Barbara Hambly's Blog, page 41

The best days are the ones where there's nothing really t...

The best days are the ones where there's nothing really to post about: I work, I drink tea, I take a walk. I do laundry.

I'll game a little in the evening and see if I can accomplish Part One's boss battle without getting killed four times and completely running myself out of gold trying to re-arm so I can go back and get my Really Good Armor off my corpse without getting killed Yet Again.

In the later evenings I've been stringing together and watching serieses that are familiar and restful: during the worst of last semester I worked my way all the way through Dr. Who, a couple of episodes at a time, starting in 1963. Just finished Lord of the Rings. Since I did P&P recently (the good version with Colin Firth) and Bleak House (an all-time fave - the Gillian Anderson version) I'll start on the Shakespeare collection (though as usual I'll skip Titus Andronicus. I have a copy, and it's a fascinating film, but... no, thanks).

Like Jan & Dean sang back in the '60s, "Summer means fun..." (Or was that the Beach Boys?)

When I’m doing First Draft, it’s incredibly d...

When I’m doing First Draft, it’s incredibly difficult to read new things: like the emotional equivalent of a fluttery stomach. I want something soothing – old Georgette Heyer Regencies I’ve re-read a dozen times, trashy French bodice-rippers that were a high school favorite, non-fiction of all sorts. At the moment I’m reading Mark Twain. Not his fiction (or his out-and-out fiction, anyway – I’m sure there’s a number of what he’d call “stretchers” passed off as autobiography here), but Roughing It and The Innocents Abroad.

And in the midst of all this, I have to be writing up lec...

And in the midst of all this, I have to be writing up lectures for World History, a new course I’ll be teaching in the Fall. (I get three classes, yay! To make up for the severe pruning of the class schedule that’s due in Spring.) Which means, I’m going to try to get most of Asher/Ysidro #4 in shape before the semester starts. But, the galleys are in – riddled with things I should have caught on the copy-edit, and would probably have caught if it hadn’t hit me during finals.

Screw the galleys. I'm gonna go have lunch with a friend.

Screw the galleys. I'm gonna go have lunch with a friend.

Reflecting reflectively upon further reflection....

Where do all those errors come from in galleys, that should have been caught in the copy-edit? Why didn’t I realize a month ago that I’d used “mayhem” four times in two paragraphs? Who am I talking about in that tangled forest of “he” and “his” on page 129? A proof-reader friend told me once, “Everybody misses 2%.” It’s why we need multiple proof-readers.

thumbnails

Sent off "thumbnail" sketches of 4 new projects - which seem to be all that were required, at least that's what the description sounded like. We'll see if they actually want worked-up outlines after all.

In the meantime, time to read like crazy on the galleys that are due!

Getting Out There

Getting Out there

            I joke about finding little yellow envelopes containing book ideas, lying on the sidewalk when I take my morning walk. But, in my experience at least, exercise is a critical factor of being a writer. The brain needs oxygen. After four hours at the computer, there’s not a lot of oxygen in my study.

            In childhood and high school I was a slug. I didn’t like to go outside because I felt so unsafe around people (school was a nightmare). “Exercise” meant “P.E. in school” which meant “teasing and bullying.” None for me, thanks. Then at around age 14 I acquired a couple of friends, and when we heard that the local fencing club was offering lessons at its meetings in the high school gym, we three thought, Hey, that sounds like fun! It was already in the back of my mind that if I was going to become a writer (my goal since the age of five) I’d probably better know what it was like to handle a sword, and ride a horse, and adventure-y stuff like that.

            I was a TERRIBLE fencer. All aggression, no technique, fat and clumsy, and the masks didn’t fit well over my glasses. Still, I learned the joy of combat sports, and learned more importantly that “activity” didn’t automatically involve a gaggle of cheerleaders laughing at me. I learned that there are single sports rather than the team-sports emphasized in high school PE (for financial reasons, I’m sure). Later on my friends and I took up horseback riding once a week – God knows how much money we spent at the stables up in Marshall Canyon. And when I was in grad school, I discovered the wonders of shotokan karate and all that went with that. (Drinking beer, breaking fingers, sweaty gis, pool-parties at Sensei’s house).

            So actually, though I still think of myself as a slug, I haven’t really been one since the Johnson administration.

            Currently I have neither the time nor the money to practice an organized sport. After I left karate (and lost weight) I danced – first ballet (until I screwed up my feet), then bellydance (until I started teaching; when I needed every quarter-hour of my time to keep up with writing). At the moment I take daily walks, since I have the good fortune to live in a neighborhood where that’s safe and possible. (I get really tired of hearing social theorists lament the fact that Americans don’t walk nearly as much as they should, when I recall neighborhoods where I’ve lived where it simply wasn’t safe to do so). I’ll usually walk for 30 minutes, or do 20 and then 20 on an elliptical trainer I bought used on Craig’s List for $125. Frequently I’ll do a 20 or 30 minute home-video workout later on in the day. Occasionally I’ll hike with a friend. I would REALLY like to get back into martial arts – aikido, now that I’m an aged gink – but martial arts is expensive. I do not swim.

            But it’s got to be something. I sleep better at night, and I’m a great believer in sleep as a component of writing (I’ll talk about that another time). Sometimes people will ask me, “What do you do when you’re stuck in writing?”

            And I’ll usually reply, “Take a walk.”

            And look for little yellow envelopes on the sidewalk.

Happy Birthday Sir Paul!

As another Paul sang, way back in the day: "How terribly strange to be seventy..."

But, on my way home on the freeway of all places I found another one of those little yellow envelopes with a book idea in it, so I'm pleased. Now another day of quietly putting together outlines, with much tea and encouragement from the cats. And then reading galleys until bedtime. Didn't I used to have hobbies?

Nibbled to death by ducks

A LONG morning of running necessary errands and doing small business - can I PLEASE get some actual work done now? But lunch first. I am ready to commit suicide or homicide, depending on who crosses my path.

yellow envelopes

I just LOVE it when I'm taking a walk in the morning, and a totally new idea for a book hits me - in this case, for another of the Asher/Ysidro series. An Oh, wow! Oh, YES, I never thought of that! feeling - like finding the stem of the outline in a yellow envelope on the sidewalk. (Occasionally, like waking up and finding the idea in a yellow envelope lying on my pillow). It's one of the things that keeps me faithfully taking morning walks.