Tag: the writing life

In which Sunday is Monday

What went before: Um. I read 100 pages of I Dare today, and wrote no new words. I haven’t read I Dare for more than a decade, so I hope I may be excused for laughing at Younger We’s bon mots and pretty sentences (“Ah, I understand! A sacrifice upon the altar of duty! How like Shan, to be sure!”) (They were Liadens, right enough, with the pretty cantra pieces dandled like candies ’tween their slender elvish fingers and sweet words of flattery in their mouths.)

Trooper ate an envelope of bisque, most of a smol can of tuna and gravy, an envelope of stew and a spoonful of seafood in gravy for Happy Hour. Also, I saw him take at least two, and maybe four crunchies out of the buffet.

I ate meatballs in ginned up red sauce, with beans and rice. I have leftovers. They’re not hideous. Win.

As soon as I finish up here, I need to go fold the towels and put them away, and then find something to eat again. Jeez.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

/S/u/n/d/a/y Monday, sunny and getting warm, thus late in the day. Windows in my office are open, but that’s probably not for long, now.

Yeah, woken up before six because Trooper was getting sick in the hallway. Better than alarm clock, the sound of a cat barfing.

Breakfast was a slice of raisin bread, toasted and two cups of tea. I should’ve done better, but — not awake. Washed my face and carried my second cup of tea back to Steve’s office, where I commenced in to reading I Dare.

Y’know what? This is a great book. Yes, I’m saying it, as shouldn’t. Everybody should buy it (yes, yes — choir, preach). It should go into every Little Free Library on the planet, and in every public library. I dunno who these guys were who wrote it, but boy they knew their stuff. It probably shouldn’t get awards, because then nobody would read it, and it really deserves to be read.

Taking a break now to do banking — the April royalties have landed, which we see are continuing to shrink — and to feed Trooper half a smol can of gooshy food, which he ate, so yay. Getting ready to go downstairs and do my duty to the cats, and take a walk, then back to reading.

Ah, someone, somewhere asked why the heck I’ve gotta be reading a book that had already been published. Surely, there are no errors to catch.

ROFLMAO

About that. There aren’t many (that I’ve caught) this time — but, aside a couple of smushed-together words, and some missing itals, the Big Problem with this iteration is! Spacing issues. Scene breaks are missing entirely, which is … disconcerting, and yanks the reader out of the story, so, yeah, those have to be fixed.

And! Why is there a different cover? What was wrong with the Other Cover?

Um, well — it’s a new edition. And, yanno, some people didn’t like the Other Cover, so this gives them a second chance to like a cover.

ANYhow.

How’s everybody doing today?

Flirty Rookie:

My beacon’s been moved under moon and star

What went before ONE: All righty, then! Duty to the cats accomplished; walk walked; vacuuming and mopping done; grapes and cheese had for second breakfast; realized that every word I wrote yesterday is unnecessary, sigh, though the exercise did demonstrate what was necessary. Next up is my lunch, which will be a frozen box, because that’s exactly how ambitious I’m feeling.

I did not put my latest embroidery into my book — won’t fit for one thing. Instead, I sewed it to the hoop and hung it in the bedroom, where I’ll be able to see the Ribbons every day.

People want to know where I got the pattern, answering being “From a friend who was reducing her stash by increasing mine.” But! If you search of “Tales from the Hoop” you will find the Etsy shop from which it was purchased.

Trooper nagged me for food throughout all of the above, and I did serve him, but he’s not actually eating food today, just ordering it.

The weatherbeans that it’s 82F outside and the AQI is 154. We are, yes, on Station Air.

This has been your mid-day check-in.

What went before TWO: I have no idea how many new words I wrote today. Somewhere north of 1,390, but since I had to frog a scene — like I said: no idea.

The WIP entire now weighs in at +/-64,540.

In Other News, the page proofs for the anniversary edition of I Dare (first published by Meisha Merlin in February 2002) have landed and need to be back to the publisher by August 12. It’s printing out even as I type this.

