Lilith Saintcrow's Blog, page 150

A Trundles Two-fer

He really is a very loving dog.

“THIS LOOKS LIKE FINE LITERATURE. I SHALL SNORE UPON IT.”

“IT IS TIME FOR SNUGGLES.”

Possibly Pickaxe

This morning we went from “everyone dies in a Vocaloid” to “how does one ‘casually’ pick up a pickaxe anyway?” (We were talking about Hetalia Russia. Well, the Princess was. I was listening.)

I love being a mother. There’s just no other job that compares.

Good morning! The last week of school proceeds apace. I’m reading Iron Coffins, about U-Boat warfare in WWII. I’ve seen Das Boot, of course, but something about Werner’s terse descriptions of just how manky, moldy, and sickening-smelling it became inside one of those submarines turns my stomach much more thoroughly.

I’m working on the Pliny Train, but since this week is the end of school and copyedits and serial and AUGH HAIR ON FIRE it might take a bit.It’s going to take years to get through Pliny at this rate, but I don’t mind. It will keep me blogging. At this rate, the internet will be corporate-controlled in every corner by the time I finish, but that’s probably the only thing that will stop me. We’ll see.

And now, the rest of the day must begin. I need caffeination. And quite possibly a pickaxe.

photo by:


Chalky Lives

At One’s Peril

Have reached the slog in the middle of the serial, where each day’s work feels like chipping tiny bits of dust away from a fossil. There are also copyedits for Kin to be Dealt With.

I should really do a post or two about retelling fairytales. Especially since Wayfarer is out now. The trilogy–the structure is a nod to Kieslowski’s Three Colors movies, too–is hands-down the most difficult series I’ve ever done. The emotional impact of those books for me is difficult to explain. was at once an act of protection for the vulnerable child I once was and a farewell. Whatever flaws the books have, they were tremendously healing for me to write–and tremendously difficult at the same time. One engages the deep engines of myth and Grimm at one’s peril. You never come out of a fairy tale really unscathed. Not if you’ve been paying attention.

Anyway, work calls. Onward to Track Changes and copyedits…

Booty Monday

I cannot stop listening to this.

If that doesn’t go goddamn viral, I shall be VERY DISAPPOINTED.

And of course it couldn’t be a Booty Monday without this.

Let’s also get a little Fette’s Vette in there, too…

Shake that thing, because hips don’t lie. Seriously, people who don’t get blown away by Shakira don’t know how difficult it is to do some of the isolated hip moves…

Happy Monday! Remember, every inch of you is perfect from the bottom to the top…

Saturday Flash Fiction

My writing partner‘s prompt: “…the knife girl.”

What it sparked:

It’s Susannah, but they called her the knife girl. Her act used to be the talk of the town—a spinning disk, she tossed the blades up, they glittered and hung in the air for a moment before falling and thocking into the disk. She danced with them, and danced on them, her toes en pointe on their quivering hilts.

But acrobats get older.

Now she has a different act. A quieter one. And really, she’d be the first to tell you, if you paid enough to ask her a question instead of just engaging her services, one she likes better. Nobody knows anatomy like an acrobat, and nobody knows pain as intimately. Her pinched, wan face only brightens when her target wakes from the chloroform stupor and she tells them one simple thing. She will ask a question, and the pain will stop when you answer.

Yes, the agony will stop. One way…or another.

Okay, fellow wordslingers. Your turn.

Mr Lincoln in the Garden

A Mr. Lincoln rose. Apparently I’ve decided to turn that side of the house into a rose garden.

It surprised me too. Guess I should look up how to prune the poor things.

Non-Ubiquitous

I took no pride in my solitude, but I was dependent on it. –Charles Bukowski, Factotum

I went mostly-dark yesterday. Every once in a while one just has to clean everything out, retreat inside. Do only the bare minimum of email-checking or popping online to get the news. I didn’t realize how much of my day had become a steady diet of What The Internet Has Going On, and it troubles me a little. The interwebs are not ubiquitous, though it feels like it when you’re on them. And I have to remind myself often that the platform costs of signing on (a desktop or a smartphone, a wi-fi connection, a cell phone plan) are things that require an investment. Even “free” wi-fi at a coffee shop requires an investment of time as well as petrol or bus fare to travel there. This is why I say the internet isn’t ubiquitous–those who don’t have the infrastructure advantage or the financial ability to invest in the hardware turn invisible. It’s one major reason why e-books “replacing” physical books isn’t going to happen either. (Not to mention that if the power goes out, the majority of my cheaply-acquired paper library is still usable.) Sherman Alexie noted this very thing ages ago when talking about the elitism of the Kindle:

Having grown up poor, I’m also highly aware that there’s always a massive technology gap between rich and poor kids. I haven’t yet heard what Amazon plans to do about this potential technology gap. And that’s a vital question considering that Bezos wants to change the way we read books. How does he plan to change the way that poor kids read books? How does he plan to make sure that poor kids have access to the technology? Poor kids all over the country don’t have access to current textbooks, so will they have access to Kindle? (Sherman Alexie)

The dogs, of course, were thrilled that I wanted to spend serious time on the floor with them, playing tug and doling out ear and chest skritches. Not a bad way to reset one’s brain.

Time to queue up the Conan the Barbarian soundtrack, get some more caffeine down, and get some more work done. Here, have the ways chemistry can save you during the zombie apocalypse, with a bonus of how a certain nasty little King choked out his last. You’re welcome.

Over and out.

photo by:


Helga Weber

Soundtrack Monday: NIGHT SHIFT

You guys have been so patient. Almost, dare I say it, Perry-patient. (You can’t see it, but I’m wearing an evil grin.) And before I get started, if you’ve written to me about Glocks and hammers, go here.

Night Shift was actually the second Kismet book I wrote–the first was Hunter’s Prayer, so NS was more of a prequel than anything. My editor wanted to know how Jill and Saul met, and I spent about ten minutes telling her about the Cenci case, and she finally sighed and said, “Look, Lili? Just write me that book.”

So I did.

Readers may find it interesting to note where Cenci’s name came from. Also, I had a series of Harp and Dom books in my head, but they never quite jelled. Harp never blamed Jill for Saul’s choice, she’s not like that…but Jill never knew. And that’s all I can say about that.

Enjoy!

Santa Luz, The Bad Old Lady The Road To Hell, Chris Rea

Out Of A Snowbank/Jill Kismet Trouble, Elvis Presley

Jill & Perry/Someday I’ll Kill You Angry Johnny, Poe

Billy Ironside Numbness For Sound, Howie Day

The City’s Pulse Ebla, E.S. Posthumus

Harp & Dom/We Have A Rogue Were Korben Dallas, Eric Serra

Burning Hellbreed Holes L.S.F (Lost Souls Forever) Kasabian

Cenci Fire Falling From The Sky, Paul Haslinger

My Teacher’s Dead Nothing At All, Rob Dougan

Personal Space Protection, Massive Attack

Navoshtay Niv Arkady Disease, Sister Machine Gun

What Saved Me Into the Ocean, Blue October

The Pyre The Kiss, Randy Edelman

Not The Only Man Who Gave A Damn Roll to Me, Del Amitri

I’m Here Now Come on Home, Indigo Girls

Book Haul

My recent book haul from Cover to Cover. They know what I like, and set stuff aside they think I might be interested in. Just one more reason local booksellers are incredibly awesome.

You can also just-see the copy of Allegiant they ordered for the Princess, and the Pokemon and science books they set aside for the Little Prince. The Princess finished Allegiant that same afternoon, and is still in shock. The ending is making her think very deeply about a lot of other stories.

Plus, she’s reading 1984 in school. The end of that one is gonna be a kicker for her as well, I can already tell…

Too Close To See

Revisions on the first Gallow book are back with the editor. It will probably need another pass, since I’m too close to the book to see it clearly. This is part of the reason editors are critical to quality control–no matter how good a writer you are, you’re still too close to the bloody book to see the holes and pitfalls properly.

Of course, there are revenge edits, where an editor savages your work to get back at you for a personal slight or something. Thankfully, those are far more rare than you’d think. In all my time writing I’ve only been revenge edited once or twice, and though it hurt, it was clear that it was egregious and I needed to pull on my big-gurl panties and JUST DEAL. When you consider the sheer number of editors I’ve worked with, this is fricking amazing. Ninety nine times out of a hundred, the editor’s right, and that hundredth time they’re probably right too, but I dig in my heels anyway. Revenge edits are incredibly rare, and it shouldn’t be the first thing you suspect when an edit makes you angry.

Which they inevitably will. It’s a natural law or something. Writing is an incredibly personal art, and having someone else edit it naturally feels like a judgment on you, when it’s not. Just one of many things about this career that will smash at one’s self-esteem.

The ankle is still tender, and I can’t run yet. Which is driving both Miss B and me to new heights of itchy irritation. Walking just doesn’t cut it anymore. Once more I have to go back to the beginning and steadily work up to 5K, not putting a huge amount of stress on the ankle until it’s fully recovered. As a lesson in patience, it’s good for me…but not terribly soothing.

Well. Back to the salt mines. A short story to revise, and some editing to do…

*wanders off muttering*

photo by:


Moyan_Brenn