Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 103

Traveling Plans

Okay-- so last year was a FLURRY of traveling.  I think I listed all of the places in my Christmas letter, and in addition to San Diego--three times--and San Francisco--twice--there was also Dallas, Florida, and New York.

Oi!

This year, not so much.

If ALA is in San Francisco again, I may go sign books there--and I'll definitely be attending Yaoi-Con there in the fall.

But other than that?

Right now my plans are simple:

Coastal Magic--Daytona Beach, February 4-7 

Romantic Times-- Las Vegas, April 12-17

RWA--San Diego, July 13-16

And that's pretty much all.

My reasons for cutting back are, well,

A. Financial--Last year was insane and our coffers need to recoup.

B. Work based-- 260,000 of the words I wrote in 2015 are being released in 2017. If I need to feed the family-and pay our taxes!--I need to actually write--which is hard and stressful to do on the road.

C. Emotional

I love travel--and I'm getting decent at it.  But by the end of GRL last year, I got home and... slept. And cried. And slept. I didn't feel myself until the end of November, which was right before Christmas.

My kids need more of me than this--so it's my job to provide.

But of course, the upside is that I get to write more books, and the sequel to Lollipop  (Licorice Whip) is more than halfway complete.  In the meantime, Lollipop is out on Monday--and yeah. Getting excited.

You can pre-buy it at ARe, Amazon, and DSP-- and some reviews are popping up on GR. 

So far? People agree that it's pretty damned sweet :-)

Dogs in the Corner

Me: Geoffie! Johnnie!  You're driving me crazy! What do you have to say for yourselves?

Geoffie:  But... but there was NO WALKIES!

Me: There was SOME walkies--

Johnnie: There was TOO MANY walkies!

Me: It was a quarter of a mile, Johnnie.

Johnnie: Magic sky water. Did you forget the magic sky water? You went INTO THE DELUGE of magic sky water, and the house was RIGHT THERE? I was all, "What're you doing, mom, the house is RIGHT THERE!" but no, you had to walk into the magic sky water.

Me: You needed a walk.

Johnnie: It made the poop go back up.

Me: That's not what the bottom of my shoes say!

Johnnie: I kept it in just for them. See? Saved you a step.

Me: You're very smart.  Geoffie!

Geoffie: Snacks?

Me: No.

Geoffie: SNACKS!

Me: Really?

Geoffie: There were NO butt cookies-- gimme snacks.

Me: Fine.

Geoffie: Snacks?

Me: Fine.

Geoffie: Snacks?

Me: This is your last one.

Geoffie: Snacks? Snacks? Snacks? Snacks? Snacks?

Me: NO! Man, knock it off-- go to your corner.

Geoffie: Corner? Where corner? Wait! Watch me do--

Me: No no no no--

Geoffie: But he makes the best--

Me: No no no no no--

Dogs: Rawr bite yip run twirl

Me: Assholes!

Dogs: Rawr bite yip run twirl

Me: Assholes!

Dogs: Rawr bite yip run twirl

Me: ASSHOLES! STOP IT!  Now apologize.

Johnnie: I'm sorry, i should be dead.

Me: No, no-- not like that. Just tell Geoffie you're sorry.

Johnnie: I'm sorry I threw you into the wall, but you shouldn't have bit my penis.

Me: Geoffie, did you hear that?

Geoffie: Did you hear? Did you hear the sound he made when I bit his penis?

Me: I don't want to talk about--

Geoffie: It was like Snoopy getting tagged in the BALLS, man! Snoopy! Balls! Auuuuughhhh!!! It was GREAT! I'm going to bite his penis again!

Me: NO!

Geoffie: Hold me!

Me: No!

Geoffie: Walkies?

Me: It's eleven at night.

Geoffie: Walkies?

Johnnie: Walkies?

Me: Magic sky water, assholes, remember?

Geoffie: Want me to bite your penis again, Jonnie?

Johnnie: Yeah, sure, that was fun!

Dogs: rawr bite yip twirl

Me: *sigh* I'm so glad it's raining again, but tomorrow, we get walkies, and that is a good thing too...

