the writing life – Page 7 – Sharon Lee, Writer

I have only come here seeking knowledge

What Went Before: Well! That was a productive running of errands. The only thing I didn’t get done was getting the car washed, because the entire city had that same idea.

I have One! Gotten my ears (re)pierced, a chain shortened and fitted out with magnets.

Two! Stopped at Holy Cannoli. Because I am Weak. Bought a pumpkin chocolate chip cookie bigger than my head (so I can have a cookie to eat while I’m baking cookies), and also a ginormous chunk of spinach lasagna, which is at least two meals and maybe three.

Three! Bought too much stuff at the grocery store, including Maine Root root beer, because if you’re going to buy things you don’t really need, buy the Good Stuff. I noted with dismay the lack of eggs and the thinness of milk. Saw two people I haven’t seen for more than a year. One was Steve’s former boss at the library, who introduced me to her grandkids, one of whom is taller than I am. The other was the guy who had owned our neighborhood liquor store when we lived in Waterville, and I did tear up talking to him — sorry, Joe, but no, I’m not really getting “accustomed.”

Four! Checked the post office box. No mail.

Five! Got home in time to greet the FedEx truck, which offloaded two packages, neither one of them my keyboard.

The oven is now heating so that it will be worthy to receive lasagna. I’ve already scheduled a haircut, and Trooper’s annual wellness check with the vet.

Tali is not sure I live here, even after the other three cats came to give me welcome-home bumps.

Sometime later: 500ish words written on my lovely repaired keyboard, which brings the total WIP in its various pieces to +/-10,600 words.

Trooper is insisting that Happy Hour is late, but he is not yet correct.

I made a batch of cookies, so the Rolanni Red Alert is no longer in force.

Tali is willing to have me live here if I’ll feed her. Of course, she says that now.

Oh! There were three cats in the picture; Trooper was in the copilot’s seat in my office.

Tuesday. Grey but warm. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Woke up at 6, attended to necessary business and went back to bed for another hour and a half. Apparently, I had too much excitement yesterday. I’m still a little fuzzy, so I’m thinking today is going to be the comfy chair in my office, a pad of paper and a pen. Jen Sin still hasn’t opened his mail. That! Man!

Breakfast was large and late: last of the leftover potatoes fried with onion and leftover sausage. Lunch will be (no really) the slice of store-bought quiche that was deferred yesterday in favor of lasagna. We Have A Theme.

Finished reading The Sign of the Dragon by Mary Soon Lee last night. I see that Destiny’s Way from Jack Campbell downloaded this morning, which — you can’t get any more perfect timing than that.

Tali is starting to demand my lap, and is willing to fight Rook for the right. This is a little problematic, being as the household is down a lap, and everyone has lap rights. She is willing to share, which is interesting, and may be workable, if Rook can be made to see the advantages.

Today’s to-do, as above — mostly a writing day, with sides of one’s duty to the cats and remembering to eat lunch.

What’s on your to-do list?

Today’s title brought to you by The Police, “Wrapped Around Your Finger”

Below two pictures: Rook’s selfie, and a picture taken to demonstrate to Alma Alexander that, yes, the cats do use the ring-bed on the floor. When they want to.

This ain’t no kind of living for an honest workin’ man

Monday. Dim and cool. Temps said to be heading for 38F/3C.

Breakfast was a blueberry muffin and brie. Cup of tea to hand. Lunch will likely be some of the store-bought quiche.

We here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory are in a state of emergency — Rolanni Code Red. There are no cookies in the house.

No, I don’t know how this was allowed to happen, either. I suppose I’ll just have to do what Steve did when there weren’t any cookies in the house and! bake some.

Today I have phone calls to make and errands to run. Also, perhaps, some writing to get done. When last seen, Jen Sin had just arrived in his office and does not yet know that there’s a delightful letter from Shan awaiting him, and I really don’t want to keep him too long from his treat.

Yesterday’s conversation with Eileen Stevens was delightful, as always. We have another chat scheduled for Tuesday evening.

For those coming in late — Eileen is narrating Diviner’s Bow, which will be coming from Audible. We don’t have a date yet, but given the drop-deadline for the first cut, the best guess is close to the release of the hardcover.

Meanwhile, in another part of the jungle, Alex Picard will be narrating Ribbon Dance, which, it says here, is to be published by Tantor on August 12.

I do see Ribbon Dance in Audible’s catalog of Liaden books (link scroll to the bottom, just under Diviner’s Bow), so it looks like folks who buy their books from Audible will be able to download it from their Usual Supplier.

Note: The above constitutes the Entire Contents of My Head regarding upcoming audiobooks. If you have Questions beyond what I’ve told you, I can’t answer them. No, really; I can’t.

In so-called Real Life, Informed Delivery, FedEx and UPS all say that I’ll be getting deliveries today — no, wait! tomorrow! Er? Maybe? Sometime?

Of course, the thing I most care about — my keyboard — seems to have gone missing entirely, after apparently sampling the night life in Tacoma WA for a week. And I’m apparently taking delivery of another package from Petco, which — I think Petco has lost count, somewhere. Not that I’m about to turn back cat litter; it’s not going to go bad, after all.

So, the adventurous and slightly confused life of a writer.

How’s your life this morning?

Today’s title brought to you by Jude Cole, “Start the Car”

How many cats are in this picture?

He picks up a bus and he throws it back down

What went before: Lots of staring out the window today. Which counts! Only you it doesn’t show up in the word count, which at close of business today is! +/-10,095 words. A milestone. Only 89,905 words left to go.

Sunday. Cloudy. Snowing very lightly at the moment. Temperatures said to be heading for the upper 30sF.

Sat up late last night, talking with Firefly. I was allowed to sleep in until almost 8am.

Breakfast was a waffle with strawberries and cherry syrup, sausage, tea. Tali is currently occupying my lap, and it is Tali’s philosophy that her tail is magnificent and that if she chooses to smack you in the face with it, your only possible reaction is delight.

I have no idea what lunch will be. I have a couple of choices, including a store-bought quiche — which was actually cheaper than buying eggs to make a quiche — so not likely to starve.

This afternoon, I’m to speak with the narrator for Diviner’s Bow, Eileen Stevens, who has narrated many of our books. Diviner’s Bow will be coming out from Audible very close to the publication of the hardcover. I don’t have a DATE date, but the turnaround time is — very ambitious (what is it with this book that demands kamikaze production?).

In and around that, I have some straightening up to do, one’s duty to the cats, and maybe some writing. We’ll see what happens.

What’s on your schedule today?

Today’s title brought to you by one of the songs Steve and I would always turn up the radio for, and then sing along, and which has become strangely topical. Blue Oyster Cult: “Godzilla.”

After Firefly came home from the vet the other day, Rook tried on her carry box for size. I think I need to go one up, or actually convince him to walk on the leash. He’ll wear his jacket all day long, and proudly, but he still doesn’t get the “let’s take a walk,” thing. He’d rather chew on the leash.

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.