Tag: the writing life

Resting and the writer

So, the announcement that Kin Rights is completed and only waiting for its laggard author to complete the “Cast of Characters” so it can get on the bus to the Baen Publishing Empire in North Carolina, has produced a . . . very strange surge of mail, which I shall answer here.

I happened to mention that, after Kin Right is sent on, I will be completing art, chores, and both necessary and pleasurable tasks that had been set aside to accommodate the finishing of this book, after which, I would be prepping for the next.

Now, without exception my correspondents are delighted to hear that there will be a next book, but I’m also urged to “take care of myself,” which ideal seems to include not writing, as long as the bills are paid.

While I appreciate the out-pouring of concern for my well-being, there are some things here that need to be unpacked.  I’m pretty sure I’ve addressed all of these at one time or another, but I haven’t, perhaps, put them all in one place, so!  Here we go.

First, and as clearly as I can:  There are two more books under contract after Kin Right.  In lay terms:  I have work, and the employment contract runs for a couple years yet.

Secondly, also as clearly as I can:  Writing pays the bills.  That includes the donations through Patreon and other places, which happen because I’m a writer, and people want to support the production of more stories, and not because I’m a widowed cat-lady.

Thirdly, this “rest” that my well-wishers want me to take, is not, in my world, a benign state.   I’m one of those people who have an adversarial relationship with their brain.  If I don’t keep it busy, it turns on me, and that way lies depression and existential pain and a whole buncha very dark roads that I don’t ever want to walk down.  This means that, even were I not under contract, I would still be writing, and not “resting,” simply in order to ensure my own survival.

Thank you all for your support and your concern.  I do appreciate your care.  Even Rookie appreciates your care.  Here, see:

And now I believe I will go make some oatmeal cookies.

Everybody stay well.

 

That ain’t workin’

Lazy Monday. Glary and already warmer than it was yesterday. The weatherbeans have put all their tokens down on 60F/16C.

I slept “late,” had a leisurely shower, sat in the window while Tali stood on my lap and slapped me with her tail (in her defense, there are a zillion crazy little brown birds hopping around the lawn). Had cottage cheese and some grapes and called it breakfast. Not sure what I’m going to do about lunch. Take out? I finished a book, after all. That used to be an excuse — like we needed one — to celebrate.

Made a list of things to do after I finish up the bookkeeping parts of Kin Right, and it turns out that I have A Number of things to catch up before I have to start the next book, in addition to having time to bake, so that’s a relief.

Today’s plan, as soon as I’m finished here, is to start putting my working Weird Words List into some kind of order, and to finish the laundry. In re the latter, I can report that the first load of towels is in the washer, and the cats are in Steve’s office, doubtless writing a Memo to be placed in my file.

How’s Monday starting out for you?

And today’s blog post title is of course brought to you by Dire Straits, “Money for Nothin‘”

Wrapping up a Thursday

And! The caution tape trick worked for the second day in a row.

Unlooked-for side effect: my next door neighbor saw the tape and got in touch to ask if my door was acting up again, because — caution tape. I explained. I think Chewy owes the cats one more box, so we’ll be doing this again tomorrow, though with different caution tape, because I unfortunately did not hide today’s tape, Rookie managed to tape himself up with (thankfully) the painter’s tape and by the time I caught and untangled him, the caution tape was a loss.

For those following along at home — it looks like the book I’m finishing up now will be scheduled for Spring 2027, month of release to be determined.

Back to work I go.
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Well. I did finish the WIP. I did not print it out, because I still have some housekeeping to do — notably trying to tidy up the section headers. So, that’s for tomorrow, and then print out and read.

In other news, Google tells me it’s going to snow tomorrow. Wunderground begs to differ, predicting rain tomorrow and snow on Sunday-into-Monday. So, I guess we’ll see.

I had been kinda lookin’ for a day when I could scooch down to an oceanside somewhere, being as I will be shortly be a Free Woman, but it’s looking like the first day without any shenanigans planned is next Friday. Well. I can always finish my poor, neglected glass project.

Or, yanno, bake bread? I could bake bread, people! And — cookies, and muffins, and — Good Ghod — the sky’s the limit, here.

*deep breath*

…a brief break to feed the tiny, starved, and abused kittens I rescued from a Mean Writer Lady who never fed them or brushed them or fed them or played with them or fed them…

I really don’t know how people can be so cruel.

So! Tomorrow Sarah will arrive in the morning, and I will retire to Steve’s office to straighten out the header problem, and then I will make the lunch I had planned to make today, but I was writing, so I ate a TV dinner outta the freezer instead, and print out a book.

And on that note — g’night. Everybody stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

With fingernails that shine like justice

Thursday. Cloudy and cold. Another Chewy box incoming today (Thank you, Chewy, for breaking the Mega Order up into multiple deliveries). Caution tape with affixed message in place across the front steps.

Slept well. Tali was on bed duty last night, and Tali makes for a definite Presence, pressed up against one’s side. She also has a nice, deep purr. Breakfast will be the second half of the Farmer’s Market Asagio Cheese bagel (Note To Self: STOP buying Maine bagels*. You know they will break your heart. Buy bread. Buy cookies, cake, pie. But not bagels. And if you buy rolls, stop expecting them to be hard, even if they look like hard rolls.), with cheddar cheese melted on top, with a side of grapes. Lunch will be black beans, and leftover pork, and, oh, I dunno? canned tomatoes? and whatever spices seem good. I should have leftovers from whatever that turns out to be, so yay.

Today, she said, boldly. Today! I will finish the WIP. I need to buff, polish, and shine the last two scenes, then I will Print Out the Whole Book, and tomorrow, or maybe Saturday, I’ll do a complete read-through. Barring the discovery of any Catastrophic Holes, which this is why we do the read-through, it will be ready to file a flight plan with the tower.

Once it’s gone, I can fall on my face (REMINDER: place pillow before falling).

What’s happening with you today?
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*Exception to the Rule: Sunrise Bagels, which requires me to get up early and go out to buy them, but that’s a Me Problem, not a Them Problem.

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Cake, “Short Skirt, Long Jacket.”  Yes, again.

The line’s not cut, and the whale’s not gone…

The cats’ Chewy order, which is large and heavy is due today, delivery by FedEx. I have made what preparations I can.

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Wednesday. Sunny, windy and cold. As previously mentioned, I have taped caution tape across the front steps with a sign on it for FedEx, so maybe they’ll put the delivery in the garage this time. Fingers crossed.

Another night full of bad dreams and sleeplessness. This is getting to be a habit. Cats are doing what they can but… Firefly is putting in for backup and I don’t think we can get backup, really.   No, especially not a dog.  I think we’re full up. I also think it would be better if the world weren’t, in some places literally, on fire.

Today’s days plan is to occupy the comfy chair in my office and sketch out the scenes that need to still be written to finish the book.

Granting, it’s not much of a plan, but it is my own.

How’s everybody doing?

Dictated to my phone

Today’s blog post brought to you by “The Wellerman,” which I had forgotten I knew, until it came up on a mix, and I started to sing along…  Here’s Nathan Evans singing it for you.

St. Gertrude’s Day 2026

What went before: Still raining, but not pouring. We are this evening expecting, say the weatherbeans, the following: WIND, FOG, FLOODING. Tomorrow, it will be partly sunny, starting out at around 53F/12C and loosing heat throughout the day, until nosediving into the teens tomorrow night, reaching a high of 33F/.5C on Wednesday.

Ah, March. You tease.

The book club has chosen the April book: Theo of Golden, which ought to be interesting, given that the synopsis annoys the ever-livin’ life outta me. It will be interesting to see if the author can win me over.

The Cook Unity mushroom pot pie was so good I ferreted out a recipe so I can make my own once I’m off deadline. Speaking of which — I am now confident of making my deadline, so, yanno, yay.

Also — I beg pardon to those folks who thought I’d written the poem that is my next embroidery project. Indeed, I Did Not, and it’s something that I know so well that it never occurred to me that other people would not have heard of it. The poem dates back to the 800s, and is written in the margins of a book of reflections and/or prayers. Wikipedia can tell you all about it, and give you the other four stanzas, too. Here’s your link.

And that? Is all I got. Except doing the dishes. That I still need to do.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. And dry.
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Tuesday. Cloudy, damp, and breezy. We have hit the day’s high of 53F/12C as I type, and are headed for 15F/-9C.

Today is St. Gertrude’s Day. Hug your cats.

Today, right about now (7-ish am, Maine time), in fact, is also the sixth anniversary of my arrival at Inland Hospital in Bangor in order to undergo a mascetomy. I was one of the last people admitted to the hospital before it closed in the early days of COVID, and it was a tense couple minutes there at intake before it was decided that Steve could accompany me.

Last night was filled with bad dreams, despite all the cats could bring. I believe this morning may call for coffee.

What’s happening at your place?
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Well. The cats have made a Chewy order. I’m glad Firefly has a trust fund. I’m drinking that cup of coffee and wondering if the concept of ‘breakfast’ is anything I want to entertain at the moment, or if I’ll just make another cup of coffee and go to work.

Life is uncertain…

PSA

OK, folks. I am behind on everything, and also helpfully experiencing rolling waves of angst.

I am therefore going electron-free in order to ease some of the wear-and-tear on the auctorial nervous system.

Y’all stay safe. Be kind to each other. Feel free to talk among yourselves. Older hands know where the snacks and beverages are — help out the newbies, ‘k?

Later.

Shoulda stood in bed

Firefly and Rook did their best to get me to go back to bed this morning, but I was adamant.

Well. My weather-delayed CookUnity order arrived five minutes ago, and all the meals, of course, are “use by 3/11.” So, I’m guessing I’ll find out how well a couple of these freeze.

The ice packs were still solid and the meals are cold, so I’m guessing they’ll be OK to eat.

Today was not the most productive day ever. I should actually have gone back to bed this morning, but I fixed that by taking a two hour nap. Still not feeling top o’the world, but at least I’m less weepy.

Tomorrow, is Errands, finishing up with needlework.

The ice in the driveway is gone, just in time for the temps to plunge into the high 30sF on Wednesday. Now, I need to figure out what parts of this enormous, but extremely well-insulated, box are recyclable.

On that note — everybody have a good evening. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Write like a girl

Monday. Full moon shining down through the clerestory window in my office.

It has been a long, strange day. I wrote, broke for lunch, and did a few chores, then when back and wrote some more. Ghod this is easier with two brains. Ahem. Having said that, I’m not precisely sure where the day went.

It must have been the Gala Celebrations that put me on the wrong foot.

Now I know that my tax rate has increased from 12% to 21%, and what that means in actual dollar$, I was able to write the check to pay off the installation of the sliding doors in Steve’s office. And there will be no more of that sort of frivolity in my life going forward, ref 21% above.

Tomorrow is All Errands All The Time. Wednesday and Thursday, most of Friday and Saturday, Sunday, and Monday are cleared for writing. Also, I really wish my brain was on my side, rather than the chancy ally it is. Flogging myself into a lather is really counterproductive, but all I can do is work around it.

I am, for those who have not given up on the whole Liaden Read-along, currently reading Scout’s Progress, which, every time I read it, I think “Yanno? This is my favorite Liaden novel.” It, with Local Custom, are of course the two Liaden novels Most Vilified by the Real Man Chapter of Real SF Readers.

Steve got not one, not two, not six, but many letters from chapter members urging him to “take control of his wife,” “clear all that relationship crap out,” and “write ‘real’ stories”. It would have been comical if they hadn’t been so angry.

I’m reminded of … Hawthorne? “That damned mob of scribbling women?” — I’m pretty sure it was Hawthorne. Local Custom and Scout’s Progress are worldbuilding masterpieces, though I say it of my own work. In addition, they are subversive, as all “real” fiction should be, and SF most of all. The characterization is flawless, the dialog is lovely, and — I’m just really proud of them, right?

But because they show the differences between cultures in terms of relationships, and families; in terms of the welfare of a child, and a woman who isn’t safe in her home — they were, as several chapter members who probably had never read one opined — “Mills and Boon garbage.” As well as “a disgrace,” and “not SF at all.”

Well. Rant off, I suppose. I should get something to eat, and a glass of wine seems to be in order.

I hope everyone had a good day. Yes, I’ve seen the news.

Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.