Tag: writing

Lukey’s boat’s got a fine fore cuddy

Shoulder dragon:

What went before: All righty, then! I have finished reading the page proofs for the Diviner’s Bow mass market. I’ll work a little later tonight to gather up the (very few) typos and send them along to Baen, so that‘s outta my hair.

This leaves me with the Top Sekrit Project, and completing the set-up and listings for Civilized Behavior, the November chapbook.

Today, the WIP broke 90,000 words, so that’s a thing.

Tomorrow is supposed to see a return to the 80sF, weatherwise. Someone had asked…somewhere, if it had been cool enough today to warrant wearing a hoodie. The answer being that today’s “hoodie” is a long-sleeved t-shirt that happens to have a hood. I don’t know why these design decisions are taken. I wanted a purple-striped t-shirt, and this one was on sale.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.
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So! Monday. Sunny and going to be Actually Warm. It is in fact 80F/27C in my office as of right now.

Got up early and hit the keyboard, wrote +/-1,425 new words. I want to get back to it. Maybe after I finish up the business portion of the day.

The really good news so far on the day (until the mail arrives and I see if my oval hoop was actually delivered, whereupon — new embroidery hoop!) is that the next door neighbor’s tree guy is willing to take my problem trees down while he’s doing the work next door. He’ll be by tomorrow to take a look IRL, give me quote, and — fingers crossed! — the trees will be taken care of in December.

The annoying news on the day is that the company through which I am financing the replacement doors in Steve’s office keeps texting me…things. I don’t want them texting me. Email. Email is the height of human communication, IMNSHO. Texting is an abomination, though I grant it’s useful in an emergency. I also don’t want medical entities texting me, but so far I haven’t made an impression there, either.

So! Trash and recycling are in the garage ready to be taken up to the curb tomorrow morning. And I have some email to answer, and at least one phone call to make.

Whhoooosssssshhhhh!

What’re you doing today?

Today’s blog post title from Great Big Sea, “Lukey’s Boat.”

Magic Glass Writing

What went before:

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What went before: Senior supervisor checking placement of juniors

 

 

 

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Wrote +/-900 words and needed a break to let the guys in the basement get in their beer order.

So, here’s my stained glass pattern, all color-coded and waiting for me to go to the glass store (on Thursday with the rest of my class) and buy some damn’ glass, Woman! I probably have too many colors, and it seems clear that the pattern, at least, wants Serious Art Glass for the sea and the starfish. I’ll see what’s on sale at the glass shop, pattern. No promises.

Who’s doin’ what today?

While I’m up and around…

Last night I went to the much-anticipated magic show — Magic Rocks, which is pronounced “Magic! Rocks!” and NOT “Magic rocks.” The reason for the sign prohibiting rabbits that I posted from the pre-show last night is because the illusionist, Leon Etienne, is IRL allergic to rabbits. So — no rabbits on stage or in the audience.

It was, yes, loud, because said illusionist is a rock ‘n roll enthusiast (thus “Magic! Rocks!), and there were bright lights and no lights at all at strategic moments.

The Lovely Assistants were, lovely, skilled pantomimists, and honestly, all-around good sports. The illusionist himself was personable, funny, and skilled.

There was a kind of camp feel to the show, aided and abetted by the Lovely Assistants, who seemed at times to be saying, “Yes, we all know this trick, right?” And yes, we all did know the trick, but seeing a woman cut in half live! on stage! is its own kind of magic.

I had, as I believe I said last evening, a really good time.

The tricks started big and showy, got small and intimate, then finished up big and showy.

The volunteers from the audience were uniformly good sports, and the expression on their faces when the magic happened multiplied the wonder in the room.

When the illusionists came down into the audience, I was close enough to hear him say to his first volunteer, “Ma’am, I’ve been looking at you all evening from up on stage, and it’s really been bothering me so I hope you won’t mind, but you’ve got a hair right here –” And I also heard her gasp “OH!” when he pulled the toy rabbit out of her ear.

I also want to call out the woman who went up on stage and surrendered her ring to the illusionist, who subsequently made it disappear — and then revealed that it had not transferred to the jewelry bag that had been set up to receive it. She was visibly tense, and got tenser, and tenser, as box after box after box was unlocked and opened, and her ring was still missing.

When it was finally found, her whole body shouted relief, her smile was to die for, and that one trick was a master class for any storyteller in the art of raising the stakes.

The kid volunteers were also terrific; I’m pretty sure I didn’t have that much sangfroid when I was seven.