Word production on the WIP may slow somewhat. Also? Reading I Dare at this juncture is going to be Interesting in several ways.

I Dare of course was the seventh book of the seven book series Steve and I had initially intended to write, and is also the book that introduces Theo Waitley.

Good thing I bought ahead on Irish Breakfast Tea.

We have entered the Time-Space Continuum known as Coon Cat Happy Hour, so I’ll be getting up to serve in a minute.

Trooper has begged for food constantly today, and rejects all but bisque. He has eaten three envelopes of bisque, so that’s at least something. I am . . . not quite very worried. Not quite.

And on that note — everybody stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

What went before THREE: Oh, Skydance’s conditions-of-sale guarantees actually helps me make sense of the farewell monologue from the host of After Midnight, in which she says she had honestly expected that the network would replace the host, not shut down the show. But the show’s executive producer was Stephen Colbert, and the host was a female stand-up comic about whom I know nothing, but that is, honestly, Just Me. She seemed very genuine in her opening remarks, including the thanks to her team and her guests and educating the audience in exactly how much work goes into putting on a show every. single. day. She remarked several times that people had said she was the only person who could have pulled this show off, and that, no, there were many many talented people who could have done it, some of whom she had been certain would be tapped for her replacement. (To be clear: she had decided, after two years, to leave TV and go back to her True Calling, doing live Stand Up, so she tendered her resignation, believing she would be replaced as host.)

It’s an interesting commentary. You can find it on Youtube.

But, Skydance! Skydance, as part of the conditions of sale has sworn to root out those in the former Paramount/CBS organization who are female, disabled, mean or sarcastic to little men with no souls, and abolish wokeness in all its flavors.

And, yanno, that’s not scary at all.

Is it?

Sunday. Sunny, breezy, and not warm yet. My office windows are open for the cats, but I expect I’ll have to go to Station Air mid-morning. We still stand, or, yanno, sit, beneath an Active Air Quality Alert. Apparently a Dark Plume of Particulates is extending itself over the region. Huzzah.

I slept for 7 hours and 44 minutes, it says here. Trooper did not smack me in the face, once. I attribute this miracle to sleeping with the covers pulled over my head, which was made possible by the cpap machine. Finally I find a good side to the damned device.

I’ve been kinda mooching around since I got up, doing the Sunday Slow Rise. It’s been . . . different. Different is good, I’m told.

Breakfast was homemade whole wheat toast, cottage cheese, and grapes. Lunch will be I Have No Idea. I will say that my experiment of meatballs and red sauce over bread the other day proved that this concept, um, needs work. Sadly, I have meatballs and red sauce left over — and absolutely no motivation to eat it.

As mentioned last night, the page proofs for the “anniversary” edition of I DARE (tradepaper, it says here, and I’ve written for confirmation that this is so), have landed. That’s 433 pages and 16 days, which means I need to Absolutely Read 27 pages a day. I’ll try for 50, because that will give me wiggle room, in case the sky falls and I can’t read one day.

Because my office is in Middle of Book Chaos, I’ll be setting the proofreading project up in Steve’s office, which ought to confuse the cats, so that’s worth doing.

So, recapping — Today’s to-do includes one’s duty to the cats, finding something to eat for lunch, proofing 50 pages of I Dare, and, should there be time and brain power, writing new words.

How’s your Sunday treating you?

Today’s blog post title courtesy of Golden Earring, “Twilight Zone.”

For rosebush fans, proof of life:

Tired writer is tired

What went before ONE: So many kindred Rock Spirits! That’s So Cool.

Trooper has had another half can of “in gravy” — seafood mix, I think — licked up all the gravy and ate about half the food. Yesterday, I would have sworn he was on Death’s door step.

What do I know?

I did clip his claws, so hopefully no more face scratches, though honestly I would prefer not to get smacked by an importunate cat at 6 am at all.

