Tag: the writing life

And it’s the night people’s job to take the day people’s money

What went before:  Yesterday went from bad to worse, and I took a couple hours out in the afternoon to sip hot chocolate and stare out the window, then watch Rook play with his robot mouse.  This toy had terrified him as a baby kitten, but yesterday, he deliberately knocked it off the shelf where it has been rusticating for months, and tried kicking it up and down the hall, so I turned it on and let it run until the charge failed.  He had a great time with it, and knew immediately to pick it up by its tail and get it into a open run space when it got (as it frequently does) stuck in a corner.

Wednesday. Sunny and cold.

Breakfast was hummus, naan, apple sauce. Something will leap out of the fridge for lunch, I’m sure.

First thing, I need to talk to somebody about a Confusion of Rights, to which I hope they have a definitive answer. Files under Why Writers Drink.

After my phone call, and hopefully armed with Answers, I need to write a letter. Then, I will be going over the damned tax packet *again* and if all looks good will be delivering it to the accountant’s office, and from there to the grocery to take on food and wine.

I got up early (after 7.30 hours of sleep; someone was concerned that I was not getting enough rest with all these early hours. The fact is that getting up early begets going to bed early, and I, a lifelong Night Person, am now apparently a Day Person, something I’m not particularly happy about, but here we are.), and have already written one letter, so progress is progressing.

Way back when the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory was still in its Country Location, I discovered that there’s a Life Limit on how much coffee one person can imbibe, and, what with years of mainlining the stuff, I had hit that limit. That was when I switched to tea, and Steve, after watching in Stark Terror every time I poured boiling water from a saucepan into a mug (and pretty often over the countertop, too), bought me an OXO Stainless Steel Whistling Tea Kettle with a Geniune Cork Covered Handle.

I love the OXO tea kettle, but it, like me, is starting to show its age, and I thought to get another (because, honest, if me pouring boiling water out of saucepan into a mug was scary ten years ago, it’s only gotten worse. Even *I* get short of breath when I do it.). OXO of course, does not make this tea kettle any more, and I wound up with a Mr. Coffee Whistling Tea Kettle, and may I just say? What a piece of junque. I mean, yes, I’m spoiled; we’ve discussed this, and Steve always bought The Best, whether we could afford it or not — but Mr. Coffee has not achieved a 10 year tea kettle.

On the other hand, given the on-gong axe-work against society and human beings, 10 years may not be something I have to worry about.

Below, another photo from last night — you can see that Tali and Firefly have Made An Accommodation — Firefly on *her* side against my hip, and Tali on *her* side, from hip to knee.

It was all very comfortable.

What makes you comfortable, lately?

Today’s title brought to you by Ray Wylie Hubbard, and there’s a story that goes with that.  I remembered the line about the night people’s job being to take the day people’s money, but not the title of the song.  I asked the internet, which served me up “Rabbit” which was not the song I’d been thinking of, but which I like on its own terms.  A little more digging got me the song I was after, “Nighttime.”

Many cat pictures below.  I note that Tali and Firefly are working out the evening reading positions.

He had a nasty reputation as a cruel dude

What Went Before: Yesterday, I changed out the cat boxes, vacuumed the basement, made bread, and wrote, all against a background of snow, then sleet. The plowguy came by in the late afternoon to plow the accumulation, leaving a skin of snow for the sleet to fall on, rather than taking it down to the asphalt and turning the driveway into an ice skating rink.

I also posted a snippet, which is reproduced below. Before we go there, however — A Word About Snippets: I often snippet from the WIP. I do this to share the joy of the work. In my mind, it’s analogous to my having baked a batch of cookies and offering you one. I am aware (sigh) that some people are … offended by snippets for various reasons that seem Good To Them. If you are one of those folks, and you see SNIPPET in one of my blog posts — skip over that part. You don’t need to write to me to explain how offended you are; I’m fine with not knowing. Both of our blood pressures will thank you.

SNIPPET: He sighed, and tapped the screen, swearing to himself that if it was anything less than news that the twelfth quadrant had disappeared, he would allow it to languish unopened until he had – and froze, staring at what was assuredly one of the rarest items in all the universe.

He had a letter from Theo.

