writing – Page 13 – Sharon Lee, Writer

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.

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:

Second Sunday; First of September

Second Sunday. Sunny and warm.

Trooper making the day more difficult than it strictly needs to be by screaming for food and then not eating. I suspect his tooth is hurting him again, but there’s nothing I can do about that today, and I’m not sure how many shots of antibiotic he’s good for.

Last night, I was restless, so I sorted through some of the sdcards from Steve’s stash, and found an entire card that’s the car camera videos of us taking a drive on April 22 2023. The camera is set up to look out the back window and into the cockpit, so I have about 30 minutes of little 2 minute clips of Steve and me talking to each other as he drives us through Winslow and out to Fairfield. Talk about your mixed blessings…

Today, I got to working on the 2025 chapbook, because I actually came up with a title, that being CIVILIZED BEHAVIOR: Adventures in the Liaden Universe(R) No. 36. I may have found a cover — I have two mocked up and trying to decide if I like the blue-on-blue abstract, or the two little kids sitting together on a swing, staring at the moon in the clouds while birds fly all around.

For those who may be curious, this chapbook largely deals with the Matter of Colemeno, two stories and an outtake from Ribbon Dance. Also, the text of my speech at Balticon, accepting the Heinlein Award. I’ll have to check, but I may now have enough stories to make a sixth Constellation.

I have a bunch of corrections to make in the chapbook manuscript, but first! Second Sunday dinner, which will be a chicken burger onna roll with cheese, some baked beans and macaroni salad. A picnic, hey?

How’s everybody doing today?

Well. In regard to Constellation Six, it looks like I have 98,617 words of short story. If I throw in the Heinlein speech, I’ve got 99,413.

Guess I’ll talk to Madame the Agent…

Yeah, it’s the kids on the swing.

So I finally just got a pack of chains, because the monofilament wasn’t making me happy, and that was before it degraded in the sun.

Ornament, blown glass, made in the Corning Glass Studio, by Sharon Lee.

First Sunday Report

First Sunday of the weekend. Sunny, going to be warmer than yesterday, but not hot.

Trooper wants me to do something, but I haven’t discovered what it is, yet. In the meantime, he’s had his meds, and two goes at breakfast, but it’s apparently not the right breakfast. If he wants pancakes, he’s outta luck. Steve was the pancake person; I’d eat them to keep him company, but making pancakes for myself just isn’t a thing.

In the meantime, my breakfast this morning was Swiss cheese on an English muffin, because we are a Global Village, black grapes, and a handful of mixed nuts. Lunch? Could be anything. By which I mean a salad, because I’m already feeling too lazy to bother.

Firefly is sleeping off yesterday’s festivities in the box on my desk, which happens at the moment to be sun-soaked. Tali is on top of the dresser. Trooper has found a sunspot on the rug and is drowsing, rather than yelling at me, which is a relief, actually, and Rookie is on the rug in the foyer, underneath the open window.

Aside cat box duty and a smol walk, today will be about the WIP, and looking ahead at what needs to get done IRL next week.

What’s your First Sunday of the Weekend look like?

Two tries at taking a good picture of the earrings and moon (the little necklace is a tree-and-dragon)

You really know how to dance

What went before ONE: All righty, then.

Agway run completed. I did not buy plants. Yay, me. I did buy monofilament string — aka fishing line — so I can hang the ball I made at Corning in a sunny window where it belongs, instead of skulking on my bookshelf.

Hit the Hannaford, picked up my prescriptions, bought Fancy Feast Gravy Lover’s Pate, which is the preferred of the moment. Took the returnables to the redemption center. Caused consternation. Gassed up the car, so I don’t have to do it on Saturday. Apparently the Rusty Lantern/Irving at Webb Road isn’t supplying a means for its customers to clean off their windshields anymore, so I’ll be looking for a new gas station. Shame; that one’s really convenient.

What else? Oh, performed one’s duty to the cats, and took a walk.

It is now what time? Yes? Yes, you, right there in front. Ex — yes, say again, please for the guy in the back row who’s asleep?

It’s lunch time!

And then? It’s time to go to work.

poof

What went before TWO: I remember coming in to Albany more than a decade ago from an exceptionally long and fraught train trip which involved the train actually running out of food (long story; bad trip; it was years ago, and man did I learn to hate CSX), and Steve pulled us into the Cracker Barrel because we needed something to eat. I remember looking at the menu, then looking at Steve and saying, “There’s no food here.” “There’s chicken soup,” he said. “We’ll both have chicken soup, then we can go get some real food.” This was the first and only time I was in a Cracker Barrel.

Ah, memories…

Patched up what I wrote yesterday and put it in its rightful place within the WIP, which now weighs just about 65,420 words. Tomorrow, I need to sit down and plot out the next section, even though my brain wants to write the cool! action! scene! over there. I’ve gotta figure out how they got there, first, Brain. Gimme a break, hey?

Anyhow, knocking off early tonight to, yanno, hang away my clothes, write a couple of checks, and see if I can brainstorm not one, but two! titles. Brainstorms are considerably less fun with only one brain, in case that was a question anybody had.

So! Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Cloudy and cool. Thunderstorms are on the menu.

Last night at bedtime, I made it a point to find Rookie, who often spends the night on the box on Steve’s desk, and carry him with me to the bed, thinking that I would once again introduce this as an option. I put him down, and he lay exactly where and how I’d put him until I’d gotten under the covers, turned out the light, settled on my pillow and drifted off. When I drifted out, about two hours later, he had relocated to my other side, tunneled between my arm and my side, and was snoring. Also, Tali had taken over the prized spot on my ankle. I went back to sleep and woke up at 7, much refreshed.