I have placed stickers on the back window of my car, which display my Affiliations. On the left, the Hubble Space Telescope sticker given me by Lauretta Nagel. And on the right, a cat fish sticker — which is to say a cat that has really lovely koi-like fins and tail.

Funny story about that. I had a tshirt from Balticon 37, where Steve and I were Writer GOHs and Sheila and Omar Rayyan were Artist GOHs. The tshirt was of a catfish — aka, a cat with a fish tail, and I loved it so much I wore it out. But before that day came, I was wearing it when we went down to Old Orchard Beach one day, and in the course of our Adventuring stopped at the rest area sort-of across from Eartha. And a Small Child saw my shirt and planted himself in front of me and demanded, “What kind of animal is that?” to which I answered, truthfully, “It’s a catfish,” and passed on. Behind me I could hear his mom — or at least, the adult woman he was with — saying to him, “Never mind. She was telling you a joke.” I didn’t hear if she clued him in to what the joke was, but I kinda hope she did…

What went before TWO:  Getting pounded awake at 6 am is not working out for me long-term. Just got up from a nap. I’m guessing there will be no writing done today.

OTOH, Trooper has eaten two Fancy Feast cans of Whatever in Gravy, and made a start on a third.

Wednesday? I think so. I’m starting to get a little off-footed on what day it is, which is … annoying. Outside the office windows, it’s sunny and cool. Going to be warmer later, but not, yanno, hot.

Breakfast was leftover dhal. Second cup of tea to hand. I have chicken for lunch, and a veggie to be named later.

Yep, up at 6 again. This morning, I got up when Trooper yelled in my ear, figuring he was going to win, anyway, and not wanting us to start the day at odds. He yelled me all the way down the hall to the kitchen, yelled while I mixed his meds into the gravy, and yelled me back to the bathroom, where he was served.

He’s now conked out on the copilot’s chair and my nerves are starting to settle. Trooper has a very effective yell.

Since I was up, I threw a load of laundry in, to sort of prove that I was relevant, and now I’m waiting for my brain to catch up with being awake, because I have a bunch of /t/h/i/n/k/i/n/g creative labor I need to do today.

break for Rook to throw himself into my lap, snorgle my cheek and pat my hair. “There you go, Mom, NOW you’re ready to face the day. An’ if that creative labor gives you any cat sand, you send ’em to ME.” Thanks, Rookie.

ANYhow, I’ll have a shower after I finish my tea, and try to shock the system into wakefulness. And, yanno, there’s always more tea.

I have two phone calls that I really need to make, but I haven’t been able to scrape together the OOMph to get them done. I’m hoping to make at least one of them today.

I need a secretary, or maybe I mean a keeper.

On that topic, sort of, when I was down in Bath a few weeks ago, I passed one of those, um, retirement communities, and I briefly thought that it might be … interesting to live in Bath, so I made a note of the place’s name and when I got home, I filled out internet form for more information, and, I mean —

snort

I don’t want to mock people who are more substantial than I will ever be, but … let’s just say that if I did have an extra five hundred grand laying around to buy a “cottage”? The monthly fees are more than the mortgage payments on this house (which are, yes, low, because Steve insisted we refinance in that bygone day when money was for some reason cheap), but even at the original less cheap rates. And then you have to do the things you do, anyway, like eat, and put gas in the car, and (I think this is not included) pay to keep the lights and the heat turned on.

And, let’s face it, I’m not moving out of this house. For one thing, I don’t want to move, period. For another, the house is put together to remind us — and now me — on any daily walk-through what it is we chose to do with our lives, and how that worked out for us, and there are some days when I really really need that reminder.

Well. My tea is gone, and the laundry needs to be shifted from the washer to the dryer, so I guess it’s time to get shakin’.

What’s going on with y’all?

Cat census:

Musings on the craft

What went before: Had a nap. Wrote +/-720 new words, bringing the WIP to 57,600-ish total words.

Please do not send me Instagram links — Instagram will not let me in, no matter how nicely I ask, which, honestly? Is probably Just As Well.