Rarity though it was, he made no move to open it. Such things ought to be treated with respect, if not active alarm.

Monday. Windy and V. cold. Right now, it’s 17F-feels-like-7 (-8C-feels-like-minus-13). Avalanche warning for the White Mountains (in New Hampshire, about 120 miles from the Cat Farm) through Tuesday mid-morning.

Trooper is sitting on my lap helping me write this.

It snowed another inch or two on the overnight. Somebody was kind enough to plow out the berm at the end of the driveway last night. I know it was last night because a fresh-plowed pile would be dirty, and this one is white, so it was snowed upon after it was created. Dunno if the plowguy will be by for the last couple inches; time will tell, and as previously advertised, I’m not going anywhere.

I hereby declare that the trash and recycling will not be going out to the curb tomorrow. I cleared the trash containers in the house Saturday before it started snowing, so we’re all good here.

Breakfast was oatmeal with walnuts and raisins. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch will definitely be leftover stew.

Last night, I again tried the reading-in-bed thing, eventually joined by Tali, and then Firefly. Rook did a check-in, but it was too early for him to go to bed. Trooper was in the big cat ring, and I don’t blame him for not wanting to leave it — that thing is cozy.

I was not particularly restful after I turned off the light, and even after Trooper joined me. He finally grumped, got down — and about five minutes later came back with Firefly, talking all the way. They both got on the bed, Firefly took up her position on my hip, Trooper on my ankle, and that did the trick. I slept until the late, luxurious hour of 6:15am. Cat magic FTW.

Dishwasher is doing its thing; I have my duty to the cats, a few pieces of correspondence, and some banking on the to-do list, but mostly, I’m free to write. I’m very interested to see where these letters lead us.

Apparently, I’m expecting a UPS delivery, but no mail — oh, wait. It is, in the US, President’s Day. No mail delivery. That’s fine.

How’s Monday treating everybody so far?

Today’s title brought to you by The Eagles, “Life in the Fast Lane”

Yesterday’s bread — this is a Pullman loaf, swiped by the US train chefs from the French pain de mie.  Its chief attraction is that it makes a uniform square loaf that’s good for same-sized sandwiches, with very little waste.  Mine is whole wheat; the original is a white bread loaf.

 

They don’t give a damn about any trumpet playing band

What went before:  Hired somebody to maintain korval.com, which is an enormous load off my shoulders.

Waiting in my email this morning was a note from NESFA (New England Science Fiction Association); Tony Lewis has left us.  Tony and Suford let Steve and me park our car at their house for a week and took us to the train station so we could attend our first convention as Guests of Honor, Silicon, in 1998. Chatting with him and Suford was always a high point at Boskone.

Thursday. Frizzling (freezing drizzle, looks like). Once again the Big Storm wore itself out before it got to us.

Breakfast was PB&J on English muffin. Second cup of tea is brewing. Lunch will be — eh. No, wait. I got spaghetti and meatballs out of the freezer last night. Ta-da! Lunch.

So, I was flattened by the time I’d finished eating the evening meal, so I just took my book and a mug of tea and went to bed, where I was immediately joined by four cats, who immediately went to sleep. I read for a while, then shoved the propping pillow to one side, and joined them. So that was good. Next lesson: I’m going to have to stop thinking that 6:00 is early if I go to sleep at 10.

First up today is sitting by the window, watching the … frizzle frizz … and sketching in some scenes (y’all know that when I say things like “doodling” and “sketching” it means making notes and hand-drafting scenes, not actually doing art? Just wanted to clear that up.) This may actually be the only thing, aside one’s duty to the cats, and feeding myself lunch, that actually gets accomplished today, and if so, sobeit.

So, that’s it for me. Over to you.

Below the requested photos of the classy new cat bowls, provided by a Mystery Friend.

Today’s blog post title comes to you from Dire Straits, “The Sultans of Swing.”  Historical note:  I was on my way to Steve’s house, and this song “previewed” on the radio, so that almost the first thing I said to Steve after he let me in was, “I just heard this incredible song!  Sultans of –”  And Steve turned to his record player, picked up an album cover (Steve having been a music reviewer, he got free albums) and handed it to me.  “I was just listening to it, when you knocked.”  I happened to hear it on the radio this morning during breakfast.

