Tag: writing

Team Orca and other whimsies

Monday. Sunny and warm. All windows that open have been opened.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with the last of the potato salad. Yes, I do this a lot. Yes, I like potatoes far too much. Lunch is in the oven — a small salmon steak, because I can’t remember the last time I actually ate fish, which is not particularly good news, as the cancer docs think that fish three times a week is just about right. Admittedly, my personal best was twice a week for several months, and that was with Steve pushing for all he was worth to make it happen.

I am very much liking this new writing schedule. Sat down at 9, and got up at 11:30 1,280 words the richer, and they’re good, says I, as shouldn’t.

Tomorrow, unfortunately, a break in the schedule, as I have an early visit to the vampires scheduled, something that hasn’t happened in way too long, ref hospital exploding, doctors landing all over the map, having to apply to be a new patient at the practice my PCP landed at, And! all like that.

I was watching a Josh Johnson clip, in which he was talking about the fact that the orcas had attacked another yacht, and the resonate phrase was, “Who expected the orcas would step up?” Which got me to wondering if there was a TEAM ORCA! sweatshirt and how I would go about getting one.

Facebook has also been serving me reels from Quincy’s Tavern, which is an … interesting work perhaps in progress. And it gives me the chance to use the word “ledgerdemain” with non-ironic precision, and with admiration.

Now that lunch is done, I’m on to the business part of the daily schedule: I seem to have a phone call and two letters to write, and! a Sooper Sekrit project to work on. So? I’d best get at it.

How’s Monday going for you lot?

Oh, wait!  Pictures.

Rosebush update!  It’s doing splendidly — new flowers and buds promising more:

And, I had intended to take a selfie, to prove that I was feeling much more the thing, but … Rookie had a better idea.  Admittedly, he is much more glamorous.

In which the writer has had more fun…

What went before: OK, so this is no fun. Apparently, I’m having a reaction to the COVID booster — the very first such reaction.

I am therefore taking the rest of the day off to curl up in a ball of misery under 45 blankets and three coon cats until my head stops hurting.

The good news is that the New Order allowed me to write 1,120ish new words, and the things I’m not getting done are business stuff that will just have to wait.

Hope everybody’s having a good Saturday.

Sunday.  The adventure continues.

As it turns out, I am … weller. The headache, which was the worst, is no longer with me. Fever’s gone. I am chilly, but that just might be because it’s chilly today and I haven’t turned on the oil heat, so we’re running with what the heat pumps and the sun through the window can provide.

OTOH, now I have muscle aches, and was briefly sick enough to my stomach that breakfast was a big cup of ginger and lemon tea with honey. I just went rooting around in the pantry, and it’s looking like that will be Progresso Chicken ‘n Rice Soup for lunch.

I have written +/- 1,000 words, and cleaned the cat boxes. A walk is not on today’s schedule. I do intend to write some more this afternoon, but there are two outstanding pieces of business mail that I have to get outta here, so that will be happening while I’m in the front of the house heating up my can of soup, and taking a break.

How I got 13 hours of sleep: I took a four hour nap, ably assisted by Nurse Rookie Cookie, who gamely declared he was up for four more, if needed. It being 6 pm by the time I arose, half-blind with the stupid headache, I served up Happy Hour a bit early, had a bowl of rice and two Tylenol — and went back to bed, whereupon I slept for nine hours. I did wake up once or twice, and noted the presence of Tali and Firefly.

So, apparently the tropes are not a gag, and author trading cards are serious business — this given the absence of an answer to my latest (no harm, no foul; at this point I’D be giving up on myself. Honestly, who is this out-of-touch old writer, anyway?).

The whole trope idea still makes me queasy and murderous, perhaps not quite in that order, but I believe I have engineered a Work Around. (And this is where we once again and reallyREALLY miss Steve, King of the, “Here, let me not do that for you, ‘k? This works for me; you go ahead and do what you do.” Insert charming smile.)