Anyhow! If you have a chance to see Magic Rocks — do that.

Friday night roundup

What went before: Errands always take longer than you think they will. However! I have accomplished all my errands.

err. except going to the grocery store.

Which I will be doing! Just as soon as I finish eating the cottage cheese and pretzel that I’m calling by the pet name of “lunch” today.

The guy at SBS said that I was the third stained glass person in on the day, so — good to see we’re all on the case.

The creperie is … difficult for me to understand, and expensive. So I’ll try again some other time.

And that’s all the news that’s fit to print at the mom– Oh. I have an Informed Delivery note from the USPS — news of a package due four days out.

Rookie, by the way, doesn’t think that I need to go away for hours just to come home stinking of D.O.G. eeewwww! (SBS has two resident Big, Friendly Dogs, who were Very Interested in me and happy to provide Vitamin Dog, and we all know that it’s rude to turn down freely-offered Vitamin Dog.)

And that really is it.

Off to the grocery store I go!
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Helping me read:
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The day didn’t go exactly as planned, but! I wrote 545 new words, bringing the WIP entire to +/-89,500 words. And I did eventually do all my errands. And Sarah left the house nice and clean.

I was addressed as “sir” in Reny’s by a woman who was horrified and more apologetic than strictly necessary. She had just seen my hair, she said, and, and my shirt, and she had just made an assumption and ohmighod so very, very sorry MA’AM.

And one more argument against the proposition that you can just tell what people “are” by looking at them.

My “business desk” looks like a bomb hit it, but that’s at least partly the printout of the material that didn’t go through yesterday. I can apparently submit via paper, and I’m trying to decide if that will introduce more Room For Error. No HUGE rush, I guess, but I’d like to get it outta here.

I should probably come back after Happy Hour to put the desk into some kind of order. Or, yanno, not. I hate the feeling that I’m falling behind, and behinder. I’m pretty sure I’m not, but I depended on Steve to make those calibrations for me — really depended; I never learned how to do it for myself. I mean, I can — and do — write down the tasks in hand and their deadlines, look at them, and the calendar, and intellectually understand that I’ve got plenty of time, but the panic-maker never stops running around inside my head, yelling, “Holy freaking ghod, you’ve got So. Much. To. Do. You’re never going to get all this done, and then everything will fall apart, and what will happen to the cats, and, and, and. . . ”

Stoopid brain.

It just about is Happy Hour and I’ll at least be pouring myself a glass of wine in celebration of having gotten through today.

Tomorrow evening, I’m going to a magic show (Yes, I am. Stop it, Brain.), which I hope will be fun. I haven’t been to a magic show in ages. In fact, I think the last time was at Messalonskee High, approximately a hundred million years ago.

Before I go serve out Happy Hour, I want to share a photo. When Belle died Sara Oseasohn did a pastel portrait of her. Steve hung it on the wall in the living room, near the cat tree. Sara very kindly sent me a portrait of Trooper, which arrived today. I just hung it up. Pic below — not a good one, but the glass and the lighting kinda stretched my photography skills to the max.

And on that note! Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Selling the chiefhold

What went before: So, proofed about 100 pages today, since I finished writing early, and the WIP had nothing more to say to me. That puts me well ahead of schedule, but honestly, I would be happy to get it done early so I can pick up another one of the writing-adjacent projects waiting in the wings.

I’ve been having a little problem with the shirt I’m embroidering. There’s the unexpected resistance offered by having to stitch through the paper grid and the shirt, even though I deliberately chose a light shirt. Also, the instructions are adamant, that I use a small hoop, and that . . . just isn’t working for me. The pattern is peeling up from the fabric and — just not working. One of my friends at needlework last night asked if I didn’t need a bigger hoop and I explained that a small hoop was called for, but the more I thought about it today, the more I really wanted a bigger hoop. So, I’ve made that adjustment. What I really want is an oval hoop, but I don’t have one in-hand, though I do have one on order, now.

Tomorrow evening is my first stained glass class, so that will be exciting. The plan is to write! first!, then see what I can do in the time left before class.

The cats have had Happy Hour, and it’s time for me to read the October 1 chapter of A Night in the Lonesome October, and then find a glass of wine and something to eat.

Everybody stay safe. Have a good evening.

I’ll check in tomorrow.
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Good morning:

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Writing session:  supervisors on the job:

 

 

 

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Well, let’s see.

Thursday. Sunny and seasonally warm.

The blanket I used to cover the rosebush last night was a little icy when I took it off at 8 o’clock. I’m not seeing a call for frost tonight, so that’s good. I have to look up this sort of rose and find what they want for winter.