Sitting by the window, watching the snow fall

What went before: I cleared all the backed up paperwork.  fingers crossed

Wednesday. Sunny and cold. The three youngers are having Da Zooms. Trooper is asleep in his copilot’s chair; he’s exhausted from having to wake me at 3:30, 4:30, and 5:15. I don’t blame him; I slept in after he gave up.

Breakfast was cottage cheese, grapes, and toast. Yeah, I was lazy. Lunch may be a salad ( ref “lazy”).

We here in Central Maine are looking for Severe Weather in the form of ice-and-snow from midnight through tomorrow afternoon. I suppose the Path of Wisdom is to reschedule Tali’s meet ‘n greet. She still doesn’t reliably let me pick her up, believing, as she apparently does, that I’m going to be putting her in a cat carrier and Taking Her Somewhere (nor would she, in the case, be wrong), and adding in the weather just puts too much angst on all concerned.

As above, Tali is still a bit unsettled. She wants to sit on my lap, but then she remembers that I could be working for the Other Side, and jumps down. She leapt up onto the couch last night to join Firefly and me. Firefly was very courteous; they touched noses like civilized felines, then Tali began to knead. This process went on far too long for Firefly’s nerves and she left. Whereupon Tali left, and though she visited me several times during the evening, she would no sooner sit on my lap than need to leap up and Go See. i didn’t see Firefly again until I went to bed, and found her curled up against my pillow. I slipped in beside her; she purred, and I went to sleep.

What else? Ah. Video chat with the cyber-pro this afternoon. One’s duty to the cats, and perhaps a short walk.

I have taken the decision to doodle in the scenes as they occur to me for the next bit, then move them around until they all snap into the right place. Frequent readers of this space will recall that this is the technique I used to write Salvage Right, though at the time I wasn’t thinking it would be necessary to write ALL Jen Sin books in the same way.

There were calls in various places for photos! of the cats’ elegant new dishes. I’m not ignoring these requests, but the dishes are currently in the dishwasher, getting washed. Watch the skies.

I think that’s everything. I’m awaiting Friday with interest, to see if my SSA payout arrives in the bank, and I’m trying not to look ahead to next Thursday.

That’s the news from the Cat Farm.

What’s your news?

Cats at work:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today’s blog post also brought to you by Laurie Anderson, backed up by Peter Gabriel.  “Excellent Birds,” or, if you prefer, “This is the Picture.”  Link.

Foraging Run

Friday. Cold and … dull, really. It looks like a Very Grumpy day out there, despite the new snow. ‘beans are calling for another snow event overnight Saturday into early Sunday.

Breakfast was salad with a side of bread, so I could do honor to the tomato, finish up the lettuce, and also the cottage cheese. It may be a fact that this house runs on cottage cheese. Currently thinking about going to the store for milk (hot chocolate!), and cottage cheese. Will defer action, if any, until I’ve finished my second cup of tea.

Lunch may be a yam. I think I have a yam. If I go to the grocery, I can be sure I have a yam.

pause for supply check — I have TWO yams. Riches unsung.

I finished reading Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent, which was interesting not only for forcing me think about Shakespeare, which I haven’t done in decades, but for insight into how actors do their particular art. Over on the Other Side, I’m reading Market Forces, Midlife Recorder 7.

Regarding the Important Things In Life, Cats: I saw Rook and Tali touch noses this morning, and neither one hissed. It looked to me as though Rook had initiated the greeting. Later, of course, he ambushed and tried to murder her. Right now, after having disputed her right to the comfy chair in my office, I note that Tali is in the comfy chair, napping, and Rook is on the floor directly before the chair, showing his belly.

A little while ago, Firefly wandered by, looked into the chair, saw Tali, sort of nodded to herself and moved off to get a mouthful of crunchies. No hissing.

I believe we’re making progress.

I do want to devote most of this day to writing, which means if I’m going to the grocery, I’d better go soon. I’m really missing Steve on this getting up to speed part. I had a Realization last evening that Changes Everything (yes, yes, I’ve only written one letter; it’s a Writer Thing). I went back to Steve’s office to run it past him, and — sat in his chair at the desk for awhile.

