Tag: the writing life

Sunny Thursday

BUSINESS FIRST!  Diviner’s Bow by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller, the 27th novel set in the Liaden Universe® of their own devising (ignore Amazon; it doesn’t know how to count) premiers at #13 on the Bookscan new release bestseller list!

We couldn’t have done it without you, so! Give yourselves a hand!

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What went before ONE: The snow is melting nicely, and I’ve sketched in the beginning of a scene, and washed my robe, which may need to get washed again, considering the amount of cat fur still clinging to it. On the other hand, fur is warm amirite?

I was listening to the Spectrum Channel on Sirius, and the host was discussing the new crop of artists who are up for inclusion in the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame, which is one of Sirius’ Big Things. This year INXS is on the list (I mean, why isn’t INXS already in the Hall of Fame?), and the host, who is not someone who goes out of her way to speak ill of people, mentioned that she was pleased with the inclusion of INXS, and then said, “You know, I do try to separate the art from the artist — in my business, you sort of have to — but I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Neil Gallagher of Oasis, for his acceptance speech. You remember the one — Mike Hutchence (of INXS) was giving the award and Gallagher, in his speech said, “Has-beens shouldn’t be giving out [fucking] awards to gonna-bes.” That, said mine host, and she wasn’t wrong, was cruel. It was, in fact, ungracious, and then, she added, “A year later Mike Hutchence was gone, so I hope Neil Gallagher felt good about that. Anyway! Here’s INXS — ”

Wow.

So! I guess I’d better empty the dishwasher and start warming up my soup for lunch.

How’s everybody doing at the half-way mark on the day?

What went before ONE-point-FIVE: Just thinking about the acceptance speech thing, and — I’m going to be giving an acceptance speech in a little over a month.

Mine’s better than Noel Gallagher’s.

Just sayin’.

What went before TWO: I’m not really sure what I got done today. Bits of this and pieces of that.

Got some correx entered — oh. I had to rewrite a scene to make it plain that Val Con’s being sneaky, for those who may have forgotten his core values.

Spent some time looking for something that I never did find. I hate that. And now I need to practice my speech again (trying to do this long enough so that it’s more or less committed to memory by the time I actually have to stand up on a stage and speak), and do some ASL review. I’m of the opinion that the days aren’t long enough, because it can’t be that I’m wasting time. Sigh.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

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Let’s see. Thursday. Sunny and bound for warm. Last class of ASL Session One this evening.

Breakfast was potatoes fried with onions, cottage cheese, and grapes. Lunch will likely be a fish sandwich.

ASL review this morning. There’s a load of laundry washing, because the basket was full and it offendeth me.

I have more correx to input, and some more scenes to draft by hand, so it’s not like I lack for occupation.

So the book I’m reading is The Dreadful Duke, by Grace Burrowes, in which Our Hero is a sculptor. He’s been doing this for a long time, and as he was in the position of having to do art in exchange for money, he has worked long hours and demanded much of himself. When the story opens, the second thing we are told about the man is that his hands hurt. And this remains an undercurrent of the story, that one’s art may be beloved, but it will in the end break you.

This brought to you by, my hands hurt.

What’s everybody doing today that’s fun?

Below:  The Long Back Yard, this morning; obligatory cat pics

You can make or break; you can win or lose

Notice:  Today’s blog post is picture-heavy.  Some days are like that, Mrs. Miller.

What went before ONE:  So, here in Maine, where it’s snowing, the US Government has pulled the funds that pay for school lunches in Maine, because there are trans students in school sports, and! it has just pulled correctional funding because there’s a trans prisoner in a women’s prison.

This, according to the US Government’s Speaker to Animals in the service of “protecting women.”

What fun.

What went before TWO: This of course makes it very easy to type…

What went before THREE: Snowing harder. Hands still hurt.

1260 new words today, and that’s the end of the new scene.

Trooper is yelling his head off, which is going to get tiresome RSN, and won’t make Happy Hour happen faster. It’s just — clocks, man. SO disobliging.

I was able to schedule a mammogram at Thayer in September, and therefore cancelled the one at Sebasticook. There were a couple of confusing points, such as — Where do you want the report sent. Which, given my PCP has gone or will shortly go, poof! was a puzzler. I finally recalled to mind my surgeon at the cancer center, so that’s who will receive the report. The other one was — Have your records sent over to us. Oh, yeah, sure. How? Oh, just call their file room, they do this all the time. Uh-huh.