In the meantime, this morning’s go at the keyboard netted+/-1,340 new words, bringing the WIP to +/- 88,800, which is kind of a pretty number, actually.

I have done my duty to the cats, and taken a walk. I’m planning on a late lunch because my evening class goes late. Ish.

Sarah confirms that she will be here bright and early tomorrow to clean — it’s been a while, what with having to cancel last time so I could see my doctor in Bath. The house is looking a little wild because my first priority has been to keep up with the writing and writing-adjacent stuff. Housekeeping is ‘way down on the list of Other Stuff I feel compelled to accomplish.

I read the October 1 chapter of A Night in the Lonesome October last night, in which we get Insight into Snuff’s duties. I’m reading aloud, because it feels Wrong not to, though that will perhaps change. The cats are … not unamused. Firefly at least remembers this thing.

And I think that’s it, aside a snippet. We haven’t had a snippet in a while.

How’s everybody doing?
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SNIPPET:
Val Con looked to Shan. “I haven’t seen this room open since Uncle Er Thom brought that person from the Aeschalees on-board.”

“Good gods.” Shan stared at him. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

“You’d been sent down to secure the trade,” Val Con said. “But I was cabin boy and called upon to serve.”

“Thus all I have is hearsay. And the rug, of course. Though it did clean up nicely.”

“And the trade was preserved,” Val Con continued, “and Uncle Er Thom was pronounced a chief of the Aeschaleen.”

“That I do remember,” Shan said. “Mother would occasionally ask how his second and third wives went on. Which was really too bad of her.”

“More cousins?” Miri asked.

“Sadly not,” Val Con answered. “He saw the wives each well-set-up in their own establishments with the proceeds from the sale of his chiefhold.”

Shan laughed. “Father had his moments, admit it.”

Forward to the fall

What went before: Back from needlework. Cats have had Happy Hour. I have two more business-like things to do before I can call it a day. Aside those two things, I think I did everything that needed doing (except writing) today, including reading 50 pages of proofs.

Tomorrow sees a return to the Write First Schedule.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

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I rate two supervisors this morning. Tali is taking her off-shift in the living room.

 

 

 

 

Wednesday. Chilly. Still working with the heat pumps, but if this keeps up, I might have to turn on the actual oil heat.

The morning writing session produced +/-1,755 new words, for a grand total-ish of 87,400.

Breaking early because End of Scene, and also? I’m starving. And given that I’m losing weight, but I’m not trying to lose weight, I figured I ought to Listen To My Body.

After lunch: one’s duty to the cats; walk; read page proofs; answer email — not necessarily in that order.

What’s everybody think of Snuff?

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Frost advisory this evening!  And my rose bush has a dozen (I counted) buds on it.

Soldier on, only you can do what must be done

Up betimes because there were pony races in the hall, followed by a sound that my sleeping mind identified as “That’s not right.”

And, indeed, it wasn’t right. Steve has a piece of burlap hanging in his office with various convention badges and buttons appended thereto. And Rookie Too-Smart had gotten one of the badges down with its lanyard and had run it down the hall to put by the bed, so I’d be sure to see it, first thing.

Sigh.

What a good boy.

Tea brewing. And look! I have an extra couple hours to write!

And how’s Monday starting out for you?
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Supervisors on duty:

 

 

 

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Small break to refill the Yeti with water and confuse the cats.

Not quite as focused on the writing this morning as I have been. I did write +/-865 words, and I intend to go back and at least plot out — I use this term both loosely and idiosyncratically — the scenes that are missing. Very few of those, now, which is — I have no idea how this book is happening, but it’s managing to come together, and, yanno — I’m only the writer. Nobody tells me anything.

I really want to just continue writing today, absent breaks for staging the trash, and doing my duty to the cats, and my brain is telling me I could just call in a veggie burger from Five Guys and that would be efficient, which suggestion is entered as evidence for why I don’t trust my brain.

As I said, I wasn’t laser-focused this morning. For instance, I bought a slip-proof mat for my keyboard, since Steve’s desk is VERY slidey. I also signed up for braiding and storytelling at First Friday, reasoning that, if I have something to actually attend on First Friday, the whole affair will make more sense to me.

The addition of the braiding made me realize that I suddenly have lots going on this week, For Values Of. Tomorrow evening, needlework; Thursday evening, my first stained glass class; Friday evening, the braiding thing; Saturday, Magic Rocks. I should also get (another!) blood test and a back xray. I can do the back xray tomorrow, but I’m a little leery about another blood test, even though this one isn’t fasting, and shouldn’t require more than one vial.