Sun’s out now. Guess I’ll finish my tea and go out to the store. Then that will be Done, and the weekend before me.

What’s the weather where you are?

Cat census.  Rook has since shifted his position to achieve MSE (Maximum Sun Exposure)

The Luck

What went before:  Yesterday was a sandwich:  Early good news, extremely frustrating events until Trooper’s vet appointment, which was neutral (awaiting blood work), then finishing on a high note, when I received notice that Talizea was on the move and I was on for an interception in Portsmouth.

Onward!

Saturday. Snowed overnight; looks to be 2-ish inches on the front steps.

Breakfast was peanut butter and raspberry jelly on a whole wheat English Muffin. Lunch will be — I think there’s still some bean loaf left.

Those of you who’ve been around awhile know that writers are told to Write What You Know. So, when when Steve and I tell you about Korval’s Luck, which every clan member rightly looks upon with wariness and trepidation, believe that we were are speaking from experience*.

Witness this morning, when I opened the cabinet under the bathroom sink to get zippered bag to hold things like my toothbrush and toothpaste into for my upcoming overnight — and discovered that the pipe under the sink was leaking, and had apparently been doing so for some time. But! There was an open-mouthed plastic bag positioned by chance directly under the leak and it was full of water. It would have surely overflowed today, if I hadn’t looked in.

So, now the contents of the undersink are strewn about the bathroom floor. There are some casualties, but nothing irrecoverable. The plumber of course is closed today. OTOH, I have a second bathroom, which I suppose I’ll be sharing with Tali until we can get somebody on the case, after we get home.

This situation is so on-brand that I started to laugh when I found that plastic bag full of water.

So, today’s to-do! Change out the cat fountain, do one’s duty the cats, deal with the stuff that’s strewn, convert the second bathroom to Talizea’s Parlor, pack for a very peculiar overnight away, correspondence. I hope for time to write even 500 words, which looked possible before the under-sink surprise. Now — we’ll see.

I’m told that Tali is bringing All Her Stuff. I’m guessing that means her posters, too, which — there’s not very much room in the second bath to hang stuff. Maybe we can stick them to the mirrors.

Still reading Code Yellow in Gretna Green. Oh. Note to self: Make sure you have the next one on the Kindle before you leave.

That’s it.

So, tell me — what kind of luck do you have?

_________
*Chinese zodiac-wise, Steve was a metal tiger and I am a water dragon, both considered “lucky” signs.

Book planning and Big Cat update

What went before:  Yesterday, as I was staring out the window, my brain informed me that it wanted to write an epistolary Liaden novel.  I pointed out that we couldn’t do that, because we were going back to Catalinc Station and the Action! folks, who — while they can write letters — really prefer not to.

Recommencing with the staring out the window, it — finally, some will say — dawned on me that while Diviner’s Bow and Book the Next are — ahem — “unrelated” novels, there’s a character who is leaving the traders and headed for the Station. And that this character not only knows All The Players — he corresponds with them. And the Action folk do write back to him.

I don’t usually like to think about Structure this early in a project (which may be why my first drafts always end up with everything happening on Tuesday afternoon), and I can’t in fairness to the action players have a book that is only letters, but I can use the letters to frame and illuminate the action.

And that? Sounds like fun, which none of the other things I’ve been slinging at the wall, looking for a conceit that will bear a novel, have done.

Also, the letter structure may give me room to do A Thing I wanted to do and shelved, because I couldn’t figure out how to make it fit into a novel set on the Station.

All that being said, I resolved to Sleep On It, and if it seemed good in the morning, I’d go forward.

Going forward!

Friday. Grey and chilly. ‘beans are calling for a high of 36F/2C, following yesterday’s deep freeze.

Breakfast was leftover fried rice. I don’t have one clue what lunch will be.

Today’s Big Ticket To-Do List item is Trooper’s vet appointment. He’s been … off … with many many complaints, so either I’m providing really subpar service or something’s up. I worry; he’s 15, and he’s outlived both his childhood sweetheart, and their daughter.

Speaking of cats. Negotiations have taken a major step forward. I’m awaiting a call from the escort, and it could — could! — be that the new director will be with us on Monday. This will require some finagling in and around the Greater Portsmouth NH Megalopolis, and thus we await that call from the escort, with deets.