Change? We Fear Change!

Thanks, M/M Romance Group!




(Although it is going to tickle me to be the winner of an award for Best Sex Industry books for a very long time. It might even help to make me a cooler mom-- you never know ;-)

Anyway...

Mate did a very nice thing for me today.  He moved my office from the kitchen table to the computer desk in the corner of the living room, and on the one hand, yayayayay!  I am not LOOKING AT THE FRIDGE when I'm bored!

On the other hand... Change? I fear change.

The kitchen table is still a mess though, and I am gradually schlepping things I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT to my new digs. It's... a transition.

Mate and I are not generally good with transitions.

We dislike them. We grow feral, surrounding ourselves with clothes that don't fit, shoes we don't wear, bills we have paid but don't want to get rid of...

We fear change.

But, yanno?

I have a desk. That's not in the kitchen. Maybe I can clear out some of the yarn boxes and the books... and, you know. Maybe, put my office equipment here.

Little change.

Incremental changes.

Change can be good.

But first I need to do something about this back corner--because instead of the refrigerator, I'm staring at the great beyond, and that's no bueno.

But... I can change it.  Right? Can I change it?

*contemplates change*

A Pinch of This or That

1.  ZoomBoy had a soccer game today-- they tied, 4-4, but the best moment by far was watching Mate when they were down 3-0.  He buried his face in his arms and wished for teleportation-- I could tell, and I was across the arena.  He popped up though, and the boys rallied, but he doesn't often show despair. I was charmed.

2.  The dogs and I rambled for a mile and a quarter, and yet, at eleven o'clock at night, they were all-systems go and "LET'S GET READY TO RUMMMMMMMBLLLLLLLLEEE!!!!"  I have a clear image of Geoffie hauling ass down the hallway, riding the rug to slam into the wall, and then tumbling back to haul ass back into the living room, tongue flying behind her, so she could body tackle her nemesis, Jonnie. Now, Mary-my-Mary has actually HEARD the noises Jonnie makes when they're fighting. He sounds like a Peanuts character getting kneed in the groin. I have no other way to describe it. On the whole? It's high hilarity--but the kids have learned to fall asleep to the soothing strains of small-dog WWF cage matches in the living room. Bodes well for life in the dorms.

3.  TOMORROW IS A DAY OFF!  I asked Mate if he wants to A. Go to the movies or B. Clean out the garage.  I have the feeling that at around 1:00 pm, it's going to be C. Get the hell off the couch, for anything, dammit, anything, let's just not sit around here again!

4. The M/M group on GR announced their yearly awards today, and I won some incidentals, but Mary-my-Mary KICKED ASS with a Hall-of-Fame victory, and Rhys Ford did CONSIDERABLY well for herself, and seriously, I'm just going to park my weak ass next to them and bask in their glow. *pulls up a chair*  C'mon, bask with me. They won't mind. They're such awesome people, they'll share all the glow they got.

5.  My dad came to watch ZB play, and he sat next to me as I was sitting next to the soccer mom mafia, and he must have felt a little intimidated, because he was very well behaved and didn't try to provoke me at all. It wasn't until we got outside and I pointed to the Supernatural medallion (the one they use to ward off possession) on the back of the minivan (to ward off repossession.) Now, I put stuff on the back of my minivans mostly for identification, because we buy standard vehicles and it makes them easier to spot in parking lots. Of course, the last minivan got pretty political by the end ----if anyone remembers the post where the guy I accidentally cut off stuck his head out of the passenger's side of his van and screamed "YOU FUCKING CUNT OBAMA IS A FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!"  as we drove side by side down the street.  Also, post-its on my windshield. Also, my parents yelling at me for supporting Obamacare.  Even when it proved to be a success.  So, Mate, not wanting his children to be endangered by our liberalism in this fucking GOP conservative redneck cesspool, asked for me to keep our politics off the back of the vehicle. The SPN medallion is it, and it playfully points to us as pagans and liberals, but only to people who also watch the show.