It really was a very pleasant day today, weatherwise. Sadly, it will be warmer again tomorrow, but then perhaps we’ll have a thunderstorm or two to look forward to on Sunday.

For those interested in the Fate of Our Papers (not a joke; several people have Expressed Concern), I will at the end of this update provide links to our two archives: One at Northern Illinois University, and the other at the Cushing Memorial Library at Texas A&M.

I’m knocking off for the day to do a little embroidery, and fingers crossed that the cats will let me sleep.

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

Links:  Northern Illinois University       Cushing Memorial Library

Saturday, sunny and still cool. Windows OPEN.

Tali is playing with a spring. Trooper has had his envelope of gravy with meds stirred in. Rookie is on the prowl and Firefly is in one of the open windows in my office.

First cup of tea is brewing, which I will drink while completing the process of waking up. Breakfast will be half a blueberry muffin. Probably. Lunch will be the postponed-from-yesterday salmon cakes, with veggies.

So, I’ve been thinking about the WIP — I know, What A Surprise — and about Diviner’s Bow, which was originally going to be a Completely Nother Book, dealing with Padi’s adventures during the audit of the Iverson Loop.

Only, I got to thinking about the set up there on Colemeno, and the Matter of the Deaf — not necessarily of the Haosa, though there was some of that. I mean, a society where two-thirds of the population are, by definition, non-people really isn’t tenable. And while the Deaf on Colemeno have only just recently fought themselves to a seat at the table, where their voice could be heard, the Haosa don’t even have that.

It never came up, but I’m guessing that, if the Deaf are allowed to, say, testify in court, their “disability” would prevent them from giving a Whole and True Account, and thus not be compelling evidence. And the Haosa! The Haosa might as well be norbears for all the rights they hold under Civilization.

Which comparison would, I expect, amuse the Haosa greatly.

So, that’s how Diviner’s Bow became a book about — as so many of our books are stories are about — What Does It Mean To Be Human, with a side of We’re All Better When We Help Each Other, instead of Padi’s Grand Adventures on the Loop.

In my naivety — writers are — no, I can’t say that. There are writers out there who are Positive, Firm, and Stern; they take No Nonsense from their characters, and they are Realists about the business of their craft. That’s admirable, and I’m in awe.

So I should say that, yes, I’m a wanderer, naive and gormless; quite often amazed, and delighted, with the process of writing and the shines that the characters get up to.

Thus! In my naivety, I initially thought that this book I’m working on now, nameless as it remains, would take up the Iverson Loop, only — Shan was going to Tinsori Light (so far as he knows), and he had arranged for people to meet him there to assist in bringing systems and protocols into the present, and there’s still the on-going business of never mind cleaning, but scouring the old core, and getting those repair bays gone, oh! gone and — here we are at Catalinc Station.

And, I should say, I’m having a tolerably good time there, though the characters have informed me that, while my concerns are worthy, and they will certainly see those items I mention taken care of in good time, there are Other Matters that More Nearly Concern Them, which they’ll be taking care of, front and center, and wouldn’t I be better for a nice cup of tea over there in the corner and out of their way?

Readers have for the last — oh, three? four? — books been reporting that the title they’ve just finished reading is The Last Liaden Book. In fact, there are three (3!) more (more!) Liaden books under contract — the one I’m working on right now, and two others. I’m not going to tell you what the other two are about, because, as I’ve just demonstrated, I’ll probably be wrong. It is, as I’ve also said before, my Goal to give readers a soft landing, and the characters each a solid and sustainable base from which to go forward and grow, on their own, if need be. It’s not like they really need authorial guidance.

Well.

Thank you for listening to my TED Talk.

It’s a lonely ol’ night, but ain’t they all

What went before ONE: I am going to have to prevail upon the goodwill and kindness of the firemen to help with the smoke alarm. It is perhaps that an inner shield was not removed when the device was installed, and my hands are too week to turn the damned thing and open it.

