall apart on me). It seems to me that there are no more “naughty” novels, though I’d be pleased to be proved wrong (titles, anybody?), that we have various kinds of Romances — sweet, sexy, hot, and so on — and of course we have porn, but nothing that’s just … bawdily flirtatious.

Someone in yesterday’s discussions mentioned Nick and Nora Charles, who were more flirtatious than naughty; they teased each other: elegantly, wittily, playfully, sexually. It was play, and illustrated that they each felt safe in their partnership and with each other.

One of the things that continually startles me, in my Brave New World, is how carefree (“carefree” meaning “free of care”) and playful I was able to feel, knowing that I had backup, and genuine affection in my life.

Anyhoots! The eggs are cooling, and I need to get the towels out of the dryer.

Friday wrap-up

“. . . while the Tree cheered rain-lash and lightning.”

I’m not going to remember which convention it was — aside it was a southern con — standing in the Dealer’s Room, describing this scene to Stephe Pagel, and being so very pleased with it. Stephe perhaps more befuddled than pleased, but he Lacked Context.

Also? The black dragon’s last flight . . . those kids (in their mid-50s at the time) could write a sentence or two. Yeah. Wow.

The cats are informing me that it’s Happy Hour, which it isn’t quite, yet. OTOH, a glass of wine would be welcome to the bartender, so Happy Hour it is.

Everybody stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Friday and the adventures thereof

Friday. Sunny and warm. All of the windows and the new sliders in Steve’s office are open.

I was very sluggard rising from my nest this morning, ate a lettuce, cheese, and tomato sandwich on whole wheat bread for breakfast. Went down to The! Studio! set up my grinder and ground me some glass, though not, I note, ALL the glass. I was a grownup about this, and set a timer for an hour. Sadly, some of my time was used up by having to reset the fuse I blew when I turned the grinder on. Apparently the former workshop, where there was Honest to Ghu equipment still on the benches when we toured, pre-purchase, can’t handle two electric radiators, two lights and a grinder. This may be a problem if I need to grind in the winter. We shall see.

After glass, I changed out the cat boxes, vacuumed the basement, took a nice, relaxing shower, and came out to find that FedEx has delivered my tea — someplace else. The amusing thing about this is that when you got to FedEx and tell them that they misdelivered the package? The advice is to tell the seller. Because the seller had Nothing to do with putting the package on what looks to be a pallet on roller skates someplace that isn’t here.

I did write to Upton, in hopes of either my money back, which would be said, as I really actually wanted the tea, or if they can unbend enough to send by an alternate carrier — UPS and the post office can find this house just fine — another shipment. We shall see.

Lunch, which I will begin to reheat as soon as I finish this letter to the Internets, will be leftover stir-fry. After, I fully intend to find a chair in a window and finish reading Crystal Dragon. My goodness, does Rool Tiazan have a way with a ley line.

How’s everybody doing today?

The music make her want to be the story

Important Stuff First: I saw Firefly’s tail at Full Upward Extension last night. This morning, she’s preferring half-mast, which may mean it’s hurting her still. I can give her the pain meds at noon, and will be doing so. She did come to snuggle with me when I thought I was going to get up this morning, so we stayed in bed a little longer, talking about how scary That Whole Thing was and how was she feeling now, and articles I’d read about dogs who’d broken their tails and had to get them amputated before there was Serious Damage gone to their spines, and how I’d been really, really scared that she’d gotten cancer wrapped around her spine like her Aunt Sprite, and — well. We promised each other not to do this again.

A little later, she joined me for our sitting-in-the-sunlight session.

Yesterday afternoon, I made an appointment to walk an alpaca at Northern Solstice Farm in a couple weeks. There will be a meet ‘n greet with the alpaca who agreed to walk with me that day, who will already have donned halter and lead, then an approximately 30 minute stroll either around the farm, or, if conditions aren’t too squishy, on a trail through the woods. Now I remember why I have hiking boots. I’m really looking forward to this, and glad I didn’t let myself talk myself out of it.

Other than that, and actually related to the alpaca walk, I’m trying to unfold myself — which is to say, to find the way back out of my head after the Intense Concentration required to finish Kin Right on time and correctly. Steve would have had us out and about, walking up and down the world, breathing the air, taking photographs, eating out, and striking up conversations with strangers chance-met on beaches, in train stations, or in stores.

I . . . am not that ambitious, left to myself, and the timing’s a little unfortunate, as I find it’s Easter weekend (how did that happen?). So, unfolding will take the shape of puttering around, straightening up, making hummus, blowing the dust off of my poor, abandoned glass project, maybe finding another movie/tv show to lightly binge, and planning a ride for next Wednesday or Thursday, when the weather is expected to be warmer and sunny.