  But my dad, wishing to jerk my chain, saw the sticker and said, "I'm going to get a bumper sticker that says 'Nuke Syria.'"

"Bad daddy!"

"No! It's going to say, 'Nuke the entire Middle-East!'"

"ZoomBoy, everything your grandfather says about politics is bad. All of it. Pure bullshit. Listen to Comedy Central before you listen to grandpa."

My dad cackled like he'd done his job, but my kid is no fool.  He's going to watch Chris Hardwick and Trevor Noah tomorrow and realize that grandpa is a crazy old coot, and I am going to get the last laugh.

Until I have grandchildren of my own, of course--if my parents' generation doesn't kill us all before that!

Redirecting the Blast-- A Racing for the Sun Ficlet

So, the trip to Reno was lovely, thank you. We ate a very expensive meal (but we actually brought the leftovers home on the train and had them for dinner, so maybe it was only a mildly expensive pair of meals ;-) and enjoyed the snow. As I posted on Twitter, I was highly amused when, as the train passed over Donner Lake, the conductor told us over the intercom that the settlers of the Donner Party experienced "great tribulations" over a rough winter.  Anyone who's been raised in California or Nevada is aware that "great tribulations" is code for "ate each other"-- understatement is our friend. 

Anyway--- so, speaking of understatement, I revisit one of my favorite laconic heroes today: Jasper Anderson Atchison.  People call him Ace.

*  *  *
-- Racing for the Sun Ficlet

There's things you have to remember about living with a ticking time bomb.

Thing the first-- just cause you can't hear it ticking doesn't mean the mechanism ain't a "go".

Thing the second-- just cause the bomb will probably not go off when you're in the room don't mean you won't get hurt.

Thing the third-- it's possible to control the blast.

Or so I hoped. Cause the kid holding the gun at Alma's head was looking scared and shaky--and Sonny was looking like a dirty bomb.

The day had started out okay-- since them doings in Bakersfield a year ago, Sonny and I been laying' low. As soon as he got out of the hospital, we came back to our little gas station in Victoriana and continued doing what we'd been doing before--making a life. I still drove the souped up Ford, but we only topped 150 out in the dessert, Sonny by my side, as the purple shadows lowered.  No more racing, like I promised him, and the money from my last... adventure... had kept us going until we made enough business to keep us in the black.

It also provided enough money for a college fund for Alma, our part time help. Since she'd stopped wearing tight titty blouses and a truckload of makeup, she'd decided she was gonna be a good girl. I was looking for words to tell her that someday, right time, right people, she could wear whatever she goddammed pleased, but for right now, "good girl" meant schooling, and Sonny and me were all for that. So was Jai, our giant gay Russian enforcer who would have stayed with us for minimum wage, but was now fiercely loyal since we paid him enough to drive to Vegas once in a while to get laid.

Jai was very protective of Sonny and Alma.  Once he figured out that I killed the guy that hurt Sonny, I had the feeling he would have blown me every day and polished my rim to boot, except that would have meant me cheating on Sonny, and, well, that left him in something of a quandary. Let's just say Jai woulda done unspeakable things for the three of us and leave it at that.

Well, I wished I coulda left it at that.

Sonny and Jai were under a Ford F150 in the auto bay, dicking around with a transmission that should have been shot, burned, and buried about ten years before, and I was going over the ordering with Alma.

She squinted through the small service window at their feet sticking out under the truck and listened to their bickering. Sonny spoke redneck and Jai spoke redneck with a thick Russian accent and they were both talking about car parts using pet names developed over nearly a year and a half of working together.

"That don't sound like English," Alma said after a moment or two of us just staring at them and listening.

"They're gonna ship one of those guys who invent space languages out here to figure out what the fuck that is," I agreed. "Think they'll give us money?"

Alma rolled her eyes. "They don't pay dumbshits for being stupid," she said.  "But I need my mommy not to come hear them. She'll think that stuff I do at school, I'm doing it wrong."