I fear that’s also going to be the case with the electric broom, though I’m pretty sure the firemen won’t fix that.

Onward. I have made a cup of mocha, because I can, and have been through what I wrote yesterday, which remains good.

What went before TWO:

How Many Cats Are In This Picture?

What went before THREE: So, the generator guy pronounces the generator in good shape. He of course had to switch the power, so I’ll now have fun resetting all the clocks.

But that’s not why I called you here this afternoon. I am horrified by my new embroidery project.

#1: The thread is not embroidery thread; it seems to be Just Thread wound around a thread keeper, one strand and it’s all kinked up because it’s been wound on the card for … some time. I figured to iron it, to make it straighter and thus easier to work with, and? It melted. MELTED.

#2: One strand of this weird thread, doubled to make the two strands called for in the pattern, means a smaller needle than I usually use, and I am not certain at all that I’m going to be able to keep the dern thing in hand.

So! Definitely something I’ll be working on away from home. Or, I can possibly do a refrib, replace the stoopid thread with Actual Embroidery Thread from the Stash, and tally-ho.

That may be my best option.

But first?

The clocks!

What went before Three-point-one:  Summing up.  The weird thread is said to glow in the dark.  As I got the kit from a friend who was thinning her stash, and have no investment in the finished piece glowing in the dark, I have found appropriate colors in my Big Bag of cotton floss, and will be continuing with them.

What went before FOUR: Back from needlework. I got really involved in my project and the time flew. Good company helps.

Coon cat happy hour has been served up and I’ve poured myself a glass of wine.

I did a little bit of tinkering with the WIP today, but my real problem is how the scam is going to work, so I’m letting the boys in the basement work on their Powerpoint for awhile. I’m really like where this is going.

The only thing on tomorrow’s schedule, aside, yanno, one’s duty to the cats, and eating, and like that, is Rookie’s Annual with his vet in the afternoon. I hope to write in the morning hours, but if the guys are still working, it’s no big deal.

I think I may finish the green bit while I listen to These Old Shades — this will be New Territory; I’ve never listened to a book while I was doing something else. I wonder how that will work.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Sunny and going for warm/hot-ish.

Once again, I am Up but not At ‘Em. I hope to find Motivation in a mug of Republic of Tea’s strong Irish Breakfast, as soon as it’s even remotely cool enough to drink.

Trooper has had his first snack of the day, with medical inclusions.

My breakfast, once I get to that part of today’s agenda, will be half an everything bagel and, oh, a slice of Swiss cheese; cherries on the side.

Slept hard, but with many disturbing and complex dreams, none of which I can remember of course, except that one had something to do with Alma Alexander and a car.

Notes on the day just behind us:

1 How Many Cats Are In This Picture of course comes from Highlights for Children, where it was a recurring puzzle. I don’t remember much else from Highlights for Children, but I do remember that. Obvs.

2 Listening to an audiobook while sewing is a Dangerous Game. I sat over my needle much later than I had intended, listening and stitching in an Altered State. If I’m going to make a Habit, I’m going to have to set a timer.

2a Last night’s experiment, ref #2, convinces me that listening to a book while driving is not going to A Thing for me. Good deal that I like to listen to music when I drive.

I didn’t have much of a plan for the day, but whatever it was, I have now taken the Command Decision to reduce it to: Breakfast, Cat Box Duty, Write until it’s time to swoop up Rook and take him for his annual check-up.

. . .and my tea is gone. Best find some day-clothes.

Who’s Up and At ‘Em this morning?

Today’s blog post title comes to you from Mr. John Mellencamp, “Lonely Ol’ Night“

In which the wine is damned good

What went before: That was a quick 1000-ish words. I must be on the right track. The WIP entire now tips the word meter at! +/-55,075.

I’m done for the day. Tomorrow’s treats include the arrival of Ideal Electric, to subject the generator to its annual inspection, and, in the evening, needleworking at the library. We will also be looking for temperatures in excess of 90F/32C, which is never fun.