I ended up calling the women’s health department, explaining what I was told and they were able to send the electronic files on while I was on the phone with them.

I also signed a service agreement, which will take care of my lawn mowing and the upcoming winter’s snow removal.

So, yanno — progress made on several fronts. Go, me.

Speaking of progress — I did wash the sheets, but now I have to fold them. So, I guess I’ll do that, and let Trooper yell out here all by his onesie.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Sunny and cold. About 2.5 inches of snow on the front step; trees coated with white. Ref pic below.

The Weatherbeans are calling for sun and 40F/4C today and warmer tomorrow. Already, the snow’s falling off the trees. Friday should be quite pleasant. Saturday and Sunday, you ask? Mixed snow and rain. What else?

Given Conditions, today will be more writing, lucky characters; also ASL homework. I should also Scrutinize my travel arrangements, and nail down an appointment in Corning to make some glass.

Breakfast was cream cheese on rice crackers, with a side of grapes; second mug of tea to hand. Lunch will be soup and salad, because I’m lazy.

On the Fashionista Front, the pearl studs worked out well yesterday, so I may put in the sapphire studs today. They’ll look nice with my green-and-black-check flannel shirt.

It appears that the morning wrassle-and-scream session is now a Tradition for Rook and Tali. They have at it mightily for, oh, six minutes? Then Rook rolls over and shows his belly, Tali licks his head and they go off to their morning nap spots. Cats, man. They passeth understanding.

Oh, another thing to do today. I’ll be attending AlbaCon remotely, if I can figure out how to tell Zambia that.

. . . and that’s really all I’ve got. As a spectator sport, writing is even more boring than chess. No, I misspeak. Chess isn’t boring at all, to an informed onlooker. So I’ve been told. Golf, then. Writing is more boring than golf. There’s a tshirt.

What are you doing today that’s boring?

Here, have a picture of Trooper the Wise. And Grumpy. Can’t forget Grumpy.

Today’s blog title brought to you courtesy of Mr. Glenn Fry, “The Heat is On.”

She could kill you with the wink of an eye

What Went Before ONE: So there I was in Five Below, wandering about and wondering, among other things, who would WANT Stitch headphones, when — my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and it said Sebasticook Hospital.

On the off-chance that someone I knew was actually in the hospital and needed me to do something for them, I answered.

My mammogram, previously scheduled for September 12 at the hospital around the corner from my house? The hospital which is closing in May? Said mammogram has been rescheduled for the same time at — Sebasticook Hospital. In Pittsfield. 30ish miles away.

I hate this timeline.

Also — lunchtime.

What Went Before TWO: A mixed afternoon.

I have determined that the Subaru’s navcomp operates while I am playing a CD in the single-disk CD player.

I have determined that I can play Sirius XM from my phone to the car’s speakers via bluetooth and the navcomp will speak to me.

I have determined that I can bluetooth navigation from phone to the Subaru, but Sirius XM will not play from the car when I do so.

I have determined that I can bluetooth both Sirius XM and navigation from the phone through the Subaru’s speakers and both will work; which is to say, the music will play and when the navigator needs to speak, it simply yells over the music.

I have determined that there are no (zero, zip, zilch, NO) copies of Diviner’s Bow at the Augusta Maine Barnes and Noble. The lady on the customer service desk put in an order for three when I asked her to do so, but she allowed as Corporate might not “let them” have the books, ref previous “timeline, this one, hate it.”

I’m going to get a cup of hot chocolate, then I’ll unbox my bread slicer, which was delivered while I gamboled about Central Maine.

What Went Before THREE: Preliminary bread guide report.

I washed it, put it together and cut the last of the loaf using it. It made one straight thinner slice, and one slice slightly thicker, but I stress here that we were using the end of a loaf that had already been abused by my lack of skill.

I will likely be making a new loaf tomorrow, and will update my report then.

So far — it goes together like a dream. I don’t see any splinters and the crumb catcher is kinda cool.

What Went Before FOUR: So, I determined that I would use Steve’s old phone as a navigation/music device in the car. Which is a sensible use of resources, and preserves the charge on my phone in case of need.

So, I opened his phone, and then freaked out, because I was going to have to delete things, and what if he came home and wanted his phone and I’d gone and repurposed it?

