Lilith Saintcrow's Blog, page 161

Tap-Dance Offstage

There’s a new chapter of Selene up today, the beginning of Part II. I’m also happy to report that when the serial finishes, there will be a Selene book, including the prequel and a bonus short story. I thought about doing an IndieGogo for it, but I’m not sure there’s enough interest.

Speaking of IndieGogo, it’s December, and the bigger SquirrelTerror perks are about to go out! The postcards will be out by the end of the week, keychains are on their way to me for distribution, and your paper copies of SquirrelTerror will be going out sometime next week. Those who get a signed copy of one of my other books should get their prize by the end of the month. Also, come the new year, the price on ebook SquirrelTerror will be going up a little, so if you want to get it at the introductory price, now’s a good time to do so at Smashwords or Amazon.

Today is full of revisions and other stuff, not to mention a run up Death Hill, so I’ll tap-dance offstage for now.

Over and out.

photo by:


mikebaird

I Like Being Divorced

This morning at breakfast the Princess told me about a list of “Reasons I Love Being Single” she saw somewhere on the wide, wide internet. (It involved eating popcorn out of a hoodie, which she has resolved to try as soon as possible.)

Then she asked, “Do you like being single?”

I never thought I’d hear one of my kids ask that. It was an exotic moment. What’s the appropriate way to express “profound gutclenching relief at the absence of one’s erstwhile marital partner” to one’s child? There’s a whole tangle of feelings there, ones she doesn’t need to hear me voice and ones she probably does. In the end, I just said, “Yeah, I like not having to shave my legs,” and left it at that. Maybe I shouldn’t have.

Anyway, yes, I do like being single. I like it a lot. I flat-out love being divorced.

* The living space is cleaner. Much, much cleaner. Somehow the Y chromosome seems to make it difficult for someone to toss their dirty clothes into a hamper. Actually, that’s not true, the Little Prince has been doing it since he was able to put his own pyjamas on at the end of the day. Maybe it’s some weird societal training males don’t get thoroughly inculcated. It’s not just clothes, either. My ex was like a toddler–when he lost interest in something, he dropped it and let it lay where it fell. This is okay when you’re two or three, but not so much when you’re forty. Especially when it includes fruit peels and bowls of rice. Ugh.

* The bed is all mine. Nobody stealing the covers. Nobody poking me in the middle of the night. No snoring–well, except for Odd Trundles, and his snoring has become proof that he’s still alive. Nobody waking me up if I manage to snatch a few hours of unconsciousness, because he has a great idea or needs desperately to talk about his feelings. When I’m awakened in the middle of the night now, it’s for a legitimate reason–like vomit, or screaming, or Odd’s sleep apnea. (That dog is BROKEN, OMG. Poor thing.) Of course, Miss B worms her way as close as she can and I end up hugging her most mornings, but she doesn’t steal the covers or kick me. I can live with that.

* I don’t gotta shave my legs. Funny thing, now that I don’t have to, I end up doing it more frequently, just because I feel like it. There, more than you ever wanted to know about my personal grooming habits. You’re welcome.

* Speaking of personal grooming… The bathrooms are SO MUCH CLEANER. Exponentially cleaner. Some of this may be because the kids are old enough to start contributing to chores…but a lot of it is also that they seem to have the trick of hitting the toilet bowl 99% of the time.

* No LOOKATMEs. You know that phase kids go through, where if you’re not looking at them, they fear they don’t exist, so they require constant attention? That phase where they’ll come up and breathe on you while you’re working just to get it? They eventually outgrow that…well, mine did. I’m still trying to figure out why so many people I’ve dated (male or female) haven’t. The LOOKATME LOOKATME LOOKATME will sigh loudly, fidget loudly, do anything they can to drag your attention off whatever you’re working on or involved in. I can understand the need to require a partner’s attention, I really can. But constantly having the LOOKATMEs, day in, day out, for years? Nope. Nope, nope nope. So glad to be free of that.

* Much less bullshit. I’ve dated a couple times since the divorce. It was nice enough for a while, but I find I’ve lost patience for that sort of thing. Of course, you could say that I’m at least half the problem, since I’m a difficult person. I’m okay with that. Throwing in the towel (especially after one of those dating relationships ended when I found out the person had been reading my diary, my God, REALLY? What are you, TWELVE? SO DONE WITH THIS) was liberating. No angst over when to call, if to call, no wondering, no contorting myself to fit around someone else’s issues. (Have too many of my own, sorry, kthxbai.)