And on that note — everybody stay safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.

SNIPPET:
“The wine is well-chosen,” she murmured in Liaden, then slanted a look up into speculative silver eyes, and added, “Damn, that’s good.”

“That the refreshment pleases you must gratify me,” Shan answered politely. He sipped, sighed, and murmured, “Ain’t it, though?”

Tuesday. Sunny, already warm, and aimed for hot, the first of three. Curtains are closed, station air is on; trash and recycling are at the curb.

Breakfast was roast beef and Swiss on whole grain bread with a side of cherries. Lunch will be, err, something.

Trooper is currently in the bathroom, eating his second snack on the day; my second cup of tea is to hand.

I woke up just before 7, but did not start the day with jets hot. There was, for instance, Tali to be stroked and murmured to, as she’s decided that a little morning spoil before arising is good for her complexion, then Rookie got shut in the bedroom closet — I swear to GHU I’m puttin’ a bell on that cat — Firefly made a Formal Solicitation to be brushed, Trooper had to have his first snack, and so on.

Looking at the to-do list, I may not get any writing done today, though if things go faster than expected, I may be able to grab an hour.

I called a critter removal service yesterday, but haven’t heard back yet. I’ll give them today, then move on to Number Two on the list.

And that’s it — another day in the exciting, drama-filled life of a working writer.

What’s your day looking like?

Flashback to yesterday afternoon:  All paws wanted to inspect my new haircut:

Friday Afternoon

Odd day. Wrote +/-1850 words after throwing out the words I wrote yesterday, which, yes, sounds like a waste, but in fact was not because if I hadn’t written those words, I wouldn’t have known they were the wrong ones, and forced the boys in the basement to Do Better. What I need to do now is piecing so I can see the Big Picture, so to speak. I’m not unhappy with what I’ve done so far, and very glad I had a whole day to bear down.  Today’s labors brings the total WIP to +/-47,760 words.

I’m pretty tired from all that bearing down, so no more new words today, and honestly? I may leave the piecing til tomorrow, too.

In Writing Adjacent News, I’ve applied for a place as an author in the Bangor Book Fair, in December. I have very little chance of being accepted, but, yanno, none if I don’t fill out the form.

I see that the credit union is replacing my credit card with a Whole Nother credit card (not just a renewal of the existing card), come August, which means I need to move the things I have on auto-pay somewhere else. What fun. Also, it looks like I need to find if I have any so-called “rewards” on the existing card and, if so, clean them out, as the new card will not have rewards, but it will have a very respectable 9.9% interest rate.

I also have some mail to answer, but I keep losing the list until I’m too tired to write a coherent letter. Maybe if I put it under my tea mug, I’ll see it first thing tomorrow. It’s a plan.

I had a turkey burger and baked beans for lunch, and I have discovered that turkey burgers are limp and hard to manage, and also don’t taste that great. I still have three of the dern things, but I figure they can be broken into pieces, since they want to do that anyway, mixed in with other things and thereby made to taste better. I mean, I do know that you can’t have chicken and mushroom dumplings every day, but I had expected a little better from the turkey burgers.

It’s been a cool(er) and breezy, so I have the windows in my office open, and I’ve been enjoying the company of all four cats most of the day.

. . . and that’s the report from the Confusion Factory.

Hope everyone’s had a nice Friday and/or holiday.

Friday Census and Proof of Life:

Books and brushes and dumplings, oh my!

BUSINESS FIRST: The Uncle wishes everyone to know that there are still signed copies of Diviner’s Bow available from his website. Signed books make wonderful gifts!

The preview is showing Fair Trade because the link takes you to a catalog page where all signed Lee-and-Miller editions are gathered into one happy place.

Here’s the link.

#

Wrote +/-1060 very drafty words, which I am not adding to the Official Count until the scene is finished. Which it ain’t.

