Trooper – Sharon Lee, Writer

Closing Time, Wednesday

The lunchtime report: So, I did go back to the webform and threw in a non-inclusive bunch of titles, so the lawyers can have my contact information (thanks Judy Tarr!). First, and last on the day, load of laundry done; duty to the cats accomplished, walk taken.

Lunch will be baked chicken breast — I bought six last time at the grocery, so I’m baking three and have put three in the freezer — peas, and bread.

Have made minor tweaks and twitches at the WIP Itself, and brain has been chewing on other aspects while I do other things. I like it when I have mindless things that have to be accomplished (which would make you think I like dusting, and you would be wrong), so my brain can keep on cooking. When I had day-jobs, I used to love those big stupid collating jobs where you had to use a conference table to lay out all the pages and then just around and around and around, picking up a page at each stack until you got the end and put the collated pages down, and started back around the table. Ghod, I got a lot of writing done that way.

I currently have three coon cats in my office, and Trooper’s absence is palpable, even though, were he here, he’d be asleep in his box.

The windows are open now, the sun having come out and warmed things up nicely.

After lunch — more writing. Whee!

The evening report: Trooper “came home” a few minutes ago. His box is back with the others. I hope I don’t have to add to that collection for a long, long time. In fact, I’d rather not add to it all.

Today’s work produced about 800 new words. I had to straighten out a couple of kinks in already-written scenes, in particular writing someone out of a scene that takes place before they actually arrive. For the next scene, I need to do some prep, such as researching the particulars of Scout Commander yos’Phelium’s Field Judgment on the matter of independent logics, which will take me to Coon Cat Happy Hour, so we’ll just call the WIP’s wordage as of today at +/-71,390.

Tomorrow is my birthday, as has been the case for the 72 years previous to this one. Since it is a day of mourning and reliving horrific events for a vast number of people, I will, as has become my habit, be limiting my presence online. For those who are curious about what I’ll be doing to celebrate my 73rd birthday; I will be writing. Maybe I’ll get wild and crazy and order in Chinese.

Everybody stay safe.

Friday morning, with rain

Friday. Rainy and sticky.

Did not sleep well. What a surprise. The kids have twigged to the change of order, or at least the absence of the rock that was Grandpa. I’ve been Queried several times, starting with Tali pointing out to me that the prime spot tucked up against my right side in the bed that Trooper reserved for himself and no other was . . . empty. She was nervous, and licked her nose several times, but she did make the report.

I’m informed by Second in Command Firefly that the next step is a call to the Northeast Committee Cat, which will of course come to naught. I filled out The Form at the vet’s yesterday, and they do an upload to NEFU Headquarters every night. I understand that Firefly needs to make sure The Protocols are followed exactly, and I’m impressed that she’s taking resolute action.

To those who are concerned — Yes, Trooper is being cremated as himself and will some time next week come home in a cedar box that will seem much too small, to take his place on the shelf next to Scrabble, and Belle, and Sprite, and Steve.

In other news, breakfast was PB&J onna whole wheat English muffin. Lunch will probably be something I pick up at the store.

Sarah is due in to clean in a couple minutes, and I? Need to straighten up my desk and find my WIP notes from the other day. I may have a title. May. I’m not crazy about it, but it does fit. I’ve made a note and will check back in a week or two to see if it’s grown on me.

How’s everybody doing today?

Picture of Trooper from October 18, 2016. I wasn’t feeling well and had retired to the couch, to color. This is Trooper telling me that I’ve colored enough and needed to take a nap.

’tis a like task we are at

Today’s blog post title from “The Scholar and His Cat”

Thursday. Sunny and breezy.

The house is very quiet, and I’ve caught myself a dozen times looking up with a start, and wondering where Trooper was. This house is arranged so when I’m in the kitchen and turn my head, I can see the copilot’s chair and the section of my desk where the cat napping box is located.

For eight years (in this house), those two properties were occupied in a rotation worked out between themselves. by Sprite, Belle, or Trooper — sometimes two together in a single location. When Belle died, Sprite claimed the copilot’s chair most often, except when she was on duty for Steve. Lately, Trooper has more or less had his choice. The kids sometimes use the box, but the copilot’s chair was Trooper’s.

Seeing both spots empty is . . . yeah.

The house suffered this same feeling of yawning emptiness when Belle left us, and when Spite did. Big cats, with big, big personalities, who had their schedules and took their responsibilities seriously.