* Wearing pyjamas all day. I don’t have to dress up to go to the grocery store or head out to a coffee date. I don’t even have to think “well, I should probably make an effort to get into real clothes just in case…” It’s yoga pants and tank tops all the time. Once the kids are at school, even yoga pants become optional. This is also a reason I love my job.

* Eating what I want. I’m not talking about stress-eating pints of Cherry Garcia. I’m talking about having garlic soup for a couple days if I feel like it. And consequently exuding allium byproducts without worrying about being offensive to someone’s tender nose. (The kids like garlic as much as I do.) Ah, freedom.

* No judging. No silent or not-so-silent judging of what I read, wear, watch, or what I don’t read, wear, watch.

* No days off. Of course, there are days when I wish someone else could pick a kid up from school, and if I get sick, too bad so sad, shit’s gotta get done no matter how awful I feel. Strange as it sounds, this is in the plus column, partly because it gives me a good reason to take care of myself. Mostly it’s a good thing because it was how things were while I was married, too; I just had one more person to take care of. When I realized that, as the person who the buck stopped on, I could arrange things to suit myself, things started getting a lot clearer for me.

There are more, but maybe I should just leave it at that. Suffice to say I’m happier, and I plan on staying that way.

Especially if there’s more garlic soup to be had.

photo by:


huntz

Back to the Grind

The tea experiment–long story, suffice to say we were puzzled by some medical issues and cutting back on caffeine was one of the things we thought might be an easy fix or at least helpful–is OVER. I was supposed to be on just enough tea to stave off caffeine withdrawal headaches for a full week, but it wasn’t working out and I went in early for some tests that will helpfully narrow down the problem more. Which is all to say THANK GOD I CAN DRINK COFFEE AGAIN. It was kind of ridiculous, because I was only drinking three shots of espresso in the morning and then nothing with caffeine for the rest of the day, but oh well. Never doing THAT again.

Anyway, the kids are back at school after Thanksgiving break. Today is all about revisions for Ruby, since I was a busy busy girl over the holiday. Not only did I take an UFYH challenge and smoke it (yay!), but I also edited and set up the remaining chapters of Selene and started making arrangements for putting the serial together with Brother’s Keeper and the followup short story Just Ask (where Selene and Nikolai meet again, and negotiate terms for their ongoing relationship) to make a complete book, which the lovely Skyla Dawn Cameron is putting together a cover for. It will be the only place you can get all three of them–the complete story–together. After the book has been published, the last two-thirds of the serial will be taken down, so just be advised about that.

Speaking of speaking, I have a call out for audiobook people who’d like to do SquirrelTerror. Since this particular book is short and already has a built-in fanbase for anything audio, I’m offering a royalty split. This is sort of a test case; if it goes well I might look into doing some collections or other books that don’t have a trad publisher behind them. Just testing the waters, you might say. So if you know anyone in the audiobook biz, if you wouldn’t mind passing that link along, it would be grand.

There is much to report on the book front (especially since I sent off a reasonable first draft of Iron Plague well before my self-chosen deadline) and the piano lessons front, and the book cataloguing front (I finished the grand cataloguing experiment, OMG), but it’s going to have to wait until I can turn in the next draft of Ruby.

Also, if you finished NaNoWriMo, I am extending my Hot Nano Deals editing discount until December 15. Note that the discount applies if you sign up before the deadline, no matter when I do the edits. I have two or three full-manuscript edit slots coming up at the end of December, so you might want to get in now, if you want my grubby editorial paws all over your novel.

That’s about all for today. It’s a Monday, so let’s buckle on our big boots and punch today in the nads, all right?

Right.

photo by:


h.koppdelaney

Tea, Day 3

I’m on Day 3 of tea in the mornings instead of coffee. This is going about as well as one would expect. I’m a little clumsy without my morning jolt, and I’ve noticed the 3pm slump is full of WAAAAY more typos. This will go on for about a week, after which I’m free to go back to the coffee if it turns out that wasn’t what was throwing my body out of whack. So yeah, big fun for everyone.

Anyway, a PSA: Alibris finally has a banner up about their database situation. Basically their inventory information tanked a week ago and no orders have been reaching the booksellers who list through them. This morning, there appears to be a funky workaround, but it’s dealing with backlog and other issues–and the inventory database is still not operational. So, if you’re ordering through Alibris for anything, just be aware.

Now, for a week there they were taking orders (which includes charging a credit card or at least putting a hold on it) and not telling customers that the orders weren’t getting through to sellers. This does not inspire me to confidence in the company as a whole. Still, it would be a shame if Alibris tanked, because Abebooks is owned by Amazon (since 2008 or thereabouts, I believe). So I’m hoping they can get their act together.

I finished revisions on Iron Plague and got it sent off to writing partner, agent, and an editor who threatened to hunt me down if I didn’t send it to her. (I think she was joking. Better safe than sorry, though.) I don’t expect it to sell–it was written solely to please myself–but I’m glad to have achieved what I set out to do. Which was finish the damn book and get it in reasonable first-draft shape. *waves a small pom pom* Yay.

Speaking of which, I’m still doing NaNoWriMo deals–I may extend the editing deal through the first half of December for those who want their NaNo novel looked at.

This week I go into revisions on the third Tale of Beauty & Madness–Ruby’s story. Little Red Riding Hood and her Woodsdowne clan. I should also look at proofs for the hardcover for The Quill & the Crow. Never a dull moment here at Chez Saintcrow.

Over and out.

photo by:


Dusty J

Tightrope

Every time I see these, I imagine gymnasts using them like uneven parallel bars. Or in zero gravity, making flying patterns through the wires and struts.

Fairy Tales, Under the Hood

Originally posted yesterday, at the Deadline Dames. Check us out!

When I was very young, I was given a battered hardback copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales from a garage sale. I think the person who bought it figured, hey, Disney, all girls love princesses and she loves to read, right?

What the giver did not realize–and what I never told anyone for fear of the book being taken away–was that it was an unexpurgated version. Heads and heels were cut off, Falada the horse spoke from the dead, people were burned to death, torn to pieces, made to dance in red-hot shoes. Heady stuff, especially for a seven-year-old.

It was great.

Later, when I watched the Disney versions, I would writhe internally with disdain, thinking of everything that had been left out. (Except for Maleficent. Maleficent was a badass. MALEFICENT SAID “HELL” IN A DISNEY MOVIE.)

Ahem.

So now, writing for a living, I find myself often returning to fairy tales. The old ones, with blood and gore and all their various cautions–don’t go out in the woods, don’t speak to strangers, be careful of people who are too kind at first. The other bit–that one should just suffer in patient silence–didn’t manage to sink in so thoroughly. (Even though Dickens tried to rub it in too.)

For a long while I didn’t feel ready to attempt a fairy tale retelling. I didn’t understand enough about how they worked under the surface. I probably still don’t, but I trust the Muse. Besides, one can only do so much research. Getting into the muck and the dirt, that’s where the real fun is.

So I started to think about fairy tales. I also returned to something I love very much, Kieslowski’s Trois Coleurs trilogy. Those interconnected movies simply blew me away, and spotting the different characters seen through the lens of other characters’ eyes is one of the best ways I know to spend an evening and a bottle of wine. I began to think about how fairytales shared the same dreamscape, where things happen because they must according to some weird logic that is not reality’s logic, but is nevertheless consistent and able to be anticipated while one is in that weird fugue-state of creativity.

I had some YAs due, and so the cauldron in my head was given another jolt of material: teenagers. One thing became another, and I found myself writing an homage to both Kieslowski’s masterpieces and the things I loved about fairy tales themselves.

First of all, Snow White. I’d had the beginning to her story in my head for quite some time, but I hadn’t felt capable of going back and plunging in. For one thing, Snow White is terribly passive. She doesn’t do things, they are done to her. (Of course Disney takes this to laughable lengths–if one laughs with a certain bitterness because of the misogyny our culture soaks itself in.) It was a challenge to write a character who chose to efface herself.

The other component to Snow White is the evil stepmother. When a mother is toxic, when she wants to consume you, when you are supposed to live out her unfulfilled fantasies and be at once parent and pliable child to her according to her whims…well, let’s just say I had demons to exorcise. Fairy tales will do that to you. You start working with them, just lightly brushing the surface, but the whirlpool will pull you in and shake you up. These stories survive because at their core, under so many layers of accreted grime and commercialism, there is a raw bloody truth. For a child, to be subsumed in this creature you are utterly dependent upon and terrified of at the same time is annihilation. Breaking the Queen’s mirror, finding your voice, is a lifetime’s work. (If you felt a jolt of recognition at this, I highly recommend this book.)

Then I had to start thinking about Cinderella. I had always known the next book was Ellie’s story, but what I wasn’t prepared for was the sheer depth of fear I felt writing it. The fact that I was juggling the book and a couple of Life Changes (namely, during the whole buying a house and recovery from the mortgage process thing) added together to make me even crazier. When I finally finished, I realized that the thing I really had wanted to express with Ellie was the fact that what you perceive as safety when you get out of a toxic situation might be, in fact, a different danger. What does Cinderella do when the fairy godmother has sharp teeth and an appetite? What happens when you think you have everything planned, and you find out all your plans are dust, and you’re worse off than you were before? How do you deal with being young, being essentially property, and depending on charity?

Yeah, you can see I went and exorcised another demon there, didn’t I. They’re not autobiographical in the slightest, but that’s the joy of writing–you can be nakedly vulnerable and safely behind a screen at the same time.

Fairy tales work, and keep working, because of that core of raw bloody truth. They are also shapechangers. Cinderella will not mean the same thing to me at 40 as she did at 30; that is a damn good thing. The stories are a magic mirror, and you see in them what you may be blind to otherwise.

I’ve finished Ruby’s story and it’s in revision now. When it comes out, maybe I’ll be ready to talk about what Little Red Riding Hood had to teach me, too. I’m still too close to the book to see what particular foul beast I was splashing holy water on. I’ll just leave you with this question, the one that began to possess me during the writing of the third book, wrapping the other two in its thorny embrace: what if Red is the wolf, too?

*pauses*

Sweet dreams, dear Reader. Catch you next time.

Samples and Practice

The piano lessons proceed apace. Daily practice is sometimes frustrating–for example, a simple adaptation of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik makes my brain cramp something fierce, and it’s taken me three days to get to the point where I can pick out a reasonable facsimile of it. Still, there’s progress, and I’m in the process of deciding with my teacher what my first real “work on it” piece should be. I’m tempted to just start at one end of The Well-Tempered Clavier and work through the whole damn thing. Idle hands, and all that.

The book cataloguing also proceeds well. Five bookcases left. Of course, it’s just the books that I couldn’t scan in with my phone as a barcode reader, which isn’t quite so bad. But (and this is a big drawback) two of those bookcases are my Tanith Lee collection and the occult section. Lots of editions without ISBNs, lots of weird little things. I suspect those two cases will take me longer than the whole rest of the downstairs library. On the bright side, I was surprised that most of my Eastern Front books could be scanned in.

I sent off sample chapters for a new YA/NA series yesterday. Normally I don’t do sample chapters, because things change so much between the initial idea for a series and its finished form. Unfortunately, though, the publisher insisted, despite everything. It was good practice, I guess, even though I was frustrated by a number of circumstances surrounding the damn thing. I also sent off a chunk of a romantic suspense book, because diversification is the name of the game. With that done, I can turn my attention to Iron Plague, get it revised into first-draft shape, and send it off before the end of November, which was my NaNo goal this year.

Speaking of NaNo, I’m still running editing deals. Signing up for my waiting list during November will get you the discount, even if I don’t do your edits until later.

That’s pretty much all the news that’s fit to print. I have a post due at the Deadline Dames later today, and I’m thinking about fairy tales. *puts on thinking cap*

Over and out.

photo by:


hillary the mammal

Stock, Emporium, and Chapters

Last night I tried this chicken stock recipe, waking up this morning to find the house smelling absolutely divine. The stock itself is cooling in the fridge, while the wings etc. are put away. Later today I’ll pick the wings for meat, and we’ll have chicken soup tonight. Which will be awesome, because I’m fighting off a cold–head full of cotton wool, body aching all over. No running today, which quite irritates me. But I’ll be even more irritated if I push myself and stupidly get sick.

Anyway, it was a busy weekend here! I tossed some new stuff into the Emporium:

More fun than an excited bulldog!

I finished copyedits on the third Bannon & Clare last week, so it was straight into Iron Plague revisions and some sample chapters for a sci-fi YA/NA sort of thing. I don’t normally do sample chapters, but in this case it’s a necessary evil. *shrugs* More to be said about that, but not now.

There was also a Habitat for Humanity dedication to attend–the Princess’s Math in Construction class last year built half a house, and another local high school’s class did the same. It was amazing to see what she’d spent all year working on, and meeting the family the house was built for was pretty amazing too. I asked the Princess what her favourite part about the building was, and she replied, “Sitting in the bathtub,” with a wide, cheeky grin.

I also managed to get the upstairs library catalogued. Including the stack of reference books next to my bed, and the TBR piles sitting on the coffee table and on the other side of my bed. (For those curious, I’m using Collectorz Books.) That makes just over a thousand books, which makes me a bit nervous about doing the downstairs library, which is a little larger. (Just a little. *headdesk*) An embarrassment of riches, indeed. Of course, I buy stuff for the kids first and books second, so I suppose it’s not surprising.

Today is for errands and finishing up said sample chapters,sending them and a few other things to the Fabulous Agent, and doing the chores I didn’t manage yesterday. (Like hoovering. Almost the bane of my existence laundry is…but not quite.) I’ll leave you with this fascinating piece on tattooing in 19th century British gaols. Enjoy!

Over and out.

photo by:


mamnaimie

Ferns

Part of my ongoing fascination with a bit of wasteland near the freeway. Life creeps into every crevice it can, a wonderful tenacious thing.

Squirrel, Resurrected

So the package Dina sent turned out to have a caffeine-crazed hitchhiker, and things got a little…well, weird.

He leapt for the table.

I HAVE SEMI-OPPOSABLE THUMBS!

*glug glug glug*

OHNO IT BURNS IT BURNS ARGH

EEEEEEEEEEEEE

He made a noise like Sam Kinison in a blender, and it seemed somehow…familiar.

Now powered by capsaicin AND caffeine, he bolted into the living room.

I CAN DO MATH. LOTS OF MATH.

Leaping to the floor, he came face to face with the dogs, who had ambled in to see what the ruckus was.

*snortwhistle* What is it? What is it? Is it a new friend?

Miss B just looked thoughtful.

I…I think I’ve herded it before…

“THAT’S IT!” I yelled, and for once I was quicker than a squirrel. I grabbed him, and the dogs looked disappointed. “You. You’re going somewhere to calm down–”

WAIT. I THINK…YOU’RE JUST SO DAMN FAMILIAR. MAYBE IT’S THE HOT CRAZEBERRIES…

“Oh Jesus,” I breathed. “Your eye.”

I CAN SEE JUST FINE, MONKEY.

BUT NOT OUT OF THIS ONE. BORN THAT WAY.

“Holy Christ on a cracker.” I almost dropped him. “Neo?”

“WHY DOES EVERYONE CALL ME THAT? MY NAME’S NED. SHORT FOR ZOLTAR.”

“Of course it is.” I was already heading for the back door. “And you’re going outside.”

“BUT IT’S COLD OUT THERE!”

“How would you know? You’ve been in a box for a week.”

“I’LL BE GOOD! I’M AGORAPHOBIC!”

“No squirrels allowed in here. Go down the stairs, knock on the glass door, and tell the two idiots who live there you’re their new roommate.”

“I CAN’T LIVE WITH OTHER RODENTS! I’VE GOT ISSUES–I’M A GERMOPHOBE!”

“Then you shouldn’t have been in my kitchen.” I tore the back door open. “Hey. Do you know kung fu?”

“WHAT? NO! I’M ASTHMATIC, MONKEY, BE REASONA–”

“Good.” And I heaved him outside. Fred and George could deal with it, if he got past Willard. I know, I’m a horrible human being. But no more squirrels in the house.

Unfortunately, about a week later, some-damn-thing-else happened, but that’s (say it with me) another blog post…