So, questions on Tali’s preferred brush. It’s called a Safari brush, and is a soft, two-sided rubber brush. There are Tricks to using it. I use the brush, then I take a towel and just smooth it over the cat to get the last of the loose fur out. Tali likes both the brush and the toweling, which are both very gentle operations.

What’s so special about dumplings? someone asks. No, not Bisquick dumplings. Chinese steamed dumplings, stuffed with chicken, or pork, or veggies, or combinations thereof. There are also sweet fillings available, but today I went with the savory — chicken and mushroom. Very good; I expect I’ll be a return customer.

The food truck court is right around the corner from a house that Steve and I seriously considered buying, Some Time Back.  We decided that a house that had three steps between the kitchen and the dining room, and three steps from the living room to the bedroom, one step from the bedroom to the bathroom, and two steps down to the sunroom, might not be so good if one of us got sick. Nice house in many ways, including having a separate office wing,  and an attached garage, but the stairs were a deal-breaker. But, man, what a location, twelve years down the road.

In more personal news, Ashley has left me; she has discovered that she’s allergic to cats. This means I’ll be doing my own housework (poor writer; like she hasn’t been doing her own housework for 50 years), which isn’t necessarily a Completely Bad Thing. I’d been looking for stuff to hang a Schedule on, after all.

Also! I will be taking a Social Media Free Day tomorrow in order to Concentrate on the WIP. For those who worry about me not having enough fun, I do have turkey burgers, and buns, and baked beans, so that I can be appropriately festive.

Everybody stay safe; those who are picnicking or otherwise celebrating — have fun!

Let’s check in with each other on Saturday.

Dumplings for lunch

What went before: Did some handwritten work; tomorrow I’ll be typing. I still haven’t figured out who XX are, but I’m sure they’ll tell me bye-n-bye.

Coon Cat Happy Hour has been served up; I’ve got a couple more things to do, then I’ll be pouring a glass of wine.

Everybody have a good evening; stay safe. I ‘ll see you tomorrow.

Oh. For some reason, this got kicked up by the photo program — this would be me on my 61st birthday at The Lindsey House B&B in Rockland Maine. FWIW.

#

Thursday. Sunny and warm. Thunderstorms called for, later, with hail.

Breakfast was cream cheese on an English muffin with grapes on the side. I am back from the chiropractor, and thought I was in for the weekend, but! There’s a Dumpling Truck at the KMD Food Truck Court today, and — it just might be that I’ll have to go out again in a few. We’ll see. I mean; it’s not like I don’t have food. OTOH — dumplings.

Today, I do intend to devote most of my time to writing, dumplings or no dumplings. Tomorrow, Saturday, and Sunday will be more of the same. I know what I’m doing first off, so — all good there.

I spent some time with my Garmin Watch this morning, and to hear it tell the tale, I live a Very Stressful Life. Which I’m supposing is not impossible, Given Everything. It’s worth noting that the days when I’m, err, less stressed, are days when I’m writing, so — I’m going with that.

Tali’s fan club will be happy to know that I’ve finally found a brush that Tali likes; she was purring the whole time, and even turned over for me, so I could brush her belly.

In other news, I’m listening to Faking It by Jennifer Crusie. I’m having an OK time with it, but something about the narration itches at me. Maybe some books just aren’t meant to be read aloud? Though Steve read it to me when I was being bathed in the energy of one thousand angry suns every day. OTOH — I found Steve’s voice soothing.

My reading is A Gentleman of Questionable Judgment, the 9th Lord Julian novel, which I had somehow missed, so now catching up.

. . . and, yeah; I’m for dumplings. I was going to have stir-fry chicken and veggies for lunch, anyhow. Dumplings will go great. And it’s not like they can’t be steamed and heated up for later.

See me convince myself?

So — who has a long weekend coming up? Plans?

Sometime Later:  The chicken and mushroom dumplings are to die for.

And the lavender honey latte is good, too.

Yeah, I went crazy.

It’s summer. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Here’s a picture of Tali, post-brushing, and the boys, Judging me:

 

Under-caffeinated writer rambles

What went before: Oof.

I wasn’t feeling 100 percent when I got up this morning, late but not rested after a very mixed sleep. My knee hurt, my back hurt, my hands hurt, yada, yada, poor writer.

Anyhoots, I thought I’d shake it off, and went, slightly groggy, about my business, including going to the grocery store, and getting gas, and visiting the local pet store. Came home, put everything away, made something — oh, veggie stir fry — for lunch, and still felt lousy.

So, I picked up Rookie, who happened to be on my lap, and carried him with me to the bedroom, where we had a lovely and refreshing two hour hap.

I cannot praise Rookie’s nursing skills enough. He immediately donned his professional aspect, walked around the top of the bed, laid down on my stomach to make sure I was flat to the mattress, then came ’round and snuggled into the side of my neck, purring until I went to sleep.

I feel less achy, and I’ve done the dishes and other chores, so the plan is to go to the needlework group, come home, serve up happy hour and my own supper, go to bed early, and see if I can’t do some writing tomorrow.

How’s Tuesday treating everybody?

#

Wednesday. Cloudy and going to be warm. Feeling much better today.

Breakfast was half an anything bagel with cream cheese and a side of grapes. Drinking my first cup of tea. Lunch will be something to do with chicken breasts.

The only hard thing on the schedule is a visit with the chiropractor in about an hour. Nothing after that until… Monday? And of course Tuesday is the Gala Celebration of Rookie’s Gotcha Day.

In theory, therefore, I have four-and-a-half days to write. That sounds promising, even — exciting. I have a couple scenes, as yet unconnected, that I want to sketch in, and also a continue on the narrative as it stands. This book could be more complicated. OTOH, this is more or less how Salvage Right went together, so the nut hasn’t fallen far from the tree.

I’ve thinking off and on about the conversations I’ve had recently about colleagues who have resorted to reading genre romance in order to up the romance in their sf/f novel, or! to figure out What Women Want, in terms of a hero — and why that makes me … uneasy.

And, I think I’ve finally figured that out. The problem is that genre romance has its Conventions, as does sf/f. One of those is: The Relationship Drives The Plot. The characters may have other problems, other friends, and, yanno, A Life, but the primary problem that must be solved is how are the lovers going to (1) get together and (2) go forward. You don’t, mind, have to SEE them go forward, but it has to be implicit in the HEA that commitment has been achieved and the partners will be going forward together.

A romance writer who is doing her job, therefore, makes certain that the Love Scenes (be they hot or be they sweet) move the characters toward their HEA. They are not only tied to the plot, they are drivers, and there’s a reason they unfold as they do.

SF/F has a long-held Convention that states the Big Problem must be solved at all costs: love and life not being exempt. Love scenes still ought to happen For A Reason, as all scenes no matter the genre ought to happen For A Reason, but the romance and the resolution of the relationship are very, very seldom the primary problem, and the relationship is often used to make more poignant the victory. And because the pacing of sf/f novels and romance novels are so VERY different, the inclusion of Love scenes is also different.

(At some point, someone is going to ask me how they’re different, and I’m going to tell them to go read a swath of Romance and another swath of SF and get back to me. So just be aware.)

Then there’s the vexed question of What Women Want in a (Male) SF Hero. The answer to this has been answered many times in sf/f. I offer the Liaden books as one example, and because they’re handy — but there are many, many others.

In quick sum-up: Men who are strong, but emotionally available; who protect kittens, but who also realize that kittens have claws for a reason, and to deny them the opportunity to use their close is to damage the kitten’s nature. Men who laugh, and who cry, and who aren’t afraid to say, “I don’t know.” Men who are willing to learn, and to teach, and to play. Men who are people, I would say, though I’ve been accused of meaning when I do say that, “Men who act like women.”

So. Long-Winded Auctorial Ramblings R Us.

What’s everybody having for lunch today?