Today, following a brief huddle upon discovering that the box had come home, but Grandpa wasn’t in it, the kids have taken to nap spots that are not in my office. Each one has checked in with me at least once, So, that’s good; they know the gig; it’ll just take them a little while to ease into it. Firefly had the benefit of learning from Belle, Sprite, and Trooper — she’s as ready to be Top Cat as it’s possible to be. The other two — they’re good kittens, and I saw Trooper working with them. They’ll be fine.

Kelimcoons Sooper Trooper, December 15, 2009-September 4, 2025. He came on-board at the Lee-Miller Cat Farm and Confusion Factory on June 29, 2013. The final crossing was a sweet easing into sleep. By now, he’s been in Steve’s office at the new place for a good few hours, and is probably starting to ask when’s Happy Hour around here, anyway?

Picture below from October 27, 2013

Video from May 19, 2021

The evening report

Well.

I’ve finished putting together Civilized Behavior, including the front matter and the blurb. I haven’t compiled it yet. Weighing whether to make a call for tyop hunters before compiling. Probably the sensible way to go about it. So! Watch the Skies. In, yanno, an easygoing and relaxed sort of way.

A reprint opportunity came in this afternoon, so I did get that story out.

Checked my story cards, the previous Constellations, and pertinent contracts, then wrote to Madame the Agent, asking her to find if Baen might be interested in a sixth Constellation. There is one story still under Exclusivity, but that ends in November, and even if Baen wants another collection, there’s no way it will be out before November.

Trooper did not eat at Happy Hour.

Our appointment with the vet is at 8:15 tomorrow morning. They wanted us early, so it would be as quiet and peaceful as possible.

Referencing the above, I may or may not be around the internets much tomorrow. Thank you for your understanding.

Everybody stay safe.

Cat census from earlier in the day:

Quiet normal day

What went before ONE: Waiting for the vet to call back.

Yanno what? I think I won’t be going to needlework tonight. I think I’ll just sit here and work on entering corrections into my chapbook, which is both comforting and cerebral.

Trooper is in the box on the corner of my desk, where he can get the sun and the breeze from the open window. Tali is on the cedar chest, where ditto. Firefly is on her towel on top of the dresser in the bedroom, where she can look out the front window, and also take the breeze, and Rookie is napping in the box on the corner of Steve’s desk.

What went before TWO: Only need to amend the back matter in the chapbook, then I can do a test layout, scream in horror, fall on my sword, and go back to the drawing board.

Trooper will be going to the vet on Thursday morning. He did yell for Happy Hour this evening, but gooshy food is too tough to chew, and the gravy is boring.

It’s time.

I think I ate … something for lunch, though I can’t tell you what. Oh, wait. Rice. I’d made a fresh pot of rice. I’ll have to do better about the evening meal, but I think I’ll get the About the Authors fixed up, first, so I can move right on with being horrified by the compilation, tomorrow morning.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Was foggy when I got up. Now cloudy and sullen. Windows are open, though it’s still a bit chilly. Lawn guys are next door, doing their thing.

Didn’t sleep well last night, but that wasn’t exactly unexpected.

Trooper had breakfast in three parts and did manage to work his way through almost an entire 3-ounce can of Fancy Feast pate, with a little end-of-plate help from Firefly.

My breakfast was cottage cheese mixed in with the tiny bit of leftover macaroni salad, which was surprisingly tasty, and black grapes. Second cup of tea brewing. I’ll probably succumb to the siren call of the last cookie pretty soon.

On today’s to-do: one’s daily duty to the cats, and smol walk. Call the hospital, which sent me an “electronic bill” on 8/27, which I forthwith paid electronically. Yesterday in the mail, comes a paper bill for the same amount, and the same services. Ahem. O! MaineGeneral, I, too, would like to be paid twice, thrice, yea! four times, for the same work, but that so rarely happens*. I feel your ambition, MaineGeneral, and I understand it. But try it on somebody else, hey?

Otherwise, I intend to work on the chapbook — front matter! almost forgot! Blurb! eek! — and Trooper is signalling his readiness to get down to cases, by climbing into his box and going to sleep. So, business as usual. That’s good.

I bought a tween-weather coat, courtesy of Land’s End’s sale. It arrived yesterday, and it’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. I mean — it fits. It has outside pockets of sufficient depth for such things as car keys, and cold hands, but it also has . . . what seem to be meant to be inside pockets — quite large pockets; my tablet would fit comfortably — but. While there’s stitching along the bottom of the panel, it’s not attached to the coat — by which I mean, if you put something into these pockets, it will fall out the bottom. So, yeah, I’m thinking I’ll be getting out some thread, and maybe some fabric tape, for belt-and-suspenders, and just make those things usable. Probably not today, but who doesn’t need projects for the future?

Ah. You can see the inside pockets, here

I think that’s all I’ve got this morning.

How’s your day shaping up?

_______
*Actually, that’s a bit of a cheat. As a writer, I do occasionally get paid for the same work multiple times. I can’t, however, think of one occasion when that happened at a day-job.

And suddenly! It’s Tuesday

What went before: Finished correcting the first 40 pages of Civilized Behavior; only 100 more pages left to go.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Sporadically sunny. Warm. Said to be heading for warmer, still, though not hot. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Trooper has had two — three! — tries at breakfast. The third try — after he had rejected the contents of the bowl I was carrying back to the kitchen and he stopped in front of me, made eye contact, and screamed — I put the bowl down in front of him. He stared at it. Rook and Tali came to see what Grandpa was getting that was Special, and he had a couple…eight? licks to kinda spite them, then turned away. Also, that pound I was so pleased he’d gained, all the way back on August 27? He’s lost it with interest, according to today’s weigh-in.

Yeah, contacting the vet is on my list, right after I have a cup of tea on the deck and sort out my thoughts and feelings. I’m remembering talking with Steve, after we let Belle go, and he said, “Y’know? I think Belle was sicker than we knew.”

My breakfast consisted of an oatmeal-raisin-walnut cookie. Probably I should do something a bit more, in a while.

I intend to work on the chapbook today. Needlework group is this evening. And I think that’s all I’ve got.

How’s everybody doing today?

Later that same morning: Sigh. The New England Donor Services, with which organization I have not found myself in charity with since it first brought itself to my attention by calling me at midnight of the day Steve died, to ask me a bunch of intrusive questions and persuade me to donate usable parts to the Greater Good. . .

The New England Donor Services, I say, not only saw fit to send me a medal in Steve’s name (for, yes, after getting up, very calmly in what I now know to have been an Altered State, I looked them up, saw they were legit, thought of what Steve, the author of “Charioteer,” might actually want, and called them back to give permission), for being a “hero” for giving the Gift of Life — and also saw fit to send me a thin volume of tips for survivors, in which such burning questions as “Am I still allowed to wear my wedding ring?” were addressed, and which still from time to time, despite my stated preferences, takes it upon itself to contact me —

Has contacted me again.

They’re having a walk — to repeal death, I guess? No, wait. They need death. Well. — and they’re making a Day of the Dead quilt, and I’m offered the opportunity to “share my loved one’s ‘donation story'”.

I’m pretty sure I’ve previously asked New England Donor Services to never speak to me again, and, yes, I’ve asked them again, just now.

But I really did not need them in my mailbox today.

Here, have a picture of Tali inna bookcase. That’ll make us all feel better:

I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing

What went before ONE: So, fixed what I wrote yesterday, placed it in the WIP, fixed the chapter-by-chapter, and? That’s probably all the writing-related tasks I’m doing today.

The WIP, still titleless, clocks in at +/-64,160 total words.

What went before TWO: Had a good time at needlework; actually remembered to stop at the grocery before I got home, have served up coon cat happy hour. Need to put away the rest of the groceries, then find something to eat.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Sunny and cool. Windows in my office are open.

Google initially told me that it was going to be “rainy” today. Questioned more closely, it admitted that there was a moderate chance of rain between 4pm and 5pm. Which piece of optimism Wunderground does not support, though it’s teasing me with the possibilities of thunderstorms on Friday. I could use me a good thunderstorm.

Trooper has already eaten a can and a half of gooshy food. Which reminds me that I ought to weigh him.

Breakfast was pb&j on a whole wheat English muffin. Tali came by to sit on my lap and purr while I finished my first cup of tea, so that was pleasant. Lunch has not yet suggested itself.

Today’s to-do includes doing one’s duty to the cats, exploring online/possibly subscription exercise programs (I know this about myself: If I haven’t made a commitment of some kind, I will not Just Exercise out of the abundance of my own good sense.), take a walk, and! writing.

