Tag: writing

Sunday midday

Sunday. Sunny. It’s going to be warmer than yesterday.

My back does not hurt. No, I misspeak. What I mean to say is that my back only hurts the normal amount and that I can, literally, work with that.

Prudence dictates that I do not go to the Oxford gem show today. I’m sure they’ll do fine without me.

The actual plan for today is to not weed the garden, which really,  really needs it. Maybe I’ll throw in a load of laundry to feel like I’m doing something to alleviate the chaos that is the present state of the house.

I will be writing.

I’m about halfway through EMoon’s Horngard, and having a really fine time with it. You guys are going to love this one!

This morning I received news from the US postal service of interest to us all. The perambulating package left New York yesterday, arrived in New Hampshire, and was drop kicked to — anyone? . . . Yes, you, right here in front . . . In fact — yes. Thank you.

The Southern Maine sorting center, the root cause of all of this unseemly gadding about the Northeast.

USPS informs me that I will have my package tomorrow, Monday, July 13th.

I await developments with interest.

What developments are you awaiting with interest on this fine Sunday morning?

Dictated to my phone. Please excuse voice-os
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Getting started snippet. This will perhaps be familiar to anyone who has been on, or witnessed, a panel at a con.

“Right,” Tez said. “Meetin’ rules. Hear me out—all the way out, Cousins!—before questions. Question period’s limited to questions, neither captain nor crew is asking for advice or alternate plans. The quicker the questions are put and answered, the quicker we can get back to our beers. Who of you don’t understand what I just said? Put up a hand.”
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Spent the morning trying to track down this “ruler fractin” Jethri has in his pocket in Steve’s last draft. I have concluded that this was not set up in Fair Trade, and now I get to decide if it’s useful/I want to keep it. If I want to keep it, I have to introduce it, which ought not to be completely impossible, being as Jethri took delivery of a Whole Lotta fractins from Elsvair.

Well.

Research is still writing, but it’s not words, and I want words while I still know (more or less) what I’m doing. Once we leave Sactizzy, things are not nearly so straightforward. What a surprise.

All that to say that I’m taking a break in order to make something that looks like lunch (and, yes, to eat it, not just admire it).  I expect to go back to the WIP this afternoon and write a chapter.

I’m still feeling somewhat off-center, which I guess losing six pounds in three days will do for you. So! Lunch. And maybe even ice cream.

Tomorrow is book club, and I have to reschedule the appointment to get my hair cut, since there was no way I was able to keep Thursday’s appointment. And of course, there’s needlework on Tuesday evening. After that, it looks like I have a good handful of days in a row to actually bear down on the WIP, so I’m really trying to be sure that I have something to bear down on.

I also need to figure out how to take care of the garden I have, which is so low-maintenance I’m embarrassed that it’s a problem. Before my back staged its most recent drama, I had been thinking that I would go out every evening and put in a solid 15 minutes, which, so I reasoned then, wouldn’t challenge either my back or my knees. Too much. I’m going to have to re-evaluate this.

In the meanwhile, if any of my gardeners are still with me, I have a question. A blackberry bush has appeared in that same front garden, which — blackberry bushes are weeds around thisaway. I know the birds eat the berries, and I’m not unwilling to let them have at it, but! Blackberry bushes are also on a mission, as I understand the case, to take over the earth. I wish to avoid the blackberry bush fulfilling its mission in my garden. How do I contain it?

Spanish Aunts.

And! I need to go put the pieces of lunch into one plate, so I can actually eat.

How’s everybody doing so far?

She wants a car with a cupholder armrest

Saturday. Sunny and not going to be quite so hot.

Had a good sleep and a fine dream just before waking. Steve and I had been given the happy news that we were being given a permanent residence and needed to move out of our temporary apartment. We were in the process of this when something I don’t quite understand happened to divert our attention to what was perhaps a police action. However, by the time we had been called to assist in that, we had moved our stuff- we seemed to have a lot less stuff in the new situation- and located our cat, who was on the other side of the parking lot. Steve got the cat inside just as the call for our attention came in.

It was a puzzling dream but not particularly unhappy or fraught.

I woke up soon after and my back didn’t hurt, but that’s changed now. This is getting old.

I’ve sat longer in the window than I meant but I had Firefly’s attention for some time, and since she had quite a lot to say, I figured not to interrupt her.

I’m planning on scrambled eggs for breakfast and then going to write. I thought I was going to Oxford today for the gem show but I think that’s off the table.

For those following the Perambulations of the Package, as of this morning it had made its way from the Rochester NY sorting station to the Northwest Rochester sorting station (which seems to be the wrong direction, but perhaps it’s a matter of “North” trumping “West”), and the United States Post Office disavows any knowledge of when it may arrive… anywhere.

Firefly has cleared my lap, Tali has visited briefly, and also moved on.

My first cup of Russian caravan tea is gone. Sounds to me like I ought to go find breakfast.

How’s everybody doing today? See less
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So, that’s 1,130ish new words written, bringing the WIP to +/-25,525, finally breaking 25,000 words, something I’d thought I’d see much earlier in the week.

I need to do my duty to the cats and then, I believe I shall, oh. Eat something. And then sit in the window and read my book.
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I have progress to report!

I ate lunch, for definitions of lunch. I unloaded the dishwasher and put the dishes away! I reloaded the dishwasher from the sink full of dirty dishes! And! I did the dishes that can’t go into the dishwasher.

Now, of course I’m exhausted, but that’s what my book is for.

When I sat down in the comfy chair in Steve’s office, Rookie immediately threw himself into my lap so I guess I’m here for awhile.

Today’s blog post title is from Cake: “Short skirt, long jacket“.  Yes, again.

Diary of a challenging few days

I have, apparently, been having too much fun, and my back decided to take revenge.

Deets below, but first — have some day lilies:

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Wednesday:
And today’s snippet to live by, from Diviner’s Bow: A contract negotiation between a master trader and a trader. The master trader has just asked if the trader has reviewed the proposed contract and found it sufficient. She replies that she wishes to change one thing.

“You astound me,” [the master trader murmured]. “Expose, I pray, the contract’s deficiency.”

“I found no deficiency. Merely, I wish to amend the initial period to three Standards, rather than six.”

“Six Standards is our usual term,” Shan said, sternly.

Padi opened her eyes wide.

“Is it, indeed?” she asked wonderingly.

Shan laughed. “I taught you that,” he said.
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Thursday. Sunny and going to be hot.

Yesterday afternoon fell apart in a big way because my back started hurting, and it all went downhill from there.

On top of the pain, or because of the pain, I have had a very dicey stomach and today seems to be more of the same. Sitting in the window right now with Kelly on my lap and a cup of well honeyed ginger tea. Pretty soon I’m going to have to figure out something to eat.

Hope everybody is feeling better than I am. I’ll check in as can.
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Friday:
Business first: “Kelly” cited in yesterday’s posting to the internets, is actually Tali. Speech to text is not always very smart.

Well. Friday. Sunny, though the weather beans insist that it’s cloudy.

Woke up this morning pain-free! I immediately started making plans more fool I, though I did manage to eat food for breakfast before my back started in again. So win, I guess, and I really do need to eat, before I get to the point where I just don’t bother, a known danger which needs to be avoided at all costs.

To be fair, my back still doesn’t hurt as much right now as it did yesterday, even yesterday evening when I convinced myself to eat an apple tart with ice cream, on the theory that even dessert is better than no food at all.

I had hoped that I would be able to write today and I’m still trying to figure out how to make that happen. On the one hand, it doesn’t do anyone any good to just sit at the desk and stare, so the first assessment should be: Is my brain clear enough to allow me to write? And I guess the first test for that is sitting in the office chair and seeing if it hurts so much that I can’t think.

What fun.

I should report that Tali is very much in favor of the sitting/ lying around doing nothing schedule. She’s been my more or less constant companion in this. The other two have given up in fustration, and I really can’t blame them for that.

I did yesterday finish listening to Neogenesis, and I must report a notable lack of “AI technobabble.” Also? Boy, does a lot happen in that book! It’s a trilogy all by itself.

I’ll be taking a break from Liaden books for the next while to read Hornguard by Elizabeth Moon, which I’m looking forward to.

And now that my teacup is empty and Tali has gotten up to have a wee snack, I guess I’ll go back and see how the desk chair likes me.

I hope everyone is having a lovely Friday.

PS. Apologies in advance for typos (voice-os?) that may appear in the above.
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Later that same day:  Sat with the manuscript and added about 500 words.

I’ve been alternating ice and heat every hour and a half, I guess, to try to help get my back to normal.

I have eaten lunch!

There are many chores that I should be doing– clearing the dishwasher, reloading it, putting things away and etc. That’ll happen later, by I which I mean–oh, tomorrow, or maybe even Sunday.

For now, I have dared a Tylenol against increasing pain, and hoping it won’t make me sick.

My plans for the afternoon are taking my book to a comfy chair, turning on the heating pad, and reading.

This is even more boring than writing all day. My apologies.
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This is one of Rook’s whiskers. It is four-and-three-quarters inches long.

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Sigh. So, I was warned a couple days ago to expect delivery of a package via USnail, which was not delivered and in addition vanished from Informed Delivery.  It showed up in the timeline again today as an expected delivery, so I went to look at it on the Informed Delivery page.

The package under question left Maryland on July 7, and made it all the way to the Southern Maine sorting center, from whence it was sent on to the Essex MA sorting center–which is to say in the Completely Wrong Direction. Essex decided to send the package to Rochester, NY, where it languished for a day or so before this morning hopping on a mail truck going north.

The package is still listed as Going to be Delivered by 9 pm today, which probably means to the local post office, and not my house, but even so.

Even so–it still needs to get through at least one, and probably two, sorting centers in Mass, then the Southern Maine sorting center, which is the center that sent it back to Mass in the first place.

I wonder if I should start a betting pool…
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And that’s what’s been going on at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory. Fingers crossed that this will all be History tomorrow.

The first day lilies of summer

Monday. Breezy, sunny, and pleasant.

Wrote 1,000ish words today. Sadly, they replace the 1,000ish words I wrote yesterday, which had been predicated upon a misremembered history set forth in Balance of Trade. At least now the new scene is right, and I still get to keep Billy Wilde, who I so wanted on account of his ship is AcesWilde (or maybe WildeAce, to make a match with WildeToad), and not because I have any particular fondness for Billy himself. Well. Except that he has a piece of news that the other characters need.

Writer math.

What else? Vacuumed, performed my duty to the cats, took a walk, gathered the trash and recycling into the garage for tomorrow’s migration to the curb, scheduled a haircut for Thursday. Ate lunch. Broke a favorite (of course) plate. After I finish this letter to the internets, I’ll sit down with my notes for the WIP and refresh myself, now that I’ve broken 100 pages. Twice.

In neighborhood news, it looks like the new owners are moving into the big farmhouse. A car towing a trailer and a truck with the bed full of stuff arrived as I was getting lunch together.

Tomorrow is supposed to be a little cooler than today, so The Amended Plan is to arise and do breakfast, set out the trash, and go to Appleton early. After I’ve lavendered my fill, I’ll skate over to Belfast, hit the co-op and forage for either lunch or ice cream, and be back home in time for needlework.

And that? Would be all of my news.

What’s your news?

And!  Let’s give it up for the first day lilies of summer, Cat Farm Time:

 

The angels have stolen my red shoes

What went before: Sunday. Sunny, breezy, and … seasonal. Hopefully, the heat wave has broken. We’re not built for heat waves up here in the northlands.

At the end of today’s writing session, I can report that! (1) I wrote 1590 new words, and! (2) the WIP has broken 100 pages, standing at +/-23,700 words.

Time to eat lunch, do my duty to the cats and some housetending.

I was surprised at the relatively low fireworks action last night. There was a display at Rummel’s Field, a couple blocks over, which I could hear, and also see some of the sky displays out the front window. Next year, the trees will be tall enough to block them.

Rookie sat on the cat tree in that window, and watched the show. Firefly retreated to Steve’s office, and Tali valiantly stayed with me on the couch, pressed against my leg, ears twitching at each boom! Every so often, she looked at me with a kind of “Are you sure about this?” expression. I would squint my eyes, and she would sigh and put her head down again.

So, there’s that.

Tomorrow, I may go to the lavender farm in the morning. Or not. I am fluid as to timing. I do need to find particulars of the boat tour of the Messalonskee on Saturday, but I can’t call the Adult Ed office until tomorrow.

I hope everyone is having a relaxing day.
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Forgot I was out of bread. Guess I’ll make this box of Scottish Toasting Bread.
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A notable day. Not only did George RR Martin (if that really was you, George–thanks) write to praise Diviner’s Bow and the entire Liaden Universe, but Steve’s In Memoriam on the SFWA site lists as his co-author/wife some woman named Sharon Lee Miller.

OTOH, the bread’s out, and it’s being very hard to resist, and I’m working toward a solution for all the photographs Steve just pitched willy-nilly into paper boxes and shoved into the back of his closet. I had had a go at straightening them out a couple years ago, and gave up, but this time, I have A Plan of Attack, so maybe the photos can at least get ordered by Where/When Was This Taken, which will do for a rough first sort, and if I want to fine it down, I can do that later.

All that said, I’m kind of tired, so — shutting down for the evening.

Everybody have a good night. Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Today’s blog post title comes to you from Elvis Costello, “Red Shoes.”

Saturday at the Cat Farm

Saturday. Sunny and not quite so hot as previous days.

I’m trying to up my daily word count, at least for this bit right here, where I really feel like I know all of our old friends Who, What, Where, and Why. So! The goal is 1,000 words for each writing session.

I do have some more Writer’s Days Off upcoming. Monday or Tuesday, for instance, I wish to visit the lavender farm in Appleton. And on Saturday, the boat tour of the Messalonskee I signed up for in Coldest January, will finally take place. Also, there’s the gem show in Oxford on Sunday. Which is almost looking like Too Much Fun, but! Summer is short and Winter is long.

Speaking of word count, today’s efforts produced 1,098 new words, for a WIP total of 22,110. Ish.

After lunch, which is up realsoonnow, I need to change out the cat fountains, feed the cats, scoop the boxes, and do some bookkeeping. A Theme!

Tomorrow, I may be able to return to writing after lunch, if I’m very ambitious this afternoon.

So! box lunch out of the freezer today. Yesterday’s hot dog from FiveGuys hit the spot, and the vanilla milkshake, too, so I should be good on the radioactive poison front for the next few months.

The cats all joined me in Steve’s office for my writing session, and they’re all still there, napping in sun puddles, and living their best lives. Or so I hope.

How’re you doing today?

Then I am the King of the Cats!

Nonsense first.  Back when, I collected retellings of “The King of the Cats.”  This one came across my FB feed last night.  I’m not sure the link will work, but on the off-chance:  The King of the Cats
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I’ve been needing a lot of extra therapy sessions lately.  Happily, my counselor is flexible:

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Monday. Sunny and starting to warm up toward our climactic Unsafe Heat Event, scheduled for Thursday.

Plans for the day include calling the peach ripe, cutting it up and having it for breakfast with cottage cheese. Because I can. After, I’ll go on back to Steve’s office and do some writing.

Yesterday afternoon went pear-shaped. I threw the bedclothes in to wash and the washing machine lost its mind — it entered the spin cycle, and then would start over with a rinse, over and over and over (the water district sent me a message last night that my water use was 2.5X over the average, and I might have a leak). I finally managed to get a half-spin, and dragged the soggy sheets out to the wooden laundry dryer I’d gotten out of the basement and set up on the (sunny at that point) deck, and — long story short; everything worked out, but I always feel like it’s somehow my fault when stoopid technical stuff happens, and that if Steve were here, it wouldn’t have happened.

Which! Is patently wrong, and I can very vividly remember several times when Technology Struck and Steve was standing Right There.

Given the above, I did not attempt to double-string my mobile, but settled down with my ice tea and a book, and then there was the non-thunderstorm, and from there it just all spiraled into an unhappy evening.

Hoping for better today.

I’m about 230 pages into Alliance of Equals, which I recall many people complaining about. So far, I’m finding it much better written than Dragon in Exile, which surprises me, and not at all off-putting. Of course, I don’t mind books that jump around, so long as the author makes clear where we are, and so far the author has done so. Well. Maybe it all falls apart at the end. We’ll see.

And all that said? I’d best get breakfast and start the day.

What’s the weather where you are?

And, for those who are still with me — here’s the rest of the story:

Half-a-Sunday

Sunday. Sunny and warmer than latter days.

This morning’s work was going through Kin Right in search of those errors and fixing them. I herewith report progress: One was not an error, merely the time has not yet arrived. The other two … can be explained, in-world, and therefore are not errors.

The last load of towels is drying and the bedclothes are washing.

I have retired the trade station while Further Thoughts are Thunk.

I believe that I shall, as they say, Take The Rest of the Day Off. Perhaps I shall descend to The Studio and have a go at double-stringing my stars. After that, maybe I’ll make a big glass of iced tea and read a book.

Decadence, thy name is Rolanni.

The cats are distributed thusly — Tali is in the box on the corner of Steve’s desk; Firefly is in her Usual Position at the top of Mount Circular Logic, also in Steve’s office. Both are napping.

Rookie is curled up on top of the cedar chest in my office. He is — surprise! — napping.

They may be on to something.

What are you doing today?

Addendum: Sigh.

<complaint> I am getting Deeply Tired of the folks who are convinced that every piece of writing that’s come out since Steve died is a “wrap up,” or “the final.” We’re not at The Final yet, right? I’ll tell you when.</complaint>

Saturday morning

Saturday, dim and damp. First cup of tea — Russian Caravan, for those keeping track — to hand. Firefly is curled up in the comfy chair here in my office. Breakfast may be another cup of tea at the computer in Steve’s office.

Many thanks to the people who found Uncle Rusko’s given name. I wonder why everybody calls him Rusko? Maybe he doesn’t like Benin.

I last night finished reading Sourdough, which was fine until I got to the (what feels to me to be tacked on, and is probably the reason the writer wrote the book and the conceit that vaults it to brilliance, if only I were Clever Enough, which I so rarely am, and now we know why I write mere space opera) suitcase clone.

I also finished reading Dragon in Exile, which remains rough throughout, which leads me to wonder what was happening in 2014, when it would have been written. Possibly that was one of the years that Steve was in Baltimore on family business. Well. It gets the job done, though I guess I could have wished for a more attentive editor.

So! First cup of tea is gone. I am not feeling the breakfast love, so I do believe I’ll brew a second cup of tea and head for the writing desk.

What’s everybody doing today?

Steve Miller conversing with Ur Sid.  Trade Secret book tour 2013.  Photo by Christie Meierz.

Tools down

So apparently there’s an app that lets repair people know when you’re sitting down for lunch. Also, Rookie growled at the generator guy. Who is still working, having found a need to install a new battery.

Computers have been taken offline and the lights are out pending the “simulated power outage,” after which I suppose I will sign a paper and then Wander The House resetting all the clocks.
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End of the day. It’s raining. I am Utterly Frazzled. I don’t say I’m at the edge of an…Undesirable Head Space, but I can see it from here, and it ain’t pretty. The cats have pulled in, which is very good of them. Perhaps an early glass of wine, after I finish up here.

Anyhow, that’s 1,260 new words on the day, bringing the WIP entire to +/-16,220.

Tomorrow, I need to make those correx to Kin Right, and also name a couple characters in the current WIP. I’m … kind of impressed that we managed a short story and a book without giving Uncle Rusko a last name. I, mean, I like Rusko; he’s a good man, and he’s good for Tranh. He deserves a last name, amirite?

Before I sign off for the evening, and hoping for a better day tomorrow — have a snippet:
Bry Sen had a black eye.
Mac Gold had a broken arm.