The above is also an illustration of why I don’t take every weekend “off” — I tend to decide to do things whenever, since writing is, to a certain point at least, malleable.

So, that. And I guess, while I’m up, I might as well perform my duty to the cats and get the trash and recycling into the garage for tomorrow.

So, I see that the Reimagined United States now has autodocs? And special hospitals that are only filled with autodocs — excuse me — “Med Beds” (gags), and there’s one with my name on it, probably in Solcintra, but, hey, it’s the thought…

How’s everybody at more or less midday (Eastern US) Monday?

Today’s blog post brought to you by John Parr, “St. Elmo’s Fire“

Writin’ Sunday

Sunday. Sat with the manuscript for a couple hours, bringing some things up, adding to scenes, Tinkering with wording. Now taking a break to perform my duty to the cats (done) and rustle lunch (in process — yam stirfry with onion and garlic and spinach) before I got back and write some more. It’s a good day for writing.

I do have to read at least 35 pages a day to hit my return deadline for page proofs, so can’t forget that.

Last night, I was so exhausted by the time I finished up that I couldn’t eat. I just fell into bed and got unconscious. The coon cats all piled on and 9 hours later my watch is saying that my sleep was long but poor, but what does it know? Lots of dreams, many with the “feel” of Steve, no nightmares, so I’m calling a win.

The coon cats have been lounging in my office, which is nice and sunny and warm and has all the windows open for passive collection of Interesting Scents.

Aaand the spinach has just gone into the stirfry, so lunch is coming right up!

How’s everybody doing today?
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Well, that was a good writing day. I wrote a couple of bridges, hooked all but one of the scenes that have been floating in orbit around the master file into the master file, and updated the chapter-by-chapter. Still got some holes, but forward progress has gone forwarder.

At the moment, and calling into mind the wibbly-wobbly nature of the art, the Manuscript Entire weighs in at just around 83,830 words. It’s looking like we’re going to hit 150,000 before we get out of this, which is longish for a Liaden book, but not Stoopid Long.

It is now time to get a cookie and read 40ish pages of page proofs.

No, the thrills never do stop.
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And that’s It! All Done for the day, and I’m still standing. Almost time for Happy Hour, then a little bit of sorting for the week ahead, and actual food this evening, instead of just falling face-first into bed.

Progress.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Crafty Saturday

Going to the craft fair.

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Swag has been taken on.

Also, I may have a source for Tree-and-Dragon cameos. Which might be of interest.

A word about the swag.  The cobwebby thing is a shapechanger.  I don’t know its actual name.  If you manipulate the wand, you can change the relation of the webs to each other, and if you pick it up and hold it in various positions, you have either a flower or an umbrella, or, if you spin it, you can acquire webs again.  It’s amusing, for some reason.  Also, the pine cone leaning against the mug is made entirely of brown sea glass found on Maine islands, and gathered by the artist.

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So the craft fair. It was fun. I want credit for not coming home with the four foot knitted dragon, or any of the many hand-pets present.

Only a couple people shied away from my mixed media outfit — Steve’s leather vest over a purple mock-neck, utility jeans, and pretty silver jewelry, and one person gets a star because I had gone out to the car to get a bag after my first pass through the fair, and it had gotten warm enough that I didn’t need the vest, so I left it behind, and! when I went past this particular table on the second pass and said, “Hello, again,” she said, “I thought you looked familiar, but you were wearing a leather coat before.”

I am presently making cornbread, because I’ve been wanting cornbread for months and I know better than store-bought, and as soon as that’s done, it will become part of my mid-day meal, which I’m suspecting will be leftover chili. The afternoon will be dedicated to writing, as I have, like, three scenes in my head that are clamoring for attention.

Saw my lovely neighbors outside when I came back, and had a chat. They’re having tree work done, and I told them the story of the four ghostly arborists, so they will be calling their arborist, with whom they have a long standing relationship, and adding my trees to the list, and have him come out to take a look. Then, they screwed down a warped board on my front steps and fixed the screen door.

I have The Best Neighbors.

And! The oven just beeped. Best get the cornbread in.

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I should also give an honorable mention to the person who — and her voice was not exactly steady when she said this, “Your jewelry is very pretty.” Also! Bruce? I think it was Bruce. Who delivered Vitamin Dog with Great Gusto.

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One thousand three hundred eleven new words. Give or take. At some point, I need to get with the master file and see where that gets us in a words-to-story kind of way.