My embroidery project at the moment was supposed to be a shirt I want to embroider, but I haven’t gotten my act in gear to decide what I want to do exactly and position the designs. So, I’ve been working on the little piece of handwork I was taking with me when we traveled. It was “supposed” to be an outline — by which I mean, not filled in — but I had started to fill it in as practice for stitching fur, and for twisting two colors of thread together. Last night, I finished the center. Pic below.

What relaxation project are you working on?

Today’s blog post title once more from ee cummings: “you shall above all things be glad and young”

Maintaining Time

What went before ONE: So, that was unexpected. I noticed that the clock in Steve’s office had stopped, which–not unexpected; I probably hung it back there about a year ago, and it was likely time for a new battery, so I brought it with me out to the tech room,flipped it over and–

The battery had exploded inside the clock. Crystalized acid gluing it to the holder. So, now I need a new clock, and also some idea of why the battery exploded. But, definitely a new clock.

Monday, hey?

What went before TWO: Clock update.

So, I decided to try to rehabilitate the clock–for Science! And many thanks to Edward Green and Jeff Needham for the tip about using white vinegar, and Mary Carol for the emery board hack.

For those interested, the clock in question is a LaCrosse Technologies Atomic Time clock.

It turns out that I was at fault. As I was cleaning and refitting, I noticed something printed on the back of the clock in, like 8-pt black-on-black which says “Replace battery every nine months to prevent leakage.”

I don’t remember exactly when I bought that clock — at Reny’s, but I don’t remember which one. Maybe Belfast. Probably Belfast. Anyhoots, it will have been before August, so I missed my nine month change-out. Which this clock obviously takes Very Seriously.

The clock is running at this time. I’ve hung it back in Steve’s office, and made a note to replace the batteries in May.

…and back to work I go.

What went before THREE: Two thousand thirty four-ish new words written.

Time to find something to eat and maybe a glass of wine.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Let’s see…

Tuesday. Sunny and cool. Woke up at 5:30, but instead of getting up, I turned over and went back to sleep until 7. I would’ve slept longer, but the window was open and there were guys outside of it somewhere, having a Discussion over a background of I’m-backing-uuupp truck beeps. They’re gone now, of course; looks like they were just coming together across the street so they could move to the real job site as a unit.

Trash and recycling still need to get out to the curb, but I’ve got time, and in my own defense, I did eat breakfast and start the dishwasher.

Trooper is chowing down his second can of gooshy food. I don’t know what worked, there at the vet’s, but something sure did.

My breakfast was the last of the tuna fish on a toasted bialy, with black grapes. I’ll have my second cup of tea after I get the trash situated. Lunch will be the rest of yesterday’s soup and a side salad.

Today’s to-do includes one’s duty to the cats, taking a smol walk, getting with what I wrote yesterday, and writing some more before I head out for needlework this evening. I’m going to have to stop at the grocery. I’m almost out of gooshy food.

I’m also going to have to figure out how to mix things up around here, so every day isn’t the same as every other day. *That’s* dangerous ground. I was mixing it up by going to gym three days a week, but I’m leery of gym nowadays because my back seems to go into revolt over nothing at all lately.

Well.

It rained overnight, but we could use more. Even lots more.

What’s happening with you this morning?

Addendum:

My watch reports that I had a High Stress Period from 8:34 until, err, now. I’m counseled to rest. How strange.

So! The rescued clock is still keeping the correct time back in Steve’s office. I’m taking that as circumstantial evidence that the new battery hasn’t leaked. Yet, she added darkly.

Also, the new meds upset my stomach slightly, and I couldn’t find candied ginger in the local store, which was a bummer. But, I did find, in Reny’s of course, a jar of Chiver’s Ginger Preserves, which is Sugar, Water, Ginger. I’ve been taking a spoonful of that in the morning, and it seems to be doing the job, and it tastes good, so — win.

Has anyone else local heard that Uncle Dean’s Natural Market is going to be taking over the Save-a-Lot space in the Concourse?

Also! What’s going on with hotels canceling cons six hours after everybody’s set up and running? Have contracts not been written?

For those keeping score: Trash and recycling are at the curb, and I’m drinking my second mug of tea. There may be a third mug of tea, because I’m feeling Just That Crazy.

Now to read what I wrote yesterday…

Rook pics from yesterday, when he was trying to talk me out of my yogurt. He did not succeed.

He either fails or he succeeds

Sunday. Bright and cool. Cats are installed in the open windows. Trooper has had his first half-a-can of cat food. Biscuits are in the toaster oven and in a minute or two I’ll have to interrupt myself to heat the pan for sausage patties. Apparently, it’s Indulgence Weekend. Except for the part after breakfast when I need to change out the cat boxes and vacuum the basement.

It looks like the tree guy has ghosted me. This makes the fourth tree guy to do so. I’m getting tired of the game, but — onward to the next on the list, I guess. Maybe I can go down to the river and enlist some beavers.

So, yesterday during my ride, I thought of — many things, actually. But one thing I recalled was the Editorial Advice, ‘way back in the day, that we Branch Out in our writing, due to the Danger that our names would become inextricably entangled with this light-and-silly space opera universe that had (tanked), to the detriment of our careers.

And, I dunno, maybe she was right. It was a Theme throughout our Early Years — that we wrote a clean enough hand and if we would just Get Serious and lean harder (a lot harder) on the science in Science Fiction, Great Things could be done for us by other people. One guy told Steve to ditch the girl, that she was doing His Career no good. And that was before I got to put my name first on the universe I had created. Several colleagues told us to ditch the romance, because that would “alienate” True Readers of the genre.

We were too stubborn, and too enamored of our own vision to take the advice of Older and More Experienced Heads — and here we are. Our names are inextricably entangled with that space opera universe, which is neither as light nor as silly as some folks persist in believing. It did sorta damage our credibility when we produced other projects — they were inevitably compared to the Liaden books and invariably found wanting. Steve never did finish his own novel, though he did take Jethri under his wing when I was So. Done. With. This! Kid!

On the other hand — I said this just recently in a speech — we had fun. Even? A lot of fun, in our personal life, and in our professional life. Yes, there were problems, and Mistakes Were Made, but, yanno? That is life. Which begins to infringe on those other things I was thinking about yesterday, on my ride.

So! Biscuits with sausage and cheddar cheese for breakfast. It was very good, as Forbidden Treats so often are. Trooper has finished eating his first can of cat food on the day, and I’m drinking my second cup of tea as I address you here.

When my tea’s done, I’ll get with my chores. Salad for lunch, I think — I have lettuce, tomato, tuna, hard boiled eggs. That sounds like a salad. Oh. And olive bread. Mmmmm, olive bread.

How’s your day starting out?

Today’s blog post title is, of course, from Mr. Paul Simon, “One Trick Pony,” — a live version at the link, because art is hard work. Even when you’re having fun.

There was a call for a picture of the earrings I bought yesterday. I live to serve: rutilated quartz, silver, gold. With obligatory black felt woven with cat fur. Artist Trish Conant. (There was a comment Elsewhere that they looked heavy. In fact, they’re very light. The stones are thin, as is the metal. I wore them for a few hours yesterday after I got home, and I forgot I had them in. Very pleased with this purchase.)

Friday in reverse

Facebook free association:

ONE: Oh, look! Somebody who wants me to pay them to write a guest blog on sharonleewriter.com.

Um, no. But thanks for thinking of me, Sandra.

Sheesh.

Trooper has probably eaten more today than he had in the last week. Fingers continued to be crossed, which makes it kind of hard to sort laundry.

Second load of laundry washing, because — why not? First load drying. Vacuuming ongoing. Hard boiled eggs on the make. Time to unload the dishwasher.

TWO: Well. Pork chops. Tuna fish. Hardboiled eggs. Rice.

I’ve got enough food for days…

THREE: Oh. I’ve had one kind and two kinda miffed queries on this, so!

The reason the book-in-progress isn’t due until next April is because the rush to get Diviner’s Bow out “on time,” kinda fried me. I don’t write well with a fried brain, and since I’m the only writing brain presently on the premises, we must be protective of my health.

That’s why the turn-in date for the next book is April 2026.

Yes, that does mean it will be a subjectively “long time” between books, for some folks. One upon a time, there was ten years between books; so a couple months is nothing. No, really; it’s nothing.

Also, yanno, other people are writing books that are entirely readable, or! if you’re in the mood for Korval Shenanigans, particularly, you can re-read the 27 books that have already been published.

It’s not that I’m unsympathetic, but killing writers is not the way to get new books.