Yeah, I know. But it’s a hard habit to break. For most of my life, he’s always come home again.

Happy ending — I can keep the apps, right? But they don’t have to be littering the front screen. I can just leave Sirius and Google Maps there where I can get at them.

And I do believe that’s quitting time. Tomorrow, we make bread — and new words.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

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Tuesday. Grey and cool. Rain and snow on the menu, say the Weatherbeans. Trash and recycling are at the curb.

There will be no bread baking today, as my hands are not up to it. (Yes, I have a Kitchen Aid. The Kitchen Aid does not put itself together, measure ingredients, or shape the loaf. Or for that matter, put the loaf in the oven.) This is why we have the spare loaves in the freezer, and today I will make a withdrawal. As the spares are already sliced, the updated review of the bread slicing guide will be delayed until the next baking.

On Bad Hands Days, the hands are reserved for writing, and for one’s duty to the cats, so that’s my schedule for the day.

Breakfast was almond butter and cherry jelly on a whole wheat English Muffin. There’s leftover homemade stirfry for lunch.

I have here before me yesterday’s installment from the New Yorker cartoon calendar, which features a man and a woman on a desert island, and the woman is saying to the man, “I wouldn’t mind being rescued now that I’ve finally grown my bangs out.”

I was wandering around the house taking the cat census. Rook was under the ledge of my standing desk, so I sat down to take his picture, whereupon he stepped across and took over my lap.

What are your companion animals doing today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Sweet, “Ballroom Blitz.”  NOTE:  If you are now or have ever been a fire marshal, do not watch this video.

Cat census:

Earrings and old photos

What went before: Entered a bunch of correx into the WIP today, which gets me to a place where I need to write a scene, tomorrow.

I need to go out tomorrow because I? ran out of cat treats, because, yes, I am a Bad Cat Mom. And also? Because it’s going to snow on Tuesday.

Winter? We gotta talk.

Otherwise, I need to find something to eat, and then go curl up on the couch and read for a bit.

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Monday. Cloudy and chilly.

Breakfast was rice cakes and cream cheese with pineapple juice. Finishing up my first cup of tea. Lunch will depend on what looks good when I go to the grocery store.

This morning I have errands, and banking, and staging the trash for tomorrow; ASL review; at least inputting some correx, if I don’t have enough spoons to write that scene. Also, I’m behind on my correspondence.

Slept a good long while, though I have the impression I woke up every hour to look at the clock. Finally truly woke up, but feeling very tired. Which really seems unfair.

The old silver studs earrings wore well yesterday and overnight. I took them out to shower, and this morning put in the pearl studs on their surgical steel posts. Sometime realsoonow, I’ll get to the sapphire studs, but they’re rather heavier and I’m trying to be — what’s that word? — prudent.

I once again thank everyone who left a review of Diviner’s Bow for your generosity. And I again remind everyone else, as is my duty, to please leave a review as you have time. And a special note for the folks who are rereading the previous two books to prep — reviews of old books count, too, and! the Ribbon Dance mmp is coming our RSN, so new reviews there are good, too.

And that’s all I’ve got, really. Given my general state of fuzziness, I should probably warm the kettle for a second cup of tea before I get on the road, but, yanno — mere details.

What’s Monday like at your place?

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From the Department of Old Photos

This fell into my lap, so to speak, when I was looking for something else.

BaltiCon 15 would have been in 1981. The young lady in the picture would therefore have been…28. The shirt is a patterned satin, white on white, the skirt is white. The sash is red. The funny thing sticking out of her head is a red scarf, which — I don’t know why it was there. Must’ve been a reason. And those glasses weighed A TON.  Photo by Steve Miller.

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OK, somebody wanted a pic of Young Steve. The back of the photo says “BaltiCon 1979,” which would make that BaltiCon 13. Steve was 28; I was 26.

Photo possibly by jan howard finder. We had been talking to him in this space. (Longer History: Steve and I were arriving at the con separately, and had arranged to meet “at registration,” as one does. I was dawdling alone, and jan had just asked me (1) my name (2) if I would like to do the con with him. I told him I was waiting for Steve Miller, who arrived just then, whereupon jan said, “Here’s the lucky man now.” So, yes, entirely possible, jan took this picture.)

Reading and writing and counting o! my

What went before: So, at end of writing today, the WIP weighs in at 23,075 words OR 113 double-spaced pages. It has been printed out and we’uns will be getting together tomorrow to see where everything is, what pieces are missing (I mean, yes, three quarters of a book is missing, but where’s it missing from? Eh? I. Riddle. You. THAT.)

For right now, I’m straightening up the disaster area called my desk, and trying One! More! Time! to learn how to count in ASL. This is not going well. Part of it is that my fingers are none so limber as they were 50ish years ago, when I learned this stuff the first time, and honestly? I don’t remember being taught how to count. How to say stuff, oh, yeah. Number of stuffs? That’s what the “many” sign is for.

I do remember from the past that one of the very first signs we were taught was “Bathroom” In this iteration “Bathroom” is in Lesson Three, which seems — harsh.

Of course, my first sign teacher was herself deaf, and the most practical woman I’ve ever met. I remember when I forgot the sign for “dear” and substituted “deer,” which made sense to me, but not so much to her, and she demanded to know what I was thinking. I explained that they sounded the same. And She. Just. Stared. At. Me. until I meekly asked, “D-E-A-R, how sign?” Whereupon she signed it for me, LARGELY. . . SSSLLLOOOOOOWLY. So I’d Get It.

A major motion picture, that woman. She was born to conquer worlds, and the Luck gave her me.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

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Wednesday, sunny and warm-ish. We here in Maine once again stand, battered but unbowed, beneath the threat of a Winter Storm.

Before we go any further, the ebook edition of Diviner’s Bow on Amazon has cracked the top ten list for Science Fiction Adventure. So make of that what you will.

Thank you! to those who have starred and! reviewed! *smooch*

So. Breakfast was Cabot cream cheese on Lundberg rice and red quinoa cakes. The Cabot cream cheese was good (better than Philly cream cheese, which I have been bored with for years, but which has been, except for a brief period when a local dairy operation produced its own cream cheese, the only game in town), the rice-and-quinoa cakes were — OK. Not much different to me than their plain rice cakes. Second cup of tea is with me here at the desk. Lunch will be fish of some kind. Maybe I’ll make good on those salmon cakes that I didn’t make last week. That’ll give me leftovers.

Today, I have some work to do on behalf of the Ribbon Dance audiobook, since I’ll be traveling about the time book prep will be going on, but mostly I’ll be sitting with the WIP, reading what’s there, making notes, and hopefully not yelling, “This is hopeless — HOPELESS!” FWIW, I don’t think that’s where we are.

Last night, I started (re)reading Night’s Master (because of course everyone read Tanith Lee Back In The Day), and being soothed by the lushness of it. That used to be a fantasy thing, all that Imagery and soft, unlikely, specific words, told in that dreamy once-removed voice.

I ran out of socks, so I started doing the laundry, and the sun is pouring into my office, making it toasty warm. Rookie had decided to make Tali’s life a misery and a burden, and once again Firefly stepped in on Tali’s side. I’m finding this evolving dynamic fascinating, and to the point. Rookie’s going to be way too big a cat to allow him to be a bully. And the fact that he’s already bigger than Firefly and she’s whaling the Bast outta him is apparently making an impression. I hope he draws the Right Conclusion.

And that’s what I’ve got for the early report.

What’s everybody doing today?

Firefly, during yesterday’s Gala Book Day Celebrations:

Roland, the Headless Thompson Gunner

What went before: 500ish new words, bringing the total WIP to +/-21,750 words.

Knocking off a little early today, mostly because I have correspondence to write and a house to visualize.

Tomorrow, it looks like I’ll be in, unless the weather revises itself again. We have gotten nothing like the pretty bad storm the ‘beans were predicting. So far. It’s supposed to be warm and rain tomorrow, but a lot depends on timing. Right now, it’s looking like Tuesday is my day out, in between Monday’s warm-and-rain, and Wednesday’s — wait for it — snow.

Also tomorrow, I need to bake bread. I bought some harvest grain mix which I’m going to add to the Standard Whole Wheat Loaf to jazz it up a bit. There’s nothing wrong with the Standard Whole Wheat Loaf, mind you; I just prefer something a little chewier.

Tuesday, of course, is Book Day. It may also be a day to take a short drive and test the proposition that using bluetoothing both googlemaps and sirius xm from the phone will result in my having both things, with the map program interrupting the music as necessary. I’ll also see if the car’s map program will speak to me when there’s a CD in play. I would also like to speak to the person who thought that drivers only need a map or music. Must be a non-driver.