Today cutting off cat toes is on my menu, and I managed to grab Rook as he was terrorizing his sister. I put him on my lap and began to clip his claws and he was So Good. He made no complaint, or any attempt to play Disappearing Leg, and started to purr when I flipped him over on is back to amputate his back toes. When we were finished, he just — stayed, purring his silly, puffy purr, until Tali walked by and then of course he had to jump down to see what she was doing.

I have finished my first cup of tea. Trooper has had a can of Fancy Feast. Breakfast will be something to do with the peach I bought yesterday, and when I took the stoopid sticky tag off, the skin tore. Lunch will be … something.

Towels are in the washer. In addition to the cutting of cat toes, the to-do list includes one’s duty to the cats, a walk, and plotting.

What’s on your to-do list for Friday?

Today’s blog post brought to you by The Romantics, “What I like about you”

Below, a picture of one of the Agway store cats, and a picture of Tali, who is apparently taking a covert ops course from the Rivers of London foxes.

Sinking in

What went before: Slow getting started, but once I got going, I managed to pull a couple words out of the keyboard.

+/-1050 new words, bringing the WIP to +/-65,200.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Thursday. Sunny and cool. Weatherbeans calling for the higher 70s-in-F this afternoon. At the moment, it’s too cool to open the windows.

This morning, I need to go out to collect an extension of the new prescription, which needs to be Tapered Off, who knew? And also to Agway for a couple of things, including fishing line.

I see, otherwheres, that KJ Charles is being victimized by someone who can’t read reporting to Amazon numerous “errors” in Copper Script (which is good — read it). These are, as it turns out British spelling, British sentence structure, British slang, and in a couple of cases Actual Words that said Arbiter of Error didn’t recognized and couldn’t be arsed to look up.

I grew up reading British novels in their native Britishness, back before US Publishing decreed that Americans were too stupid to accommodate a few extra “u”s and whatnot. Welp, US Publishing has got what it wanted, with a helping of “If I don’t recognize a word, it must be a typo, because I know All The Words.”

My reading of British literature reflects in my own writing, and I have once or twice had to gently inform people that, no, that is an ACTUAL WORD, GET A DAMNED DICTIONARY, WHY NOT? Ahem. And I really despair of us as a people. OTOH, ignorant people are easier to control, and we’re into control, this episode, so there’s a win for the bullies and the cheats.

deep breath

I said upstream that you ought to read Copper Script — that is, of course, if Amazon hasn’t pulled it for having too many errors, because Amazon has been known to do this. And, yanno, Ms Charles doesn’t have anything better to do except go through an already-published book, fixing errors that aren’t wrong, so it can go back into the catalog and start earning again.

I know some folks think they’re dong Good Things by “reporting” errors and typos to Amazon. Trust me — they’re not. As I mentioned, oh, maybe this time last week? There are no perfect books. There are errors and typos in all books. Mostly, they don’t hurt anybody (I’m not talking errors like “half my book is a scifi adventure and the other half is a cookbook” or “my book is 400 blank pages” or things of that nature). Certainly, they’re not worth pulling the creator away from her new project, and pissing her off, too.

I want more books from KJ Charles, and? Abusing authors isn’t the way to get more books.

Really, I ought to start a list.

Anyhow! Having ranted and perhaps educated — Good morning! How’s your day shaping up?

Here, have a picture of Rook inna sink:

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.

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.

Down in your sea of pens and feathers

What went before ONE: Back from the vet. Trooper was a Very Good cat, and spoke not one angry word to me on either side of the trip, and purred the whole time the doctor was examining him. He has lost more than the home scale had indicated, and right now the only thing we can do is … guess.

So! We’re guessing that he’s not in pain. We’re guessing that maybe? the steroids helped last time. And we’re guessing that maybe? there’s a low-lying infection that the antibiotic will root out.

Otherwise, he has Fading Old Cat Syndrome.

Thanks to everyone who has made suggestions for food. It’s not that he’s not hungry; it’s that he forgets what food is halfway through eating it. And he absolutely refuses dry food (aka crunchies) which, if he has a tooth infection (and no, neither the vet nor I want to sedate him at this point), the antibiotic will nail it.

In short. We’re doing what we can. And may I say that the medical literature for cats is really … sparse.

Cat census below. Tali’s fan club, and Rook’s, will be interested to see that she takes up considerably less room on top of the supply dresser than he does.

What went before TWO: The chapter-by-chapter is complete. Tomorrow, I map holes and make notes. The WIP is, roughly, half-written. Deadline is April 2026.

Onward.

Trooper ate a whole! can! of Fancy Feast! Which is something like 3.2 ounces, but hey.

Sarah arrives early tomorrow, so I’ll do a little bit of picking up before Happy Hour and my dinner.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Sunny and cool-so-far. Windows are open.

Sarah messages that a family emergency keeps her from making our date to have her clean this morning. Sigh.

Trooper has had about a can and a half of Fancy Feast; he has not thrown up, and is now sleeping/snoring in the copilot’s chair, so something’s working. Fingers crossed.

Since Sarah will not be coming by, I’ll deploy some vacuum cleaners and throw in a load of laundry (which I was going to do anyway), empty the dishwasher (ditto), and get to work. I need to bake some pork chops, so I’ll be heating up the oven.

Onward.

Trooper as reported is in the copilot’s chair; Tali is on the supply dresser, nose to the open window; Firefly’s gone downstairs, I believe, and Rook is taking advantage of Conditions.

How’s everybody doing this morning?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Counting Crows, “Rain King.”