The secret of writing is that you can’t write all the time. So — aside an infodump, and blog posts, no Writing here at the Confusion Factory for the next bit.

Reading, though . . . I’ve finished reading Balance of Trade, and also Theo of Golden. I’m about half-way through Seeking Persephone, and after that? Crystal Soldier. Speaking of literary whiplash.

And I think that catches us up.

Here’s a picture of Firefly, from this morning’s sunshine session:

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Dire Straits, “Skateaway“

So you want to be a writer…

So, where are we? Ah. Friday. Cloudy and colder than the last couple days. Haircut scheduled for this afternoon; before that, more reading of Kin Right.

Drafted “Melant’i Refresher for Terrans” to go into the front of Kin Right, pointing to the Cast of Characters in the back. Was reminded in so doing about the dog who was our outfielder back when I was eight or so and playing pick-up baseball at the local rec center. We couldn’t keep the dog off the field, so we made him The Outfielder. He fielded for both sides instead of batting. Helluva outfielder, that dog.

What else?

Rookie got locked in the bedroom closet, and missed breakfast. He’s making up for that now.

I think that’s all I’ve got, really. The Exciting Life of a Writer, ayuh.

What’re you doing that’s exciting today?
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Tali helping me edit in the Command Chair

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So, Kathy talked me out of a buzz cut. After the new ‘do, I walked over to Holy Cannoli and bought two lemon-blueberry ricotta cheese cookies — one just eaten with a mug of tea, and one for tomorrow. I really ought to learn how to make ricotta cheese cookies. Or, yanno, maybe safer not to.

Rook is sleeping in the copilot’s chair at my desk (as different from Steve’s desk), while I take my first stab at a list of characters for Kin Right. This? Is going to be An Undertaking.

Next book, I swear — one character and nothing happens to them.

I have about 100 pages to read in Kin Right, then 200 pages to enter correx into, then finishing up with the cast of characters and so on. The end, as the saying goes, is in sight.

I’m a little less than half-way through Theo of Golden, and the next meeting of the book club is April 20. I did finish reading Balance of Trade, and I’m going to have to take a step back and given some thought to my reading strategy here. If I’m going to be re-issuing the fey books, I’m going to need to read them, so I may have to break off the Liaden read-through for that. In the meantime, books I preordered last year when I foresaw oodles of time to read — are starting to download.

Whee…

Well. It’s good to have things to do, amirite?

New haircut:

Reading Past to Present

Tuesday. Sunny and cold. I should get the trash and recycling to the curb — and I will! But right now it’s too cold for your friendly neighborhood author to move. Also the driveway is a sheet of ice, so I’ll have to put the ice grippers on my shoes.

Right now, I’m talking to you and drinking chocolate chai tea with half-and-half.

Early question from last night’s post! “Haven’t those guys ever read anything but SF?”

SHORT ANSWER: Dunno, but — it’s possible.

LONG ANSWER: I’ve talked about this before, and I’ll preface the following iteration by saying that I’m not trying to police anyone’s reading habits. Reading fiction is a relaxation. I’m not gonna tell you what beer to drink, either.

That said, and recalling that Local Custom, Scout’s Progress, and Mouse and Dragon file under SF — back when I was an eggling, It. Was. Not. Possible. to only read SF. Even someone who reads slower than I do had to read in a variety of genres, and while that doesn’t mean that people not so inclined had to read romance books (which, BTW, did not exist in today’s form), they did have to stretch their minds somewhat to encompass the protocols demanded by other genres. Maybe not by much, if they stuck to SF, and SF’s first cousin, pornography; action novels, war stories — but still broader than some people read today.

Because today, it is not only possible to only read SF, it’s also possible to only read the teensy, tiny subgenre that you prefer above all others. You never have to read fiction that makes you even the smallest bit uncomfortable, or offers you the opportunity to think a New Thought, or to practice a confusing scenario that that you might well face in RL.

Back in The Day, we were also taught to read. That is, we weren’t just taught the words and cut loose. We read out loud in school and answered questions. Now, I learned to read in a Catholic School, (an inaccuracy of its kind, but bear with me) and our primers chronicled the adventures of … Ann and David, I believe. They were teaching stories and had rather heavy-handed morals. And after we read each little adventure, Sister would ask us — Why did Ann do That Thing? Why was David worried? What did Mother say that you should all remember?

And I very much fear that the kind of reading lesson where children are taught to engage with the text, with the characters, and think about what the words mean, is a thing of the past, as well.

So! My tea’s gone. I think I’ll go rustle up some oatmeal.

Everybody have a good day.