In. Any. Case.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Cloudy and … there’s something weatherly going on outside — frizzling, I guess.

Breakfast was the last waffle with sausage gravy. Waiting for one of my extremely rare cups of coffee to brew. I have a choice of leftovers for lunch.

The dry ingredients for today’s loaf of bread are mixed together, the other ingredients assembled and ready to be added as soon as everything warms up a bit.

Aside the bread, I have a couple of minor tasks to attend to, but today is, one! more! time!, devoted to writing and to ASL homework.

Has anyone here read Alibi by Sharon Shinn? May I have your no-spoiler impressions?

Unless I knock off really early today, or for some reason choose blanket forting, I will not finish the Honey Pot Plot today. But I probably will finish it tomorrow. It’s a spare little trilogy, but I’ve been consistently amused. I am especially amused that the Myth of the Winged Russian has leaked over from RED (now RED One)– and for all I know RED‘s writers got it from somewhere else. The Winged Russian really deserves a place beside Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner. For those who haven’t read it, the first book is Rocky Start, by Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer.

I’ve been rotating between reading on the couch in the evening and reading in bed. The cats are trying to work with it, but I get the sense that they prefer reading on the couch, which, after all, has History behind it. Last night was a couch night, and they all four came in to join me. Tali took the top platform of the cat tree, so she could overlook the whole room. Trooper claimed his usual corner of the couch. Firefly snuggled in hard against my hip, and Rook got up on the back of the sofa and put his paw on my shoulder.

And that’s the Monday morning report from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

How’s Monday treating you so far?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Mr. Warren Zevon, “Roland, the Headless Thompson Gunner.”

Burned all my notebooks; what good are notebooks?

What went before:  Home again, with a very large black kitten on my lap, purring like this: Purr. Purr. Purr. Purr.

I have gotten Trooper’s meds. I have taken on another box of Delectables Bisque to hide the meds in. I have sworn at stupid drivers who don’t think that stop signs in parking lots count. I have updated the software in my car. I have determined that the CD player in that same car works (it only plays one CD at a time, but here we are. At least I will have music when the phone is connected to the car, because I can either have the map from the phone speak to the car, OR I can have Sirius XM, but I can’t have both. This is a problem on a long trip, such as the one coming up, because I need both.

All duties having now been discharged, Imma order in lunch for the next three days and then sit down with my WIP.

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As predicted, Asian Cafe has provided me with multiple meals, which means I can focus on things other than wondering what the heck I’ll be eating for a few days.

I jumped ahead and wrote a scene that I’ve been thinking about, so that’s 1200-ish words today, bringing the total rough, Oh-so-very rough WIP to +/-20,500. Another 5,000 words gets me to 100 pages, at which point, I’ll print out everything and See What I See.

The weather . . . We’re under an Active Weather Advisory, with snow/sleet/freezing rain said to be starting around midnight tonight and ending for realies around 6 am on Monday. Snow accumulations, it says here, between 3-5 inches; sleet accumulations around three quarters of an inch, and ice accumulations between one tenth and four tenths of an inch.

I’m not liking all that ice, but here we are.

Right now it’s sunny and blue, and all the snow in the Long Back Yard has melted yet again.

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Saturday. Snowing. I am drinking a mug of tea.

Woken up just before 6 by an insistent beeping and the cats On Alert. I tried turning off the alarm I didn’t remember setting — that wasn’t it. I told Google to turn off music. That wasn’t it. I turned off the stupid heart phone. THAT wasn’t it. It came to me about then that it was my chest that was beeping.

Now, yes, they gave me an instruction manual, and yes, I read it. But yanno? I didn’t actually remember at 6am and just roused out of a sound sleep what the beeping and the red light meant. It occurred to me, as it must, since I was wearing a heart monitor, that I might be having An Event. Which woke me right up.

Long story short, the monitor was convinced that it hadn’t had skin contact for more than 6 hours and it was needy. The instruction manual suggests removing the tape and installing another monitor.

I did remove the tape, but guess what? I am not replacing the monitor. This thing is going back in the box. It’s been glitchy from Day One and I for one would suspect ANY data it managed to gather in its enfeebled state.

So, I’ll write a note to send with it, pack everything back into the box, and whenever I’m able to get out to the UPS store (Monday? Tuesday?), it’ll be on its way to Boston.

Minus stars. Will not do again.

Breakfast will eventually be a waffle with sausage gravy, probably an orange, and more tea.

On the list today is changing out the cat boxes, and vacuuming the basement. I hope to write, but I may instead make a blanket fort. We’ll see how it goes.

Re the weather — apparently we’re looking for very light amounts of snow today, to soften us up for the BIG storm, which is to arrive sometime tomorrow.

So! what’s everybody having for breakfast?

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So, I’m charging Steve’s Chromebook. The plan is to see if I can install the Sirius app on IT, then run it off the car’s wi-fi hotspot, thus allowing me to have both GPS and music while I travel.

fingers crossed

Waffle and sausage gravy was a little bit of all right. Of course, I now have leftover sausage gravy for the ages. Could be worse, I guess.

The cats have been Sorting Out. Rookie was oppressing Tali, and Firefly intervened, apparently tutoring Tali on the one-paw power-smack between the ears, and the Ol’ Knock Him Over and Kick Him in the Stomach Routine.

Firefly and Rook just had a bite together, and Tali is lounging beneath the dining room table. As soon as my second cup of tea is finished, I’m for my chores in the basement.

Still snowing. The City Plow went by a couple minutes ago.

Today’s blog title brought to you by The Talking Heads, specifically one of the songs that Agent of Change was written to, “Life During Wartime.”

Here’s Rook, being appalled that I didn’t save him any breakfast:

They’re rioting in Africa

Friday. Sun behind the clouds, coolish. Supposed to stay that way.

We here in Central Maine stand, battered, snow shovels in hand, beneath a Winter Storm Watch. Heavy snow with sleet predicted from this evening through tomorrow evening. The danger now, aside slick roads and travel surfaces, is ice coated limbs and wires coming down.

Today may be the day the heart monitor goes back in its box and goes home to Boston. It has been progressively losing its mind, but this morning, it wants to be charged. This despite having been charged all night. I moved it into my office and plugged it into another working plug, and still it cries out for life-giving electricity.

I am so done with this device.

I tried to call the cardiologist’s office, and got the It’s Too Early message, which was bemusing, because I’d slept long and hard, and got up late. And yet? It still lacks a few minutes til 8 am.

Well.

I s’pose I ought to get a kettle on for tea and go find some pants.

How’s your Friday starting out?

Following up.

It’s now very sunny in my office. I chose to put on one of Steve’s nice heavy Carhartt flannel shirts, which may prove to be overkill, but is comfy, anyway.

Breakfast was tomato and swiss cheese sandwich. Second cup of tea by my side. Possibly, I will call in lunch. If I order from Asian Cafe, I’ll have enough leftovers to last the weekend.

I did speak with the cardiologist’s office, and, as I was explaining the problem, the heart monitor decided that it was charged. I did some guided punching of buttons, and the device does seem to be working, for very flexible values of “working,” so I can’t get rid of it quite yet, more’s the pity.

The cardiologist’s receptionist wanted to let me know that they were *there* for me until May 28. I asked her what was going to happen after that, and she said, “Oh! You haven’t heard? The hospital –” No, I said, I had heard that. What I wanted to know was what was going to happen after May 28 when I had no cardiologist. “Oh! Call your PCP.” My PCP, says I, is also attached to the hospital. He’s going to be vanishing, too. “Yes. But he will be able to refer you to other doctors. The hospital is working on a plan, but it’s not solid yet.”

By reports, the hospital knew it was going to have to close two years. And yet! They announce a month ago that they’re closing in June, and it has no plan for its patients, for whom they apparently accept no responsibility. Shame on you, Inland/Northern Light. As for referring to “other doctors,” I believe I mentioned here that the Other Hospital is laying off doctors and staff because they, too, are bleeding $$s.

In view of the upcoming weather, I’m going to call the vet and see if I can get another scant jar of prednisone for Trooper. I’ve taken to mixing it in the gravy food, because he hates the syringe and he’s too strong for me to hold when he’s determined. The old system was that Steve would hold the cat and I would administer the drug, but that’s no longer playable.

So, aside from one’s duty the cats, and going out for meds and more of the cat gravy, my plan is to do ASL homework and write.

That’s it. Yes, it’s a boring plan, but it’s MY plan.

Today’s title brought to you by The Kingston Trio, “The Merry Minuet“

Nobody right til somebody wrong

What went before: Wrote 980 new words this afternoon. Again, they may not be beautiful words, but you can’t fix the words you don’t write.

I am … not in a good frame of mind. I did subscribe to The Atlantic and ill-advisedly looked up our names in the database of stolen works.

Every. Word. either of us has ever written, in every translation has been ripped off. Even if they’re made to “pay,” there’s nothing that can balance this theft. I know I’m only one of a vast number of colleagues who have also had their work vacuumed up to feed the greed of rich men. The number of people who hooked school the day “Stealing is Wrong,” was taught passes belief.

And here I sit, trying to write a book. And I really wonder why.

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Thursday, sunny and warm(ish).

Breakfast was hummus, naan, and an orange. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch is again on its own.

I’ve been up for a while, though late getting to my updates. I had some correspondence that needed to be answered, and some cats that needed to be snuggled. Figured out how to get from end of this scene to the beginning of that scene. Gordy needs to make a choice, here, and while I know what the choice is, he has to actually do the work of reasoning his way to it.

Thus, the difference between authors and characters.

I haven’t seen anything to the contrary, so I’m expecting there’s ASL class this evening. I should do one more review, and I also want to get Gordy to his decision, so I’ll mostly be here at the desk today.

I want to thank everyone who spoke to the value they place on the universe Steve and I worked in for more than 40 years. Your regard means a lot.

However, as I said elsewhere — the core problem with our society is this notion that awarding someone a dollar amount rectifies a wrong. The only people punished by being made to pay an amount of money to “rectify” a wrong are those people who have no money to being with. Rich people laugh, pay the fine, laugh, and continue down their road, having learned nothing, and utterly without remorse.

In the case of the theft of my life’s work, I don’t want money. (I have never been motivated by money. If I had, I wouldn’t have become a writer, even in a world where my work wasn‘t simultaneously considered frivolous and valuable enough to steal.) I want Balance. I want Them, in the words once written by an author, to lose something that means as much to them as those stories mean to me. I want them to hurt, and to cry, and to bear the scars of their wrongdoing forever.

NPC, indeed.

deep breath

Bedtime reading lately has been Very Nice Funerals, by Crusie and Mayer, the second Rocky Start book. I think the third’s one out now. I should look into that.

I note that Tuesday, April 1, is Book Day for Diviner’s Bow, for those of you who preordered from Amazon, BN, &c. I’ll have to find my Book Releasing Clothes.

So! What’s everybody reading that’s fun?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Mr. Eric Clapton: “It’s in the way that you use it”

Cat census below:

The History of The Stuffed Animal Tea

What went before: So, I decided to take advantage of the nice day, and drove down to Belfast. There was a surprising amount of traffic — I forgot it was Maine Maple Weekend — and when I say “surprising amount of traffic,” that’s for Maine values of traffic.

The public landing was full when I got there, so I parked in the lot on Prospect Street, and had a walk around town. Bought a meat mallet to replace the mallet Steve got rid of (I don’t remember why, and because when I had to pound the chicken breasts, I used a can, and that didn’t work out well for the can) and a set of measuring spoons at The Good Table, and some jewelry cleaner at Coyote Moon.

I love Coyote Moon; it’s been in Belfast since we first drove into town, and probably longer. This is not the timeline where their clothes fit me, but they also stock a sufficiency of Interesting Other Things, which makes it a fun place to visit.

Had a sandwich and a cup of tea for lunch at the co-op, and bought a bag or Bob’s Red Mill oatmeal, because I’m almost out of oatmeal, and I can’t find Bob’s reliably in the Hannaford. Also bought some dried pineapple rounds which is a treat that I love beyond reason. I was sad to find that they no longer carry the Lundberg black rice, which had (briefly) become a favorite of mine.

This was the first time I’d been in the co-op since they FINISHED finished the make over. It’s now a very handsome, well-lit modern facility that still retains an air of the older space. Very well done. I spent a good bit of time just wandering around, admiring everything. VERY much appreciated are the updated bathrooms. She said prosaically.

The shopkeepers were all happy to see customers and chatty — the proprietor at Yo Mama! showed me pictures on her phone of the snow they had in Belfast yesterday, instead of our torrential rains. I wandered around the Green Store, and the alpaca store (full! sized! plushy! alpaca! in the window (not for sale) and! I managed to resist buying one of the very much smaller ones that were for sale).

So, anyhoot, I’m home again, have eaten a scone, and need to do some minor chores, like emptying the dishwasher and taking the cat litter that was delivered to the garage yesterday downstairs, after which I believe I will — read.

Yeah — a Compleat Writer’s Day Off. How daring.

#

Sunday. Sunny. Chillier than it was yesterday, as we prepare for tomorrow’s snow.

My subject this morning is The Stuffed Animal Tea and how it came to be.

It started, then, with Lord Black Cat.

Steve and I were at Boskone (which Boskone, you ask? It was during our Very Busy Traveling Years, and was in fact the Boskone where Robert Silverberg came into the dealer’s room during set up, saw me behind the Meisha Merlin table and told me that he hoped I wasn’t going to be selling books. This has been years ago, and I still can’t figure out if he was kidding.). We were in fact in the dealer’s room, talking to a group of people, and Steve was saying that he missed the cats. I happened to look aside, and there, on the table right next to us, was a cat stuffy. I picked it up and brought it over to Steve, who immediately demanded to know where I’d gotten it and if it was for sale. And it turned out that the owner of the table was among our group of idle chatters and she sold it to him on the spot.

Steve arranged his new friend in his camera bag, so the cat could look out, and off we went to the con.

Many people stopped us to admire the cat, which did not yet have a name, and, I confess that we didn’t know we had a particular cat until a fan stopped, eyes on the cat, bowed, and said, “Kuroneko-sama, welcome to Boskone.” (Number Eight Million Twenty-One on the list of Why I Like Fans.)

We were quickly put into possession of several facts: Kuroneko was from a manga called Trigun, and his name roughly translated was Lord Black Cat.

So, now the cat had a name.

We continued our conly rounds and duties, and people stopped us every so often to say hello to the cat, and were introduced, and pretty often said, “I miss my cat/dog/hamster/parrot.” So, we got to asking people if they hadn’t considered bringing a stuffy with them.

This is where it got interesting. Most of the people we spoke to said that they had a stuffy in the room. I started to ask why they didn’t bring their friend with them, and most said something on the order of “Oh, well, they’re shy, and there’s nobody for them to talk to, anyway.”

On the way home, I remember saying to Steve, “You know? It would be really cool if there was an event for the stuffies, so they could meet each other and not just be by themselves in the room.”

Fast-forward a bit and we’re invited to PenguiCon 4.0. And they want us to do an “event.” An event? And Steve said, “Well, what about your idea of the stuffed animals having a party?” So, we told PenguiCon that we would like to host a Teddy Bear Tea.

Now, it happened that the Looney Lab folk were also Guests of Honor and unbeknowst to us, Alison Looney traveled with several bears and hosted Teddy Bear teas at cons. So, our first Stuffed Animal Event was co-hosted.

It was notable for a few things. One was that someone who had gotten married at the con the day before had donated what was left of her wedding cake to the tea. The other was that the Event was held in an open lobby space directly across from a room being used for readings. The Stuffed Animals, I’m not sorry to say, were a little, um, loud, and the acoustics of the space were what you would expect of a hotel lobby. I’m going to say it was John Scalzi, and he will of course amend my memory if it’s wrong, who was reading, sent one of his listeners to find out what was going on. Said listener came out, asked questions, was given a piece of wedding cake, and went back to report that it was a reception.

So, as it is truly said, In Fandom, if A Thing happens once, it’s a Tradition, whenever Steve and I were Writer GOHs, going forward, and if we were asked to host An Event, we said that we would be pleased to host a Stuffed Animal Tea.

It’s been a lovely tradition; so beautiful to see the stuffies bloom as they’re introduced to each other. And it’s also been interesting to see how the various conventions have interpreted the concept of “Tea” — from a panel room with an electric tea pot, some paper cups and tea bags on the back table with the water, to full-out formal teas, with cucumber sandwiches, and scones. In Pittsburgh, our hostess pulled out her mother’s china and tea service and we had homemade cookies and tea cakes. At — I don’t remember where, and I’m sorry for it, there were tots of sherry on offer. At Heliosphere, we had The Works.

Here ends the history lesson. Below, a picture of Lord Black Cat in his camera bag, and from his attendance at the PenguiCon 4.0 tea.