Into the trope column on the present form will go: honor, wit, true love, space opera. Those’re my tropes and I’m sticking with them.

And, honestly, that’s about as far as I can bend without breaking something, probably my last stick of patience, and it’s more or less what it says on the label: “The Liaden Universe: Where honor, wit, and true love are potent weapons against deceit and trickery.”

I will note that this morning’s writing session in Steve’s office was adorned by Firefly and Rook, with a brief visit from Tali, who doesn’t quiet Get It, yet. I am now in my office, attended by Rook and Tali, Firefly at last look was still snugged down in Sprite’s former aerie overlooking Steve’s desk.

And that’s the mixed bag o’news from the Cat Farm.

How’s Sunday treating everybody?

And furthermore…

I’m really glad I moved the writing part of my life back to Steve’s office. The business aspect of my life is a Terrible Snarl, which is going to take several hours, if not days to unsnarl. But! I will be able to Go To Work untroubled by the gnarly looking piles, and that’s a Good Thing.

I am also thinking that I will be wanting to move my writing time from afternoon/evening to morning. Get up, get breakfast, hit the story. This has never worked for me before, but, since I am now apparently a Day Person, we shall Make Adjustments.

Me doing creative work in the morning means that y’all will be getting the Confusion Factory Daily Update later in the day. I hope that doesn’t inconvenience anyone.

On the Trope Front, I have decided to treat the whole business as a game, because if I don’t I will descend into a Slough of Despond, because 35+ years of writing my head and heart out is going to be reduced to “meet cute.” I really am trying to meet the organizers of this thing halfway, but I fear I’m being just as hard on them as I feel they’re being on me.

Later, we can talk about how Tropes do a disservice to writer and to reader, if we want to. I expect I’m on the wrong side of the line, as I am with trigger warnings. I am a flawed being. As are we all.

Aside all of that… I do believe that I’ll pour myself an early glass of wine and go sit out on the deck.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll check in tomorrow afternoon.

Thursday at a glance

Installment ONE:  So, I got up, had breakfast, carried my tea to Steve’s office, and was at work by 9:15. Surfaced at 11:55 to go down to do my duty to the cats and take a walk. Now need to figure out if I’m going to order in or just zap a Lean Cuisine.

I need to do a couple things in the business office, from which location I write to you. Those include finishing making a list for my PCP visit tomorrow, researching where the new office actually is, and downloading the Word Book from this computer to take back to the writing computer, which had redlined every other word in the manuscript because it hasn’t been brought up to date.

Firefly kept me company in the writing room all morning, and Rookie popped in and out. He was clearly a little concerned about me sitting in Steve’s chair — was I actually allowed to do that? Apparently, he went off and checked the paperwork, because he has clearly accepted that, yes, I can do that.

Hope everybody’s having a good day. It’s lovely and sunny here, warm, but not hot.

Installment TWO:  Everyone who asked after the keyboard. It is a Kinesis Advantage2 keyboard. I’ve been using them for at least 20 years; started when my wrists went bad and I bullheadedly refused to give up typing, because speech recognition did not work for me at all. This is what happens when what you actually do instead of pronouncing words correctly is fake people into thinking you talk good by a combination of inflection and body language, neither of which translates into computer programs.

The Kinesis Advantage2 helps because your wrists are in a neutral position and your fingers can hang down in a neutral position, rather than being Poised! To! Strike! as is the case with a standard flat keyboard.

Yes, the learning curve was vile. And, also yes, the trade off is that I now can’t type on a flat keyboard, so if I’m taking my laptop on a trip, I either have to also take a keyboard almost as big as the laptop, or Accept that I’m going to be reduced to two-fingering it for as long as I’m away.

This is always a difficult choice because typing is my mode of expression of choice, right after interpretive dance.

Installment THREE:  OK, fun game!

First question: Do the Liaden books have any “tropes”? Examples given “grumpy sunshine,” “found family,” “the chosen one”? (What on earth is “grumpy sunshine” and do people really push the “tropes” in their books?)

Second question: Can you give us a 1 sentence (30 words) quote form one of your books? (“Yes,” which is my go-to, is not in this case a Valid Answer.)

In other news, the Lean Cuisine won, because I made the mistake of checking my mail. My plan is to eat, and then go back and write for another couple hours.

Installment FOUR:  OK. I have written to the originators of the Survey which included the Fun Questions.

So far today, I have Scrutinized the chapter-by-chapter, identified holes in the narrative and sketched in a couple of ideas to fill them. I finished writing a scene, for a total of more-or-less 1250 new words, and did more research. At this point, I might as well open my own noodle shop (no, I haven’t watched the movie yet; I’m a little leery of spillage, since I’m actively working on this situation for the book). I hoped to write more today, but that’s probably not going to happen? Because mail, and also I really ought to wash the dishes so I can find the sink. And see if, one! more! time! I can find LibreOffice’s Word Book.

Tomorrow is the much-complained about trip to Bath and the PCP. I suppose I might as well declare a Writer’s Day Off at this point, hit the bakery and tour the kitchen store, and plan on getting back to work on Saturday.

It looks like next week, I have, with the exception of Tuesday evening needlework, nothing scheduled, so that’s like a whole uninterrupted week of work. Fingers crossed that nothing comes up to force a change of plans.

So, that’s it. I feel like I had a very successful test-drive of separating the mundane and the writing work spaces, and I hope this continues to prove out.

Everybody have a good evening; I’ll check in as I can.

 

Believe in me, I’m with the High Command

What went before: 42% of new ramen shops close within the year; 72% close within three years.

Good heavens; I had no idea (1) how many people want to open noodle/ramen shops or (2) what the fail rate is.

Yes, I’m researching noodle shops for the WIP.

Because! You should write what you know.

Which means: Do your research.

Edited to add:  No, I’m not looking for stats; I’m looking for what you need in the kitchen.  The stats were just … there.

What went before: So, wrote a scene kind of like the scene I had in my head, about 1,180 words.

I have a couple of things to set up for the rest of the week, which is just chock full of fun. Book club early tomorrow afternoon — that’s fun. Mammogram at 8 am on Tuesday — not so much fun — and needlework tomorrow evening. They’re going to start charging me rent at the library.

Wednesday and Thursday are clear, and on Friday morning, I get to drive to Bath to visit my PCP. Could be worse, I guess. At least Bath is interesting, and I can reward myself for my patience by visiting the bakery, after.

Speaking of fun, I suddenly, and almost without warning, decided that I was done with low-stakes cozies for the moment and on the advice of a friend have taken on Shards of Earth by Adrian Tchaikovsky. So far, so good. It’s good to see what the Iloheen got up to in their retirement. And it’s good to be reminded that we/I don’t write ambitious books.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe; I’ll check in again tomorrow.

***

Earlier that same Monday: So, I often listen to Alan Hunter on Classic Rewind on Sirius XM. He’s doing something interesting — send him your top ten favorite songs from the “Cassette Era” and he, or somebody, will tally them up and play the Most Favorite Top Ten of Everybody Everywhere sometime in October.

Of course, I don’t remember Alan’s email address, and he did allow as how this is the sort of list that changes daily, if not hourly, but it’s an interesting challenge of itself.

So! I Challenge You! List your Top Ten Songs from the so-called “Cassette Era of Rock and Roll” (late 1970s-early 1990s) as of — Right Now.

Go.

My Top Ten before I finish my first cup of tea are (in no particular order, because that would be TOO crazy):
1 Silent Running, Mike and the Mechanics
2 Don’t Pay the Ferryman, Chris de Burgh
3 Werewolves of London, Warren Zevon
4 Don’t Fear the Reaper, Blue Oyster Cult
5 Under Pressure, Queen/Bowie
6 Burn with Me, Modern English
7 Missionary Man, The Eurythmics
8 Be Good to Me, Tina Turner
9 Sultans of Swing, Dire Straits
10 Beast of Burden, Rolling Stones

#

Reading over a section I wrote a couple days ago. Made note: “Korval pilots do not SCURRY.” Sheesh. Who writes this stuff?

So, Monday. Sunny and pleasant. Been doodling around with mini-projects. Getting my needles ready for the next project. Making a pot of rice, doing some business correspondence. Need to go downstairs and clean the cat boxes in a few. Book Club at 1.

Last night, after I quit for the day, I sat down and handwrote another two pages. I really need to sit down, seriously, with the chapter-by-chapter and make a list of What’s Missing, ’cause I could write Good Scenes until the Heat Death of the Universe. Still looking at that title. It may have to do.

I keep forgetting to mention for the edification of Rookie’s Fan Club — for all his obvious charms, and they are many, Rookie has not really been very chatty. Given that he’s a Maine Coon, that made him practically silent. As a kitten, his purr was so loud, it sometimes knocked him over, which was — no, we don’t laugh at our kittens. We tell them they’re Very Special to have Thought of That. Now that he’s a Big Cat, though, his purr is extremely soft and puffy, and while I have once or twice heard him yell in frustration, his vocalizations were mostly quiet, and directed to the other cats.

That has changed, since, I’ll say, since Trooper left us. Rook has taken to meeping at me, making eye contact and Stating A Thing.  He’s still much more quiet-spoken than Trooper, or even Sprite, who spoke softly, but with Great Clarity — but he’s talking, and he clearly means to communicate. So, yanno, that’s exciting.

The kid’s still growing.

I don’t think I have anything else to report. As said, I’ve got a few chores to do before I head off for book club, but it’s not really a very crowded looking day.

How’s your Monday shaping up?

Today’s blog post title from Mike and the Mechanics, “Silent Running,” because how could I not?

Also, cat tax.  Tali is getting bold:

The music’s callin’

What went before: Coon Cat Happy Hour arrives just as I’m finishing up the new Chapter-by-Chapter. Tomorrow, I’ve got some planning, and some writing to do.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

#

Cookie break!

Sunday. Sunny and warm.

Breakfast was — what was breakfast? Ah! I know — banana and grape “fruit salad” whole grain toast with cream cheese. Lunch will be a sweet potato in one form or another. I’m favoring stir-fried with onion and garlic at the moment, and maybe the chicken I have left over.

I finished filling out the attendees form for the book fair, and was rewarded with a page offering up an email address, in case I had questions, which of course I had questions, so I wrote. And received a lightning response. I am relieved to learn that there will be strong young persons standing by at the site to help schlepp. Also, I may be accepted by the event’s official retailer to be one of those present for whom they will graciously do the arithmetic, make the change, run the cards, and so forth. So I may not need to get a Stripe/Square. OTOH, p’rhaps I should. For Science. Or something. Oh. For Preparedness. Often more to the point than Science.

So, bottom line: It looks like the book fair is a Go, and now I need to bug poor Jason at Baen for table toppers, and post cards and … stuff.

In cat news, I brought Firefly with me into the bedroom last night, and she tried to sleep on my ankles, but eventually retired to the top of the dresser, which — at least she bore me company. Tali and Rook both checked in during the night, and I think Tali actually spent, like, twenty minutes up against my knee before Duty, or crunchies, Called.

Somewhat surprisingly, it’s Tali who’s decided that she can take on copilot duties.

I have a couple more letters to write, then lunch, then it’s time to write. I get to write a Fun! Scene! as a reward for having finished the Chapter-by-Chapter yesterday.

Oh! My birthday present to my self was a purple earring keeper, which is sparkly and very nice, but it needed something. Turns out the something it needed was Minerva. Thanks BaltiCon!

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog post title is from Steve Miller, “Swingtown“

I bet you say that to all the boys

What went before: Tools down for the day. The WIP currently weighs in at +/-72,300 words. Today is one of those days where I’m starting to panic because I have too much story to fit in the space that’s left. Tomorrow, I’ll be despondent because I’ll have too little story to fit the space that’s left.

Don’t mind me.

I had originally kinda sorta intended to go to Belfast tomorrow to visit the Saturday Farmer/Makers Market, but I’m feeling a tad oppressed by All The Things, so, instead of going out, I’ll stay in and, er, Cope. And, after all, next Friday I get to drive to Bath, so that’ll be a nice outing. Sigh.

I have been accepted as — I dunno. An author? A vendor? An author-vendor? at the Bangor Authors’ Book Fair and Literary Festival in December, which has brought on a wave of What Were You Thinking, and wondering if I ought to bow out now and let somebody else have my space, but! There are All Those Books in the Basement that have got to be gotten rid of somehow. Problem being I’d need to load in (hardcover) books, load out (hardcover) books, woman the table, take payment, make change . . . and I keep forgetting that I’m 73 and have a bad back, and no longer a mere child of 48, with a partner to share the lifting. And it’s not like I’ll sell more than six books, tops, because — science fiction that’s not Star Wars, and has Netflix made a movie?

So! I’ll sleep on that, I guess.

Firefly’s style of gathering the crew together for Happy Hour is very low key. She kind of mooches in around 5, checks to see am I busy, offers a few brush-bys and takes up a position on the supply chest or the observation table. The other two wander in over the next few minutes, check in with me and take their stations. I’m not alone, here, and I can feel their presence, but nobody’s yelling.

So, anyhow, tools down. I’ll get the kids Happy Hour’d, pour myself a glass of wine and come back to the desk for half-an-hour to get the bill-paying queued up.

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

* * *

“Will he offer me his hunger? And will he starve without me?”
Counsel for separating the artist from the art rests.

Saturday. Grey and cool. Went to bed early, slept badly, got up early. All of which seems very unfair, but here we are. I feel that I would sleep better if any of the current clowder would sleep with me, but they’re still processing their own loss, and without Trooper to gather everybody up and head for the bedroom, they sort of settle near each other and dream together.

Breakfast was two eggs, scrambled with onion, cheese, chicken; toast and sour cherry jam. Dinner will be left over noodles.

Having studied on this for six months, I am offering the quasi-expert opinion that the Second Year is Worse. Not that last year was a picnic, but systems that had been in place were still working. This year, I’m seeing the creep of entropy. Systems need care, after all, and there are So. Many. tiny subroutines to tend to. It really did take two of us to run this joint. Moreso because our real lives and our creative lives were so closely braided.

I had used to think that our System for Writing, for instance, in which we talked out ideas, ramifications, tried out bits of dialog, went for long rides, saying nothing, until one of us said, “But, What IF…” — I used to think that was pretty inefficient. Fun, but inefficient.

The present system, where I have to write everything as a Try Out, and then manually sort it through the filter of the Intended Result? Not only sucks, but takes more time. Our chaotic little subsystem was actually a dream of efficiency.

Well. Live and learn.

So, today! Today, we change out cat boxes, and do laundry, and catch up the Chapter-by-Chapter, and — write.

The unsettled night did produce a couple of ideas which might allow me to do the December book fair without loss of life, so I’ll be writing some emails today.

Regarding this ^^ — I have a handtruck. It’s swell, and I know how to use it. Steve and I used to have tables at cons, as SRM Publisher. I have packed books in and packed books out, made change and all the rest of it. This is how I know how much work it is. Summing up: I do not (NOT) need a handtruck. Thank you for your attention to this detail.

Firefly and Rook are playing tag. This is good. Firefly is harder for Rook to catch than Tali, not because Firefly is faster (objectively, Tali is probably fastest), but because Firefly cheats, vanishes into doorways and waits for Rook to speed by, then darts off in the other direction, trailing nah-nah-nahs like red balloons.

And I think that’s all I’ve got this morning, if I want to get the rest of the to-do done.

What’s everybody doing today?

This morning’s blog post title brought to you by Meatloaf and Ellen Foley, “You took the words right out of mouth“

I’ll find out, when I get there

Friday early in the morning: Ducking in real quick to answer the morning’s most frequent questions.

The name of the character is Zigfrid, and she has a problem. What a surprise.

The caricatures of Steve and me hanging on the wall in one of the photos I posted yesterday are by Howard Taylor, creator of Schlock Mercenary. They were done at Denvention, the 66th World Science Fiction Convention, in Denver.

In that same photo, Rookie is not scared or angry. His tail is always like that.

And! Not a question, but an observation. I’ve been listening to Black Cats (soft) Jazz on Youtube, and like it very much. The cats don’t seem to like jazz, but I’m hoping it’ll grow on them, acknowledging that jazz is, like a Certain Professor, an Acquired Taste. Steve, for instance, loved him some blues, gypsy jazz, and fusion, most of which does not work for me.

All that said — onward! I’ll check back in, post-flu-shot.

Friday, post-flu-shot: Well. That was . . . an adventure.

An adventure, yes.

So, while I was getting my flu shot, I asked the nice young pharmacist when I could get reboosted on the COVID vaccine, the last booster I had being March. He kind of looked at the ceiling and said, kind of apologetic, “Well, see, the CDC isn’t making recommendations any more.” “Yes,” I said, “but aside that.” Weeeelllll, aside that, they don’t have, that is, they just can’t give, or well, actually — I need a prescription from my doctor stating that it is “medically necessary. “Otherwise,” said the pharmacist, “I’d give you one today. It’s been six months. I’m sorry; it’s really inconvenient.”

Well, no. I mean, yes, it is inconvenient, but they’re going to kill people. Already have killed people. And are So. Very. Proud. of Themselves.

I HATE this timeline.

I did some grocery shopping after getting my shot, and STILL there was no candied ginger on the shelf, so after I finished my business with Uncle Hannaford, I went down to Uncle Dean’s, and had my choice of several bags on the shelf. Which is why we need a natural market in town.

I’m home now, and everything put away. Next up is sitting down with some ice on my back and reading a chapter of my book, then! Lunch, and then?

To work.

Today’s blog post title from Tom Petty, “Learning to Fly.”

Cat pics and embroidery project The Next:

Egg rolls and embroidery

Wow. Thanks to everyone who sent birthday greetings. I can’t possibly answer each of you individually. Your wishes mean a great deal.

I had a pleasant, low-key kind of a day. In the morning, I sat in the comfy chair in my office in the sun and finished my embroidery project. I caught up with the character who refused to tell me her name and learned quite a lot about her, which of course meant that I had to rewrite a couple more scenes, but that’s OK! This is still the working draft; nothing is written in stone. Or even indelible ink.

I had stir-fried noodles and chicken, with egg rolls for lunch. I still have noodles left over, so that’s good.

The cats have been hanging with each other a lot today, largely congregating in Steve’s office. I’m assuming they’re doing some group work, and I let them have at it. Rook came by a couple times to check in, and Firefly and I did have a long chat about how being Boss Cat doesn’t mean she has to go it alone. I don’t know all the stuff that Trooper knew, because how could I? But I do know some stuff and have a lot of experience, so she’s not completely without backup. She seemed to feel better after our talk.

Tomorrow morning, I have a flu shot scheduled. By chance the pharmacy is in the grocery store, so I’ll be doing some shopping while I’m there. Then, I hope to come home and write some more.

Below are a few pics from the day, including the finished embroidery project.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll check in at some point tomorrow.

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.