The Hybrid Epistolary Novel still sounds good to the me, so! Next step is to open a file and start writing.

That’s all I’ve got; hours spent staring out the window don’t make for a riveting narrative.

What’s your riveting narrative for the day?

Below, a “memory” offered up by the photo app on the phone.  Sprite and Steve, sharing a moment.

I lay it out like they do in magazines

What went before:  Ended yesterday on a low note.  I blame the grocery store.

What went before, The Long edition:  2024 was a Personal Worst. In February, I lost my best friend, my coauthor, and my spouse.  In July, I lost my heart-cat, and maybe, or maybe not, had a stroke.  In October, I turned in a book, and then did line edits, copy edits and galleys in a month.  I’m still trying to figure out how I wrote a book last year.

Onward!

Thursday. Bright and bitter cold. The weatherbeans theorize that the high temp on the day will be 15F/-9C. I’ll be staying in.

Breakfast was cottage cheese, toast, and strawberries. As pictured elsewhere, Rook got in my lap and pinned me down, so I finished my first mug of tea and played Spelling Bee to Solid.

Second mug of tea is with me here at the desk. Lunch will be leftover bean loaf, and, err, veggies.

The plowguy came by yesterday evening. I was surprised, but pleased. Much later, UPS arrived bearing a Large Carton. A kind friend had sent two heated throws for the use of the cats and myself. They were frozen stiff from their all-day tour of Central Maine, so I put them in the laundry room to thaw. They are now, as per instructions, being washed before use.

I have some 1099s of various flavors to log; I’m still missing 5, which seems unlikely, until I remember that I need a total of 20.

<serious discussion>I would like to take this opportunity while we’ll all together at the table sipping our beverages and preparing for what’s left of our day, to assert that I am not a slacker.

I know that there are things people want me to do that would “Only take X” and questions that people may believe I am ill-naturedly refusing to answer. I fear that those things lie with you, and not with me.

As I discussed in this space (note: this would be my Facebook Wall) only a week or so ago — I need to be very careful to protect my health — physical and mental. Steve used to do this for me — part of the way he did it was by answering, or explaining why he wasn’t going to/couldn’t answer, questions and expressed desires. I will allow that I am in no way as elegant, or as facile, as Steve was in these matters.

So, I’m asking you to please think before you tell me that This Thing would “Only Take X” or demand that I answer a question that you actually know the answer to, or can easily find the answer to. I am particularly vulnerable to people demanding that I Solve This Problem, and I have had to become very mindful of the fact that I’m not responsible for solving the problems of nations.

Now, you might be saying to yourself at this point that I’ve got a helluva lot of nerve asking you not to ask me things, when I ask for help pretty regularly.

In my mind, asking for help is not a demand; it’s a request, as in “Hey, if you have the time/inclination/skills could you–?” (Or, “Check this font; is it san serif?”) That’s what people do. I help when I can; so do you — I know you do because you help me. We’re all better when we help each other. And we’re all better when we accept help, when we need it.

All I’m doing is asking us all to be a little mindful. I’ll do my best; and I know you’ll do yours.</serious discussion>

I’m going to split the day between the domain situations, and staring into space. I will note here that “staring into space” = working, for those coming in late.

What’re you doing today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Jason Kinney, “Neutra Face: An Ode On a Typeface”

The Writer at Work

What went before:  Finished reading “Shout of Honor,” and put it to marinate.

A Question Asked; A Question Answered: The “boys in the basement” (sometimes known as “the back room”) are the committee of rowdies that passes for my muse.  They drink a lot of beer, eat a lot of pretzels, watch re-runs of Time Tunnel and I Dream of Jeannie on Youtube, and occasionally kick an idea upstairs where I can find it.  Astonishingly often, they’re good ideas.  I do occasionally have to cut off their beer to get them to focus, but compared to what some of my colleagues have to do to get their muses to focus, that’s minor.

Another Question Asked, and Answered:  Phil Jurus was a silversmith down in Maryland.  Steve and I bought our wedding rings from Phil, and probably more silver than we could afford at the time.  He created the Runes of Roke Knoll.  Our wedding rings are engraved with Mette, the Rune for Courage (Sharon) and Illum, the Rune for Wisdom (Steve).