Also read +/- 50 pages of page proofs for Diviner’s Bow mmp.

The cats are at Happy Hour and I am a tired woman. Going out, seeing the neighbors, and spending money is fun, but expensive of energy. Not to mention the other stuff.

Tomorrow, I resume the get up and get writin’ schedule.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

And I’ll know my song well before I start singin’

What went before: Coon cat happy hour has been served, and I’ve brought a glass of wine with me back to the desk.

I managed to put out the worst of the business-side fires, but I still have a pretty big stack of stuff on the physical desk, which I should at least sort through so I even know what’s there.

So, I’ll be doing some sorting, then remembering to eat something, and eventually going to bed.

The plan for tomorrow is to get up, write, do my duty to the cats, and go to the grocery store in-between writing and business. We are the Queen of Split Second Timing, We Are.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Thursday Morning Supervisor:

Thursday. Raining and chilly. A trip to the grocery store will not be happening today. Tomorrow, an it snows a blizzard, I will have to do the grocery shopping.

Got up early (breakfast was cream cheese and the last of the grapes), took my cup of tea to the back and booted up the writing machine. This morning, it took me a while to get into the writing groove. I blame last night’s prolonged panic attack in which I was wrestling with the fact pressure of too many things! Too few hands! And Just Get It Done doesn’t work anymore.

OK. Just Get It Done only ever worked because the one of us who was overwhelmed pulled in the other, and we shuffled around needed tasks, and chose which other tasks to ignore until the crisis cleared and then both put our shoulders to the edge of the crisis and pushed.

Which, I guess, would be my point.

I did eventually manage +/- 1,240 new words, and cleaned the cat boxes and took a walk, and now I need to rustle something to eat so I can proceed with the business portion of the program.

I do wonder why I can’t share posts to groups from my phone anymore. I used to be able to do that — as recently as, like, last week. Now, my phone wants me to add things to “my story,” which was ON by default, because of course it was. It’s off now. I think.

Here, have a Snippet:

Val Con finished his tea and waved the pot away when she lifted it.

“Some of this is because it is a very young tree, still, though it was transitioning for centuries. Also, it was born to be a hero, to draw enemy attention away from the Exodus.” He slid from stool to deck and gave her a smile.

“And some portion of the matter is because it is a tree, and it remembers that, once, dragons had served it.”

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Today’s blog post title comes to you from Mr. Robert Zimmerman, writing and singing as Bob Dylan, from back before music went all political. “It’s a hard rain gonna fall.”

Anything Can Happen Day, and it had better NOT

What went before: . . .it is too much; I will sum up. Yesterday, I visited the vampyres, who tithed me two vials, which was enough to make me sick and dizzy for the rest of the day, so nothing of note got done, unless you count new ways to be annoyed with life.

Wednesday. Rainy and chilly.

Especially chilly in Steve’s office with the gaping windows that I wish he would have told me about. But, new windows — actually doors — are coming, so that was a decision well-made.

For those keeping track at home, I’m feeling much better. OTOH, I’ve said that before. . .

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries. Lunch will be a chicken burger with a side salad. I have a lot of work to do on the business side of things, so this afternoon will be, um, busy. I do not think I will get to the grocery store today. I’m hoping tomorrow afternoon.

This morning, I wrote +/-1,870 new words. I’m starting to worry that this is going to be a very long book. The only length stipulation in our contracts is “at least 100,000 words,” so I’m taking that as, “Write ’til it’s Done.”

Big IRL victory, here! The FedEx guy actually put the Heavy Box o’cat litter in the garage. I mean, it was done in a surly fashion — dropped directly behind the car and at the very edge of the paving, so I’d be sure to run over it if I hadn’t noticed it was there before backing out. However, I did notice it, and used the push broom to scoot it safely further under shelter, and to one side, so all’s well and all like that.

The cats have been very attentive. Firefly took a half-shift while Tali and Rook attended me in Steve’s office. She accompanied me to the back when I came out to fetch my third cup of tea.

I really don’t have much else to offer. Yesterday was awful, and I am very tired of things that shouldn’t be a problem suddenly being a problem. *shakes fist at Getting Old*

Even though I installed my wordbook in the place where the native wordbook had been on Steve’s computer, LibreOffice is still not accessing them. I mean, it shows me that they’re all turned on, but unless I’m typing unusually well, it’s just not bothering to cross check. Well. Something else for the to-do list.

How’s everybody doing, here at the center of the week?

Hard at work on a rainy day: