Tag: writing

Tuesday reportage

Tuesday. Gloomy, rainy, and cool.

Dithered around this morning with an outtake from Kin Right, which I’m expecting will become a chapbook along the lines of The Wrong Lance, while I printed out the current WIP which I will be reading (yes, again) since it appears that the sudden shock knocked the damn’ thing right out of my head.

I’m on my way to PT. I’ll hit the grocery after, come home, put groceries away, then head out for needlework.

The cats are sticking with me, with Rookie taking the lead in Administration — explaining to me when the cat bowls need refilling, demanding that I be to work on time, and guiding me back to Steve’s office, in case I’ve forgotten where it is, and accompanying me downstairs to perform my duties there. He’s also being sure to sleep with me, at least for a few hours, though not in Tali’s spot under my arm — he prefers to have a space next to my pillow.

Firefly has taken over lap duty. Historically, Firefly has been a Sit-With Cat, as opposed to a Lap Sitting Cat. Tali was *definitely* a Lap Sitting Cat, so it seems that duty has passed, at least for a while, until the human gets her act back together.

Someone had asked if “cat CPR” might’ve saved Tali’s life, and the answer to that is multifaceted. One — I don’t know. Two — I don’t know how to do “cat CPR;” in fact didn’t know it existed until the question came up, and? I would be terrified that I would have done more and more grievous damage, considering how much force has to be put into human CPR.

I do appreciate the people who have contributed to the cost of the lab work, and, yes, the cattery is helping.

Oh! A package arrived today via FedEx in an Unmarked Van, and the nice young man walked down the drive and handed it to me, since I had seen the truck and opened the door.

And now? I’d better get outta here.

Everybody stay safe.

Catching up Thursday with a dash of Friday, too

So, yesterday went a little pear-shaped. I had planned on an all-writing day, but Real Life intervened, which meant I got a couple hours of writing done, plus my duty to the cats, plus some little bit of embroidery while listening to Chanur’s Venture. I did chat a bit on Facebook, mostly about cats. To wit:

Answering the question that went past and now I can’t find it again: Is Tali the biggest Maine coon currently in house?

The contestants are:
Firefly, calico — 6 years, 11 lbs
Tali, orange tabby — 4 years, 13 lbs
Rook, black– 2 years, 13 lbs

Ladies and gentlebeings, we have a tie!

Biographical notations:
Firefly is petite, for a Maine Coon. She’s also an adult, by Maine Coon reckoning, and the most retiring of the present lot of supervisors. She’s affectionate, but easily overwhelmed, and can frequently be seen thinking. It is well to recall that Firefly has taken . . . many losses: Belle, Steve, Sprite, and Trooper.

Tali is the most compact of the three; when she lands on your lap, you know you’ve been landed on. She is the supervisor who demands the most lap-time. Very bossy, our Tali.

Rook is a growing boy; easily distracted, very affectionate, and scary smart. He and Tali have formed a partnership — he keeps time and she registers the complaint.

More about Maine Coon growth stages here.

The above led to the question of which was the largest Maine coon we had owned, to which I answered: You know? I’m not sure. Hex(apuma) was pretty big, but lanky. I thought Mozart–our first Maine Coon–was Ginormous when I first saw him. I think he might’ve clocked in at 14 or 15 pounds. Trooper was 17 pounds FORever, and in her heyday Belle had a pound on two on him. Sprite was right around 15 pounds. To put all of this into perspective, a Bichon Frise (aka “the little white dog everybody has”–I finally asked someone what breed her dog was) will weigh between 12 and 15 pounds.

This answer led to the evergreen But I thought Maine Coon cats were HUGE! To which I answered: Breed standard for Maine Coons is females 12-15 pounds, males 18-22. So, yeah, I guess I’ve had small Maine Coons. Given that domestic cats average from 8-12 pounds, that’s big enough.

Maine Coon breed standards here.
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All of which leads us handily into today, which I believe to be Friday–sunny and going to be warm-but-not-hot.  Tomorrow, we’re looking for the rainy rags of the nor’easter that’s been plaguing downcoast to arrive.

I had flat egg and Swiss cheese on homemade bread for breakfast, I am updating my blogs while I drink my third cup of tea, and will shortly be moving back to Steve’s office to accomplish some work on the WIP. For lunch, I have my choice of warming up a pre-cooked pork chop with … I think there’s carrots left over, or warming up leftover chicken pot pie.

Not a particularly ambitious day, but mine own.

And hoping yours is enjoyable.

Reading the past

The coon cats were keeping a Very Close Eye this morning.  Photographic proof here

Wednesday. Sunny, clear, and cool.

The misdelivered box came home this morning. The heat pump situation has been rectified and a tutorial received. I’ve read 150 pages/24,000ish words of an incomplete Jethri novel which I think was being set up to explain why Jethri’s genes were all over Spadoni Station in “Revolutionists,” with a side of Shakespeare. Written in 2020.

The bit I remembered is part of the Spadoni Station/Shakespeare fragment (if you can call a quarter-book a “fragment”), and while it could be hammered into what I’m working on, I think it will better serve as what’s nowadays called a “short novel” (Remember when ALL novels were 50,000 words? Yeah, yeah, and cost 25 cents.). It won’t be canon, but we’ve done this before. So! This bit gets put aside for later finishing and publication through Pinbeam Books.

I still have 37,000ish words to read of yet another “failed” piece — this one recognizably coming off of Fair Trade, written in September 2022. Fair Trade was published in May 2022.

Just for fun, I also have 3700ish words of a short story, that I wrote in November 2001, passed to Steve, and it got set aside in the Press of Other Business. What in Ghu’s name were we even doing in November 2001? We were still with Meisha Merlin, and Balance of Trade wasn’t published until 2004. Why was Jethri even — oh, wait. “Balance of Trade,” the novella, would have already been published in Absolute Magnitude. That’s why Jethri was even, and makes more sense of the story, too. We were thinking ahead, as we tended to do. Anyhow, I’ve only glanced at it, not really read it. Might be able to be finished without too much trauma, if I get enough flex in the rest of life.

Pay copy comes first.

The rest of today is, alas, chores.

I finished reading The Glass-Cursed last night — it’s a cozy, I guess, because the decision was made to let the Group Handle It, rather than allow one of their number to take the whole cost of the thing onto herself, despite her part in having created the problem in the first place. “Many hands make the work light,” and also “Grace to those who fought.” I did finish it, but it was starting to wear on me after a bit, which I means that, for me, it could’ve been shorter. Also, there are serious timing problems at the end when the characters don’t seem to know if something took two days or seven months, and the Really Important Question of How a certain thing got produced, given that there’s no X, and also Y is completely ignored.

I started the book club book at lunch, The Burgess Boys, by Elizabeth Strout, partially set in Shirley Falls, Maine, which is big enough to have a hotel, so it can’t actually be set in Skowhegan, which was where my mind went.

And that? Is all my news.

What’s yours?

Collaboration

Tuesday. Sunny and cool.

Today’s writing was chasing down partials and half-remembered notes from Steve’s side of his computer. I had a couple of bad minutes when I thought I was going to have to drag out his old Windows machine and do a forced march through that hard-drive, but just when the night seemed darkest, I found the piece I was looking for.

Which, as it happens, is not, as Steve had insisted at the time, wrong; it was just in the wrong place. This happens a lot, especially in the writing of novels. Which is why you might take That Piece There out of the active file, but you never throw it away.

Having found the files, I have some reading to do, but that’s for tomorrow. For today, I’ve spent every available spoon going through Steve’s indexes, which was a reminder–yet again–that, no, we didn’t think alike–and that’s why we worked.

Ah–there will be some, I suppose, who will wonder why I’m ferreting out these bits and pieces–surely, it would be easier to “just” write on in a forwarder direction? And, yanno? Maybe it would be. But this was Steve’s book, and God She knows he broke not a few brain cells on the thing, and it’s my intention to tell the story he intended–he wanted–to tell. Insofar as I can, being as we didn’t think alike, but I’m the one left standing.

In so-called Real Life, the heat pump in my bedroom seems to be On Da Fritz, so I’ll be calling the heat pump company in a few to see what they can do for me.

This evening is needlework, which I really want to go to. I skipped last week because my back wasn’t up for the chairs.

And that would be the contents of my brain on this fine morning.

What’s filling up your brain today?

Saturday with writing and bread

Saturday. Sunny and cool.

Wrote about 600 words this morning, and discovered that I twitched something that I should’ve tweaked, so I printed out the offending pages and will sit with them later to try to untangle the he-said/she-said.

Since I’m down to my last two slices of bread, I’m baking a loaf, which is in for its first rise. I’ve cleaned up the kitchen. Still need to perform my duty to the cats.

Nothing much else doing, except the observation that it’s apparently Tali’s afternoon to keep me Under Surveillance. Either that, or she just likes to watch bread being put together.

Oh. The question of When Can We Buy Kin Right, which has come up three or four times in the last week.

ANSWER: The last I heard from Baen was that Kin Right would be published in “Spring 2027.” So now everybody knows as much as I do.

Also! It’s “taking so long” because I needed 18 months, instead of our usual year, to write it, which meant I turned it in to Baen in April 2026, instead of October 2025.

The reason I had to “take so long” to write it is because my co-author died in February 2024, and the September 2024 delivery date for that book (Diviner’s Bow) had in actuality not been extended, as I had thought it had been, which meant that I had to scramble hard to turn it in on time, or, rather, only a little late. Which in turn meant that I was exhausted, and that Creative Well we all talk about was dry and I needed some down time before I pulled the next rabbit out of my hat. Files under “Writers are Human.”

I think that really is all.

How’s Saturday going at your place?

Friday

Friday. Sunny and warm enough.

Sarah has been and gone, leaving a clean house in her wake. I’ve washed and dried the towels, folded and put them away. There’s a load of t-shirts washing and supper’s in the stove.

One thousand four hundred thirty new words written this morning. Turns out the 300 words I wrote yesterday were good; they were just in the wrong place. WIP now weighs in at 61,310. Ish.

The cats joined me in Steve’s office this morning, and there they all still are, melty-sleeping in the sun puddles.

Currently reading The Glass-Cursed by P.H. Blackwood, which has an interesting voice, and seems to want to talk about PTSD and the accommodations demanded by Real Life of those returning from a war. This is, I note, a Cozy Fantasy.

I’m listening to The Paladin by CJ Cherryh.

Which improbably reminds me that, now that I’ve viewed Murderbot in one mad rush, I need to cancel my subscription to Apple-TV before it flips over from free to pay me.

It looks like my weekend’s free, and I’m tempted to drive down to the ocean. Only, my back still hurts, so — maybe not. Well. There’s always a book to write.

Who’s got Plans for the weekend?

Anything Can Happen Day

Wednesday. Dim and coolish. I had the doors open in Steve’s office for a while, but somebody is setting off firecrackers across the river, while on this side of the river, they (THEY) are deconstructing the bridge, now that the other bridge is back in service, and between the noise of this and that, the cats asked me to close up, and I was pleased to oblige.

I slept for 10 hours and 16 minutes last night (according to the Garmin Watch), which is what happens when you take a muscle relaxant before going to bed. Sadly, the only muscle the meds seem to have relaxed has been the one that I scarcely use, in-between my ears.

When I did finally arise from my rosy bower, I made myself a sausage-and-cheese sandwich on a buttermilk biscuit. After breakfast, I hit the showers and then the keyboard, where I managed 1,275 new words, bringing the WIP to 59,580ish, in total.

The Plan, insomuch &c, is to do my duty to the cats, find something for lunch, then — maybe — take another muscle relaxant and/or, oh, I dunno, watch Murderbot, which is now available through Prime Video, by which I mean, I can pay extra for Apple TV through Prime, and so binge the first season of Murderbot, which may actually be a good idea. And, yanno, it being Anything Can Happen Day, maybe my back will cut me a break.

Tomorrow, I need to get up at OhmyGHOD in order to arrive at the hospital for the yearly mammogram at 7! A!M!. Who makes these appointments, and why haven’t they been fired?

Oh. Wait.

After said visit to the radiology department, I do believe I will eat breakfast out, for the second time in a week. Then I will either come home and go back to bed — not the way the smart money bets — or turn on the computer and get some more writing done.

And what’s happening for you on Anything Can Happen Day?

Writing down and packing up

Tuesday. Sunny and cool. Trash and recycling have been taken up, though I haven’t gone out to bring the empty bin back into the garage yet.

Today’s writing was a little bit of a struggle, but I finally wrestled 1,050 new and on-topic words onto the page, bringing the WIP to 58,300ish total words.

I probably didn’t mention this triviality here, but a couple weeks ago, the silicon strap on my Garmin watch broke — by which I mean the floating loop fell apart, leaving about two inches of Free Silicone sticking out at an angle that caught on things and was a constant danger and aggravation.

Long story short, I went to Etsy and bought a new watch band — mesh, with a magnetic clasp (let it be known that I hated the band that came with, which was too bulky and I could either fasten it too loosely or too tightly, but not — yeah. Cue Goldilocks.)

My new watch band arrived yesterday and while it was nerve-wracking In The EXTREME to get it attached, that’s behind me now, and it is perfect. I actually forgot that I’m wearing a watch at all, my wrist isn’t bruised from a too-tight strap, nor is the watch spinning around and catching on things.

So, yay. I wish the loop had torn a year ago.

All that said, it’s time to find something for lunch, by which I probably mean a Chinese pancake, and then to putting away all the Stuff I had pulled out and into a pile for the teaching of my class.

What are you doing today?

Monday at last

Monday. Sunny and cool. Woke early and had a blueberry breakfast bar at the desk while I made notes Going Forward, read over and adjusted yesterday’s work, and wrote 920ish new words. The WIP now weighs in at 57,250ish.

I need to eat an early lunch so I can make PT on time and not be starving by the end of it. Chores to do when I come home.

News is that I do not have enough people signed up to make my class viable, so I’ll be pulling the plug on that, which is both good news and bad news. I’m going to have to sit down and figure out how-or-if I can do this with less than half the optimum number of participants, and if I can, I’ll try again next session.

How’s the week shaping up at your house?

Rainy Sunday

Sunday, though I’ve somehow gotten a day ahead of myself, and keep sliding into the belief that it’s Monday.

Rainy, chilly, dim, and just not terribly pleasant. It’s a good day to build and occupy a blanket fort, actually. I may see if I can work that in, after lunch.

One thousand eighty new words written this morning, after the cats buckled down and got to work. This brings the WIP to 56,330ish words, total.

I’ve got some banking, accounting, and other thrilling chores to finish here at the desk, but first, I should eat lunch.

Who else is for building a pillow fort?