At that moment a dying Kia Sportage came chugging into the lot, blowing black smoke and rattling loud enough to echo off the distant mountains.  As Alma and I stared--and Sonny and Jai shoved out from under the truck in the bay, a thin kid got out wearing a black hoodie, black track pants, and black tennishoes in the 110 degree heat.

I stared. The last time I'd worn an outfit like that, I'd killed a man.

The kid was holding a hand to his side and blood was dripping down to the white foam tread of his trainer, and I figured this kid was not that far off from that level of desperate.

"Get down," I said to Alma.

"But--"

"Just get down under the counter, I don't want him seeing you!" Because she was a girl, and desperate men preyed on the weak.  She wasn't weak, but he didn't know that.

"I need someone out here!" the kid shouted. "Someone get out here and fix my fuckin' car!"

I shot a look behind me to the auto bay and shook my head at Jai and Sonny to let me take care of this. Sad, yes, but true--I really am their best bet in a crisis.  My hands at my sides, palms out, my eyes level, movements steady, I took a few steps out of the cashier's cubicle and then out into the searing desert sun.

"I see you," I said calmly. "And I see your car. And you're both banged up some.  Honestly, I think some bandages and antiseptic, you got a better chance than the car."

The kid swallowed and looked desperately behind him, like he was expecting retribution to be riding down his ass with cherry lights on top. "I... I can't do hospitals," he said, voice weepy. "And... and I gotta get this money to a friend..."  His voice cracked. "She's..."  He reached behind him and pulled out the gun I'd just known had been tucked in the back of his pants. "It doesn't matter, man. Just fix the goddamned car!"

"Okay," I said, hands still out. "But I'm going to have to drive it into the bay. Do you want to sit next to me while I do that or--"

"Wait--who was that?"

I didn't look. "Who was what?"

"That girl-- yeah, you go ahead and drive the car into the bay, I'll be right there with the gun pointed at that girl!"

"There is no girl," I said in my strongest voice, because maybe Alma would get the fuck back down and I could have driven the car to San Diego and crashed it into the police station which was my plan.

The shot went wide--as he'd meant it to--but still. The weapon discharged into the desert to my left, and it doesn't matter how many times you hear them or how many times you fire them, a gun report should do something to a man, or he's forgotten why he's alive.

"Move the fuckin' car!" he yelled, and then, never turning his back to me with that gun, he edged himself alongside the cashier's cubicle and into the door I'd just come out of. Alma was standing by that time, her hands up, mouthing, "I'm sorry, Ace" at me like that was gonna help if she got her brains blown to kingdom come.

I moved the car, making the assessment as it rattled into the bay. Blown gasket, blown pistons, hole in the radiator, transmission fluid a fuckin' memory. This thing should not have been running.

It gave it's last gasp as I pulled up to the bay and I coasted it in next to the truck and waited for Sonny and Jai to poke themselves back from under the truck. Smart boys.

"He's got a gun," Sonny muttered. "In there with Alma!"

"Jai, go fetch Sonny's car, okay?"

"What?"

"What in the--"

I held up my hand.  "He's hurt and he's desperate," I said levelly. "We're going to give him transportation and let him get the fuck out of here.  Odds are good, he's going to pass out in twenty minutes anyway, and if he's not here, he can't hurt us."

"But someone on the road--" Sonny said, and my heart warmed. These last two years, he'd grown a little. Part of that growing meant he didn't just look at me, or even just Alma and Jai.  He looked a little bigger now.

But we couldn't.

"Look-- just get him the car. Maybe I can get rid of the gun and we can get him to the hospital or something, but first, let's get him out of there with Alma!"

BAM!

If I hadn't just taken my morning constitutional, I swear it would have been in my shorts.  But I saw the sun shining through the hole in the auto bay, and realized he'd fired over our heads.

"What're you doing'!" he screamed, and I glared at Jai to go do what I said, then turned and approached the cashier's cubicle, palms out.

"You're car's done for," I told him. "We're getting you one that runs."

"What?"  I took a few more steps so I could see them.  He had his arm around Alma's shoulders, and she was holding onto his wrist and glaring at him. I suspected that if he pointed the gun anywhere but her one more time, he was going to be bleeding a damned sight more than he already was.

"Your car--last time I saw something like that, it took us a month and special parts flown in. It's fuckin' toast. We're getting you my boyfriend's car, so you can get the fuck out of our lives."

His face crumpled. "But that would be stealing," he said nakedly. "I'm no thief."

"What in the fuck did he just say?"

Oh God-- Sonny was right behind me, and I stepped to the right in an attempt to block him.

"Who's that?" the kid asked in tears. "What does he want?"

"You're not a thief?  You come in here and hold a gun to a sixteen year old kid, and you think you're some kind of a hero?"

Oh God.

"That," I said distinctly, "is my boyfriend, who's about to give up his car so you can get your gun away from our friend."

"I just need a fuckin' car!" the kid cried. "Man, they got my sister, and I had to run the drugs to Vegas and then get back with the money, but the guys in Vegas had guns, and they started shooting and the guys in Chula Vista got my sister and--"  He let out a little whimper then, and the arm with the gun fell.

Alma put one fist in the other and elbowed him right in the chest and that was when the gun went off. I felt a ripping pain through my leg but that didn't stop me from grabbing Sonny as he went hauling into the tiny cubicle with nothing but a tire iron in his hand. He caught me in the head with his upward swing and that did it.  I went down and didn't wake up for twenty minutes.

"Ace?"

I was lying on my back in our little house, with a familiar weight on my chest and a small tongue licking my cheek.  "Duke?" I said, confused. The Chihuahua didn't usually talk.

"No, dammit, it's me."

I looked up at Sonny who was sitting, red eyed and repentant, on the floor next to the couch.

"Where's Alma?"

"She's fine. We closed up shop and her mom came and got her. She'll be back in tomorrow."

My head ached fiercely and I stared at him. "She'll be what?"

"Was really sweet. Kept thanking us for trying to save her. Said it was real nice how we gave up my car to make sure she was okay."

I was not tracking. "The kid...?" God. Poor kid. Desperation did not make people do nice things--but he'd appalled by the realization that he was holding a gun to a young girl. Probably hadn't thought of her as a person before that. Of course, if he'd hurt Alma, or Sonny, I would have beaten his brains to powder and not given a shit.

"Jai wrapped his side--through and through, so, he should be fine if he gets antibiotics. Then he put the kid and the drugs into my car and took off."

I  tried to process this. "Took... off?  In your car?"

Sonny nodded soberly. "I think... Ace, I think as long as the kid and his sister are okay, we'd better not ask too much about what happens after that, okay?"

Oh Lord. This wrong side of the law thing got murky.  "The kid's going to be okay?"

"Yeah. You went down and he thought he'd shot you, and he just fell apart. Dropped the gun, cried.  I got you into the house and checked your leg--it was a graze, by the way."  As he said it, I could feel the stinging pain of it. Hurt-- like a sumbitch too--but not as much as my head.

"Jesus, you really clocked me," I mumbled.

Sonny nodded. "I did." He put a bag of ice on my temple where the tire-iron had caught me hardest, and the cold woke me up.  "You need to stay awake, now that you're up. I looked shit up on the computer--we've got some Tylenol with Codeine, and you can have that as soon as you sit up."

I struggled up, holding the ice compress to my head with one hand and moving Duke to my lap with the other.  "Oh dear God," I muttered. "This hurts. I remember this--this is no good."

"Yeah."  Sonny let out a breath and thrust two tablets into my hand and followed it up with water. I felt better after I drank the water, even, and figured once the pain killers kicked in, I might be okay.  For a moment, I was quiet, and the only sounds in our little house were my breathing and Duke's little dog whimpers as he relocated.

"I'm sorry," Sonny said quietly. He'd climbed up on the couch when I hadn't been paying attention, and I lifted my arm so he could put his head on my shoulder. His blond hair had grown shaggy in recent months, and I liked it that way. He didn't look vulnerable or naked like he had when it had been shaved down to his scalp.

"Was an accident," I said.

"Yeah, but the coming unglued part wasn't. That was me just being me," he said bitterly. "You had that kid calming down, and I just... you and Alma and the fucking gun and I lost it."

I laughed a little. "Yeah, but you've lost it worse."  He had. He wasn't great with people--never would be. "And you were afraid for Alma, and you didn't used to give a shit."

"But not for a long time," he reminded me soberly.

"Yeah. I know. But makes me proud still. You were doing what I was doing, Sonny. Your best for your people."

He sighed again. "I... I just gotta think better, you know?"

"Well, I put myself in the damned booth. I just thought... you know..."

"If we gave him the car he'd go the fuck away?"

"Well, yeah."  Because cause and effect, right?

"Well it worked. He went the fuck away."  And right before I was going to ask about Jai, his phone buzzed.  He reached into his pocket and pulled it out and grunted.  "Jai's fine," he said. "Took the kid to the hospital."  The phone pinged.  "And I need to call the police and report my car stolen."

My eyes widened, sore head or not.  "Here," I said, flailing for my coveralls on the floor next to the couch.  "Let me use my phone."

I spun a story, oh yes I did. How the thief shot at me and missed then whacked me on the head, and how we'd had the keys in Sonny's little beater Corolla so we could move it around easy, and Sonny found me after he got back from the AM/PM across the street with sodas and took me inside to treat me.

The cops took it down, every word, the wound on my head and my leg to verify, and the car was registered all legal like.  The local cops took down the info and grunted, and asked me if I wanted to go to the doctors, but I wasn't excited about that, so they left me alone.

As soon as they were gone I collapsed on the couch and called Alma.

"Alma?"

"Mr. Ace?"

"You didn't work today."

"I'll tell mommy.  Do I work tomorrow?"

"Do you still want to?"  Because Jesus. 

"You gave up your car for me. I think Jai's killing people. I'm safe there. It's good."

She hung up and I had to give the girl credit for practicality. I was a two term veteran and I didn't think I could have been so casual.

Sonny had kicked up the air conditioning in the house, and the sun was starting to go down by the time it was all done, and I was fine with sitting around in my boxers and letting television wash over me like the sea.  Sonny was fine with feeding me and making sure I didn't puke and petting me every now and then too.

Into that quiet, Sonny said, "So, where do you think Jai's gonna hide the bodies?"

I grunted. "Sonny, that has got to be a question we never, ever ask him, okay?"

Sonny nodded soberly, but his lips were twisted up. "He said he got the girl away from the bad guys.  Think he's like a super hero?"

"Dead Pool or the Punisher?"  Because hadn't those guys been sort of dark and below the law?

"Yeah!" Sonny said, eyes big. "We know Dead Pool!"

I didn't remind him that I'd been the Punisher a year and a half ago and that it wasn't that glamorous.  Then he said, "But I don't care how many bodies he's buried, he's still not half the hero you are, for trying not to let things go south."  He kissed my cheek then and I closed my eyes tiredly.  So, okay. There was still blood and still crime, and still shit we did not plan on, but at least Sonny appreciated trying not to kill people. And hey--I'd been out for twenty minutes, and he'd apparently kept his cool.

I was calling it a win.

But I was going to have to be really careful about not dying until I was sure he'd take that as well as he'd take knocking me on my ass for twenty minutes. You just never knew.

Score-- Boychildren 0, Girlchildren 2

And, ladies and gentlemen, today's game went as follows...

*  This morning, as I was working, Big T came in. Now, granted he's a bit stoned these days because he had to get his gum grafted to his gum (and OUCH!) so, he talked to me and I told him I was busy and he talked and I told him, "You know, doing the dishes doesn't count as heavy lifting!"

"Have you given any thought to converting to paper plates?"

"NO! I already feel horrible about the amount of takeout we actually eat. Paper plates are bad for the environment!"

"Well so is washing dishes!"

"Well deforestation is causing the drought. I'm not going to destroy any more trees because you're feeling lazy!"

"Bite me."

He wandered out.

And there you go, children, don't expect mommy not to be a big fat bitch if you get up in her grill when she's working.

*  After school, ZB had a tearful confession about a missing book report and blown off homework and how he was unworthy. I told him to go to his room and write a list of five things he needs to do in order to not disappoint us or himself this semester.

Number one on the list was "Not lie about having homework done."

*dark cloud of wrath forming as mommy makes plots happen*

Amen to that.

*  Squish got home, sat down, did her homework, and packed for tomorrow's night at grandma's like a champion.

*  Chicken texted me a picture of her cat hugging her arm as the asshole cat fell asleep.

Clearly, the girls are winning and the boys really have to step of their game.

So-- going to Reno with my beloved Mate on the train tomorrow. It's a gift from my parents (and when they do things like this I resolve to whine about my parents no more forever) for Christmas.  So, there shall probably be fanfic Saturday in the early Sunday morning--but don't despair, there WILL be some sort of fanfic.

I am, as always, open to bribery, suggestions, gifs, comics, and flattery.

Let the games begin!

5 Unrelated Things With Pictures

1. This is still not enough coffee. Now you know.











 2. Fans are the bestest. This is what happens when Mary Calmes starts a debate over who's more of a douche--Scott from Johnnies or Robbie from Candy Man. And then the words "code black angst" are thrown around. Yes. Mary-- I blame you. 













3.  I posted this on Twitter several weeks ago. It still doesn't inspire me to want seafood--and, in fact, I have a burning urge to see Independence Day 2, so I know those things have been conquered once and for all. 













4. The King's Game. Or, as those of us who love the Kings, hate losing, and have read my books call it: Waiting for Karcek.















5. I'm making some worsted weight socks with cables. I love them--but they're made for a size medium foot. I'm pretty sure the person they're for will guess before they show up in the mail, but we'll have to see. 

Coming Soon

I do this sometimes on my FB group, Amy Lane's Anonymous, but that's not really easy to recall and look at again and again and again.

I have reorganized my queue-- and what this means to you is that I'll be working on certain things because I've established a rhythm, and that certain other things are going to come out because they're almost done.

I told a friend that I finished 260,000 words in 2015 that aren't going to be published until 2017--and while that's great for 2017, it might make this year look like I totally slacked, which is totally not the case. So I'm going to give you a list--complete with links if I have 'em, covers, or related covers if I have them, so you can see what's coming.

1.  Lollipop, sequel to Candy Man and Bitter Taffy, out on January 25th, and available for presale at Amazon, DSP, and ARe.


2. Selfie, part of the BlueWater Bay collection, is out on April 18th, and available for presale from Riptide.


3.  The Green's Hill Novellas which have already been published as individual stories (Litha's Constant Whim, Guarding the Vampire's Ghost, and I Love You, Asshole) which are going to be released as a collection in June.


4.  Fish Out of Water--Completed, Amy does the action/adventure buddy investigation thing, and that's going to be out (tentatively ) on July 4th.


5.  Licorice Whip-- In Progress, the FINAL book in the Candy Man series, which, if I can hit a deadline, should be out in September.

6. Rampant Part 1--The refurbished Little Goddess Book 4, part one, out on October 11th.

7. Summer Club-- sequel to Winter Ball -- THIS is a VERY tentative release date, because I have two books to finish before I get to it!!!!   But, if I"m on my game, this will be out in early November.

8.  Rampant Part 2-- Should be out on November 12th

9. Freckles-- this is due March 10th, which means I need to finish Licorice Whip and get on it!  But it's a novella and part of Riptide's Christmas bundle, and I do love writing Christmas stories.

10.  Geezers in Love -- Okay-- that's a working title, but this would be my Christmas story for DSP, and it would be out in mid December, and again, that's if I get my ass in gear and write like I'm supposed to.

11.  The Virgin Manny-- 1/1/17  This story is already written-- I called it Tamale Boy and the Spoiled Brat, but we renamed it, because in 2016 and 2017 I'm going to write two more of these--Manny Get Your Guy and Stand by Your Manny, and that's going to be fun. These are Dreamspun Desires, people. Doesn't get much more lighthearted and code yellow than this!

12.  I'm not going to commit to this one HERE, but in my queue it says the fifth Johnnies is due out in  February, 2017.

13 & 14.  I am going to commit to this one, because the book has been written for nearly a year. Quickening, parts 1 and 2, will be out in May and July of 2017.

And now you know.

When Squish Rules the World

"See, mommy? It's a Christmas packet." *grumbles*  "It's the same one we did last year."

"That's nice hon-- you got them all right..."  *winces*  "Of course you did."

"Yeah, but this year they had a thing about Christmas symbols. I talked about the snowman, which wasn't really a symbol of  Christmas, but just of winter holidays, and how it makes us happy about the snow and snowball fights and hot chocolate."

"That's a good symbol."

"Even though we don't have snow."

"No we don't."

"And not just because of global warming-- we just don't have any here-- that's what you said, right?"

"Yup. No snow in Sacramento-- not for forty years."

"That's sad.  But anyway, see here?  We were supposed to write a story about what life would be like for someone who didn't celebrate Christmas. So I wrote about Sally, who celebrated Hanukah, and liked the Christmas lights, like we do, and liked the hot chocolate, and then went home and opened her eight presents, one every day, and played with her dreidel."

"That's really good, hon. Cause, you know, there's Hanukah songs too."

"Yeah! And they're really pretty. And we sang them too with choir. And some songs just about winter, too."

"Yeah-- they were all pretty."

"I like that we do more than one holiday. There's lots of people who do different stuff. That's really interesting."

"It is, Squishy-- you just keep being interested."

"Okay. I'm going to go read Ultraviolet now, where they have really bright hair color and Opaline may or may not be evil."

"You enjoy that, Squish. I think you're pretty awesome, you know that?"

"Of course!"

So there you go, folks. A kid who knows that not everybody has to celebrate the same things and that what other people celebrate is interesting and not threatening in the least.

She'll be eligible to run in 26 years-- who's with me?

Creed

Okay-- so, writers figure it out fairly quickly.

Human beings are finite creatures, and there are very few stories to tell. I didn't take the class or read the book, but there are something like nine basic plot archetypes--because humans live very short lives. We've got coming of age, falling in love, supporting/protecting our families, achieving something on a grand scale, fighting against evil, fighting against apathy, fighting against nature, finding fulfillment as an adult, and giving to the next generation before we go tits up.  And then we go tits up and someone has to grieve for us and we start the cycle all over again.

So what's that? Nine? I'm sure someone out there who took the class and read the book can tell me how I fucked that up-- but you get the idea.

So, the Rocky movies are sort of a beloved franchise, because the first movie has the first three conflicts in spades-- plus a whole lot of heart.

And let's face it. Looking deep into Sly's big brown eyes and wishing someone, anyone, would fight his heart out for the big prize and then scream our names because we're that important too?

Dude. Just does it for us, right?

Totally.

So, as Sly gets older and we're left wondering-- "omg. Rocky. Is that it? You're going to wander off into the sunset and you have nothing left to teach us?"  It's sort of nice to see a work from a young director who sat next to his father and was told, "Watch this-- these movies have everything. These are good--they're about being a man."

And when he became a man and decided to make stories for a living, he wanted to tell this story and show respect to the old and make it new again.

So this movie... it's got everything. It's got the original story, and it's got the new version of the original story, and it's got the story behind the story.

I was almost fetal with feelz.  Not even lying.

So at the end of the movie, as I'm wiping my face off on the inside of my sweatshirt, I turn to Mate sort of embarrassed. "God, that one got me," I said, voice shaking.

He did the manly look into the far reaches of space. "Gotta pull myself together. I think I did the ugly cry at the chill scene."

Now, yeah. We're a couple of middle aged people who love movies-- we love movies because we let them get to us, that's just a given.

But damn, the last year has had some shitty reminders that manunkind is just one shitty cycle of idiots who don't learn on a hell's quest to break the world.

It's so good to see that this once, art did its job. Art took the best parts of being human and made them matter. It's the closest we get to being infinite--and we don't do it nearly enough.