 

 

 

 

Onward!

Wednesday. Snowing and cold.

Breakfast was blueberry muffin and cottage cheese. Still drinking my first mug of tea. Lunch will be, um. Oh! Potstickers and fried rice. Sounds good, and I can do that out of stores.

Well, I miscalculated. I thought there’d be a dusting of snow on the overnight and I’d just hang in ’til 10 or so and then go to the grocery store. I am not going to the grocery store today. Looking at the list, there’s nothing I can’t get by without for another day, so tomorrow’s adventures will include the grocery store.

I’m still monkeying around with the Pair accounts Steve left. Having finally gotten inside Pair — there’s not even a directory for stevemillerwrites, so that makes that decision easy. However! There are two other domains that I do need to keep: liadenuniverseCOM/NET, even though they’re not manifesting on the internet. So, some of today will be once again making the part of my brain that used to know this stuff, err, work. Ow.

I also need to do some laundry, mostly because I ran through all of my Extra Special Warm Socks, and man, I’m gonna be wanting those.

(I made the mistake of reading a News Summary. Oh. My. Ghod.)

Back to focusing on the stuff I can do something about. I believe I have a starting point and a conceit for the next book. It is not at all what I thought I’d be doing, but ain’t that always the way.

I may take a little chunk of time to go through my jewelry box and look for pieces that may go into a memory necklace, as a reward for bending my brain into pretzels.

In reading matters, I last night finished Seeing Red in Gretna Green and have moved on to Code Yellow in Gretna Green. I’ve been reading Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent over lunch, and it’s been an agreeable companion. Also, yesterday, I got sidetracked into re-reading “Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones,” by Samuel R. Delaney. It’s been a decade or so.

So, it’s still snowing. And I need another mug of tea.

What are you focusing on, today?

How it started, and how it’s going. Two pictures of Rook, aka Rookie, Lord High Rookifur, Fool of a Rook, Bananabread…  The one on the left is from July 2024; the one on the right was taken this morning.

Time seen as a necklace of precious stones

What went before:  Yesterday, I read all the Commander Vepal sections of The Gathering Edge (how is it possible that The Gathering Edge was published in 2017?) — this because of a Notion sent up from the guys in the basement.  I also did a lot of Real Life This and That, because Real Life does have to be tended to, sometimes.

Shameless Self-Promotion:  The audio edition of Sea Wrack and Changewind, by Sharon Lee, being all of the Archers Beach stories in one volume, is now on sale at Tantor Media. Narrated by Alex Picard.  Here’s your link.

Tuesday. Cloudy; it was snowing a little when I took the trash and recycling to the curb. Seems to not be snowing at the moment.

Breakfast was blueberry skyr and tea. Lunch will be beanloaf in mushroom sauce, and a fancy frozen veggie to be named later.

Today’s to-do is reading “Shout of Honor,” performing one’s duty to the cats, and taking a smol walk. Depending on how lively the guys in the basement are feeling, I may spend some time staring at nothing. (Note to Self: restart beer deliveries to the guys in the basement.)

Sartorially speaking, I’m wearing the usual Wrangler carpenter jeans with the pointy-thing pocket repurposed to hold my phone; Steve’s flannel-lined denim shirt (which is magical, I’m sad because (1) mine all wore out long ago, and (2) this style has gone the way of the so-called “shirt jac,” which is still warm, but not as nice), and one of Steve’s necklaces (another Phil Jurus rune: Edram, the rune of the artist).

I was thinking yesterday (when my necklace was the astronomically correct silver moon that Steve gave me for my 60th birthday), that I have a lot of necklaces in my care — some of course more Important than others — and I got to wondering if I could have them made into a memory necklace — like a charm bracelet, but a necklace.

I also have a lot of earrings, because my ears used to be pierced. And I’m wondering if it’s worth my time to have my ears pierced again, or what on earth I’m going to do with All Those Earrings, some of which, again, are more precious than others.

Moving on to the Big Cat Hunt — we await word from the escort service as to date and time. Join me in Watching the Skies.

And that’s all the news from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

What’s your news?

Today’s blog title is brought to you by Samuel R. Delaney, “Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones”

Scenes from a late-waking morning: