the writing life – Page 8 – Sharon Lee, Writer

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:

In Which the Poolish Survives the Night

What went before: I did finish “Core Values” last night — go, me!

I have a bunch of these little so-called Spot thermometers from ThermoWorks, and I put them in various places, trying to find the warmest place to overnight the poolish. It turns out that the dining room microwave is by far the warmest spot.

Onward.

Sunday. Still dim, but I can see an orange crack in the sky behind the trees.

Got up early to check the poolish, which — Against All Odds — not only survived the night, but was bubbly and stinky, and Just What the Baker Wanted.

Dough is in for the first rise. I’m drinking my first cup of tea and should probably turn my thoughts toward breakfast.

For those following along at home, it turns out that the Heritage Microwave in the dining room is the warmest spot in the kitchen-and-kitchen-adjacent rooms, by a good 2 degrees, so that’s where the poolish overnighted, to what success we have seen.

Aside the baking of bread, today is Tax Paperwork Review, and filing, because I let it stack up again, banking, and other mundane details — and I’ve got to finally deal with the whole stevemillerwrites thing, which I’m still inclined to let go.

I see that we’re starting to play Twenty Questions regarding the new director. I’m not just being playful; I don’t want to jinx anything. Believe me, I’m just as excited as you are. We can all practice Being Patient together.

So, that’s what’s exciting at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, this early Sunday morning.

Who else is having an exciting morning?

In which there will be the baking of bread

What went before: Still not finished the story, but! I feel much better about the story as a whole. It’s a rare wonder what the Active Voice will accomplish. I know I keep saying this, but! Maybe I’ll finish it tomorrow.

Also, I could really feel my brain clicking along, rather than struggling for each paragraph, so, yanno, I may be able to write a book sometime realsoonnow.

Onward!

Saturday. Sunny and the ‘beans are calling for a high of 24F/-4C.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with ham, cheese, onions, and toast. Kettle’s on for my second cup of tea. Lunch will be chili.

Today I’m working on the story, but, also! I intend to bake French bread this weekend. I was going to get into making bread every week, but the Lightning Turnaround on Diviner’s Bow, followed by getting sick, twice, kind of threw those rosy plans into the bin.

This recipe is a little tricky because you have to make the poolish the night before and let it rest overnight at “room temperature.” Overnight “room temperature” here at the Confusion Factory is 60F/16C, which is a little cool for dough, and of course the silly electric stove doesn’t have a pilot light (yes, yes, still bitter about having to give up my lovely propane stove). I guess I’ll just cover it and set it in the microwave to rise.

Assuming all goes well, and the poolish rises as should, this will be the inaugural use of the baking stone. I really hope I can pull this off; the batards I made at King Arthur Flour school were amazing, and I’ve been wanting more ever since I ate the last slice.

I also have a recipe for oatmeal blueberry lemon breakfast muffins that I’m wanting to try, but not today. I need to seek clarity of the differences between the “quick-cooking rolled oats” called for in the recipe and the Red Mill Old Fashioned Rolled Oats which is the household go-to.

Yeah, looks like I’m pretty much back online.

Those who follow the writing schedule should be aware that the deadline for the book after Diviner’s Bow (deadline=when I am to turn the book in) is April 15, 2026. This means there will probably not be a new Liaden book in 2026 (unless Baen opts to do the Lightning Thing again). I’m sorry about that, but I really need to protect my brain, which, aside the coon cats, is the Number One resource of the House.

Regarding The Big Cat Hunt — there is a cat show this weekend, so planning is on hold until next week. Watch the skies.

I think that’s all I’ve got.

What’s on the books for you this weekend?

Oh, hey, let’s do the Time Warp, again. Sharon Lee at Boskone 45. Photo by Steve Miller.

Low Goal Thursday

Shameless Self-Promotion: Remember! In Just! Five! Days! the audio edition of Sea Wrack and Changewind (ALL of the Archers Beach stories), by Sharon Lee, narrated by Alex Picard, will be available from Tantor Media. Here’s the link.

Thursday. Dim and warmer. By which I mean it was 5F/-15C when I woke up. Supposed to hit the dizzying high temp of 24F/-4C before quittin’ time.

Breakfast was ham and mustard on an English muffin, with grapes. Second cup of tea helped me write a letter. Lunch will be…damn, I knew the answer to that question — oh! Yam stirfry. Good day for it, looks like.

As reported elsewhere, I have an appointment to get my hairs cut this morning. Since I’m letting the tax packet rest, I intend to get with “Core Values” and finish the last scene. After that, maybe some straightening up of the living room, which still has laptops and notebooks scattered ’round. So, not a big day, goal-wise.

What are your goals, today?

She thought of heat; she thought of time

What went before: I worked on taxes yesterday, which was more challenging than I had expected. It’s not like Steve did the taxes, after all. But, in a normal year, this is the place where I would have started nagging him to get me those items and expenses that I did not have through doing the general house and business accounting. This would have gone on for . . . a while — there was some math involved in how long he would put me off before he believed that I was serious — and then the info would appear.

It just feels really wrong that I — have all that information in hand. Right now, and can proceed with adding/subtracting and filling in the blanks.

Onward!

Wednesday. Sunlight an orange glow behind the trees -9F/-23C. Weatherbeans calling for a high of 18F/-8C.

I’m evaluating my need to go out today. I don’t need anything from the grocery store that can’t wait until tomorrow, and while I really *do* need a haircut, I’ll not be receiving today. I haven’t been to the post office in almost two weeks, but I’m not expecting anything urgent, and the post office lobby, where the mailboxes are, is toasty warm, comparatively. On the other hand, tomorrow’s high of 25F/-4 isn’t going to be *that* much warmer. And on the gripping hand! I do *have* a Big Coat. Heck, I have TWO Big Coats — Steve’s parka, and my knee-length puffer coat.

It may come down to a coin flip at 10 am.

But, first! Breakfast. Which was! Cottage cheese with a side of muffin. And tea. Lunch will be leftover split pea, lentil, and ham soup. Kettle on for second cup of tea.

Cat search update: Three inquiries written; 1 answer in the negative received.

I feel — well, and am theoretically TNC (Theoretically Not Contagious). Hoping to stay that way. Though I will be masking when I go out.

If I don’t go out and do errands, then I’ll finish what I can of the taxes with the information in-house, after which it will be the long game of waiting for other people to get their acts together and send me paperwork.

If I do venture out into The Elements to accomplish my errands, then I’ll possibly take the rest of the day off, or maybe see if I can discover that last scene for the story that’s been in progress far too long so I can put it up on Splinter Universe.

. . . one of the things that’s been coming around on the guitar, as the vernacular has it, is the realization that I have wanted to be a writer since I was aware of “wanting to be” something. This predates Steve and cats, and I got to wondering how common that is, that people have known for their whole lives what they “wanted to be.”

So, I’m throwing it out to y’all — when did you (if you did) realize what you “wanted to be”?

Today’s blog post brought to you by Bill Morrissey, “Birches”

Rook joined me for breakfast. Not that he had any of my breakfast; he likes to sit on my lap while I finish my tea, and take a bath, because, yanno, bellies don’t clean themselves.

Herding Cats

What went before: Under Old Business: There have been ongoing discussions between the stakeholders here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory regarding whether or not to bring on a fourth cat. This continues a topic under discussion last February before we jumped from the Timeline That Made Sense to our present position on the Timeline That Doesn’t Make Sense.

Yesterday, the question was called, and all present voted ‘Aye’ with the provision that said new hire would be an older cat, which is to say, not a baby kitten, but a retiree or so-called “older” kitten. We also confirmed that said new hire should be a “kind” of cat — that is to say, a breed. This is nothing against shelter cats; Nicky, Hypatia, Kodi, Max!, and Scrabble were all shelter cats. However, it was felt that, with current crew in-house all being Maine Coons, it would be best to stick with a Clan that’s known to be mellow.

The Secretary of the Board has been directed to seek out possible new hires of the breeds Birman, Maine Coon, Ragdoll, Siberian. One such letter was written yesterday, and has received a reply in the negative.

And that brings us to!

Tuesday. Sunny and cold. Trash and recycling — isn’t that much, I’m lazy, it’s cold — so — next week.

Sun is pouring into my office, but it’s still chilly enough to warrant wearing The Big Fleece Sweater.

Breakfast was an English Muffin with seedless raspberry jelly, an orange, and tea. Kettle on for second cup of tea. Lunch will either be leftover soup, or something else.

I feel — fine. I still do have one day’s worth of meds to finish out, and knock wood that will be the end of that.

I’ve written to a cattery that we had spoken with before Steve died, and have a couple more, non-cat-related, letters to write, but today is mostly going to be dedicated to hitting the Tax Paperwork and seeing how much — and what — Stuff I still need before I can send it on to Gary the Accountant.

Firefly and Rook enjoyed an early game of tag, which Trooper opted out of. Trooper is presently on my copilot’s chair, snoring; Firefly went back to Steve’s office, and I believe I saw Rook heading down the hall to join her.

Summing up — a quiet day planned here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

What are your plans for the day?

Doctor, Doctor, Mister MD

What went before: Yesterday was all errands all day. The cover art for Diviner’s Bow is with the framer, and I should have it back by mid-February. There came up for discussion the always interesting question of which band did the superior version of “Good Lovin'” — the Grateful Dead or the Young Rascals. Facebook is leaning toward the Rascals. I now open the question up to those reading here. Here’s the Dead’s version. Here’s the Rascals’ version.

Onward.

Tuesday. Cloudy and cool. Snowed a tiny bit on the overnight. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Woke up sneezing and hacking, so — no sewing circle for me today. Grr. I did mask everywhere I went yesterday, and a good thing too, I’m thinking.

Breakfast was an English muffin with cream cheese and an orange. I only have two of the little oranges left. *adds to list* Lunch will be … um.

Rookie decided to help me choose my day wear this morning, and as a result got locked in a closet for a few minutes. I called him; he answered; and I let him out. It’s nice to have a cat who answers when he’s called.

Having been let out, he had to go get Grandpa to Show Him, I suppose, but neither one could get the door open again.

So, I guess today is stay at home and poke at things, but not too energetically.

I think my next audiobook will be Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, another frequent reread for me. I finished reading Midlife in Gretna Green last night. I had a good time with it, and there are six (?) more, I hear.

The backbrain has been providing snips of scenes and various insights for the next book, so Not Writing is paying its dividends. I plan to continue Not Writing today.

What are your plans for the day?

In Which the Writer is NOT Writing

What Went Before: Last night, as part of the curriculum of Not Writing, I watched a show on PBS Passport called SAFE HARBORS, which is a tour of 65 Maine lighthouses (I note here that this is not all of the lighthouses in Maine, and also that I’ve been to/seen a surprising number of them). I urge everyone to find this show and watch it (I’m told it’s soon to come to YouTube). It’s not a documentary, there’s no narration, only music and these incredible, incredible views of the lighthouses.

Moving on to!

Friday. Chilly, lots of puffy white clouds moving fast across a mostly blue sky.

Tea brewing. Breakfast will be cottage cheese, corn flat (I’ve forgotten what they’re called — Thomas’ Toaster something. As a substitute for corn bread, it’s not. Next time, I’ll make my own. — and grapes. Lunch — I guess fish and — something.

I see there are as many as half-a-dozen folks admitting to having read Diviner’s Bow — thank you and I hope you had fun. Do remember the spoiler space, and to drop a review at Goodreads or other venue of your choice.

Regarding the spoiler space, I am going to vary. It has been the authors’ policy not to be involved in those discussions, merely releasing messages after a scan for politeness &c. This time, I have a Question Regarding Craft that you, the readers of this particular work, can help me with. So, I’ll be posing my question in the spoiler discussion, and I thank all participants in advance for your patience and your assistance.

Today is another No-I-Am-NOT-Writing Day. This is kind of hardcore, but I’ve got to get my brain back, and the best thing I know to do is Do Other Things. If the weather were more clement, I’d go for a drive, but I think that’s off the table. *looks out window at the wind shaking the crab apple tree* Yeah. Off the table.

What I will be doing is taking down the wreath, which has started to lose needles, and changing out the 2024 moon phase calendar for the 2025. Also, there’s rumors of the June royalties in the bank, so I’ll be doing some cash juggling.

I read an interesting article last night about the Five of Cups, which is typically rendered as a Card of Loss. In traditional decks, the image is of a figure and five cups, three of which are overturned; two remaining upright. The figure is focused on the overturned cups — thus the loss. However, the two unregarded cups, still full, sitting behind the figure, hint that all, perhaps, is *not* lost.

It will surprise no one here to learn that my favorite tarot deck is not a traditional deck, but the Halloween Tarot, which I find both joyful and accessible. In this deck, the suits are Pumpkins (Pentacles), Ghosts (Cups), Bats (Swords), and Imps (Wands).

The Five of Ghosts, then: a central figure, gazing downward, clearly disconcerted or sad; there is a bucket on the ground directly behind him. Around the figure are five ghosts, hovering in a sky with five stars. The ghosts are also disconcerted, following the central figure’s downward gaze. The black cat (which appears in all of the cards in this deck) is in the foreground, looking at the ghosts.

I was at first somewhat alarmed. Playful my deck might be, but it stringently adheres to the Language of the Tarot, and this card varied and not in a good way. It seemed to withhold the promise of those two, unspilled, cups, not only going against the Language, but the spirit of the deck itself.

So, I sat with the card for a while, and it came to me, finally, that one of the ghosts was not focused on the disaster, whatever it was. It was focused on the figure, and its arms were outstretched, as if it would offer comfort. And then, of course, there’s the bucket, sitting quietly — empty or full, but not spilled. The Language remains pure, and the card remains true to itself and the deck.

So, that.

What’s surprised you recently?

Wake-up cat census: