Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 120

Wreck of the Menstrual Cycle

So, after hanging out with the girls today and going to the yarn store then coming home to watch Working Girl, I was ready to go with Mate for dinner and a movie.

But, well, you read the title.  We had to come home after dinner so I could change, and I just wasn't ready to put on a whole new date outfit.

Besides-- @Midnight was on, and that's always fun.

Seriously-- after RT and the pace I was running (or not running, because I was sick for two weeks!) hanging out to watch movies is just SO seductive. And Chicken is here. And Squish needs me. And…

And then, oh, angry heavens, Dirty Dancing was on!

I've been seriously trying to watch that movie from beginning to end for about two years.  Tonight was my night.

"Nobody puts baby in a corner!"

"That's a real grown-up name, Frances."

"I carried a watermelon?"

"I didn't do the lift…"

"Stay alive, no matter what occurs, and I will find you!"

Wait… there's something wrong with that last one…

Oh!  Yeah!

Last of the Mohicans.  

Heh heh heh…

Maybe that's a movie for tomorrow!

But for tonight, there needs to be lots and lots of writing.  And maybe more movies tomorrow.

A Little Homesick...

So ZB is in Paris, and this evening I got this call:

"Hi mom.  I'm a little homesick."

"Well, we miss you honey, but I hope you're having fun."

"I'm using my roommate's phone.  Can I talk to Squish?"

I handed the phone to Squish, and what was going to be a long convo started.  I got the phone back QUICKLY.

"Uhm, ZB, hon-- we love you. We miss you. We hope you have fun. And this phone call is costing your roommate's parents a LOT of money."

*click*

He's a good egg, ZB. And we miss him terribly.

* * *

Spent the day sleeping and chilling. Literally-- it reached A Bajillion degrees here today, so getting to the grocery store before it got so hot the ice cream would melt before I got it out to the car was the most pressing thing on my agenda today.

* * *

By the way, @midnight's hashtag wars was #addgoatruinagoat which I think is a game we will be playing for a very long time.  My favorite of the family offerings was the following from Chicken: "Goats and cows, living together, mass hysteria…"  From Goatbusters.

* * *

And I'm off to edit Bound and working Lollipop, which is the sequel to Bitter Taffy.  

A Very Big Day

We got up at 4 a.m. so we could leave Zoomboy at the airport at 5:30.

He looked really grown up, but his last hug was really tight.  Mama's been trying to keep it together all day.  It helps that we were REALLY busy.

We left the airport around 6:00 and drove straight to San Francisco.  We arrived around 9:10-- which was enough driving time for me to finish that wrap I talked about last week.  I think I am going to keep it, because… well, because I think it's good. I think it's pretty.  My artist friends are all nice and won't laugh at me behind my back when I wear it, I know it!

Anyway, we parked and napped for about half an hour.  Then we walked a mile to the Moscone Center so I could attend the RWA book signing at the American Library Association convention.

Mate and the girls went to ride the trolley-- and I signed books.

I met two fans--eeeeee!!!!  Amy Call, who hung out for a picture (not this one)  and omg… I'm sorry!  Forgot!!! Name!!! But she loved Clear Water!!!  I also signed 58 OTHER book for other people who were happy to meet me. I wanted to cry-- they were all so nice!  Carol Ritter and Steph Fry, the RWA Goddesses who met me were SO ORGANIZED.  But they also loved Harry Potter and thought Matt Lewis (thanks Steph!) got unbelievably hot.  They were nice enough to listen to me ramble (because sleep deprivation and, hello, a sort of FREAKING AMAZING two and a half weeks) so I adore them now. They're wonderful.

Anyway-- Mate called me and said, "Come meet us at Lou's Fish Shack on the wharf!"

I caught a cab outside the center… and the proceeded to look up Lou's Fish Shack so I could give the guy the address, and then watched as he drove me around the city in a very big loop to get there, and THEN gaped at him as he dropped me off with no Fish Shack in sight.

So I asked a local where it was.

And was directed the wrong way.

And then asked a guy at an info booth where it was, and turned around and walked back the block and then up another block to get there.

I'm like, "Holy God-- if natives don't even know their own city, we're all fucking doomed!"

So I was starving when I got there, but Mate had ordered me a sourdough chowder bowl, and we sat out on the patio and ate.  Then we walked down to Pier 39, where we walked into the puppet store.  They said, "What are you looking for?"

I said, "We're looking for something for Squish, who had to deal with the fact that mom and dad were too busy volunteering and dealing with college graduating and trips to San Diego and trips to Europe to remember flowers for her recital, and who watched her brother get on a plan to Paris without her at five in the morning."

They said, "So, basically anything in the store."

I was like, "Skies the limit."

She got an Arctic Fox named Magic-- who is beautiful and who can be brushed for real-- I have no pictures, but, well, Squishy and Magic. It only makes sense.

And I got these three zombies for my friend Sheela and her kids, because Zombies are here THING. Then we walked to the trolley, took the trolley to the end of the Embarcadero, and walked another couple of blocks to the car.  Yes. We DID go in a HUGE ASSED CIRCLE made of walking, trolleys, cabs, and tears, why do you ask?

Anyway-- Mate clawed his way out of the city using teeth and nails, and then we got home.  And I made Chicken pose for me with the wrap-- because all things are more beautiful with a Chicken in it.

And yeah.  It's even prettier on her-- not that she knows what to do with it but still.

All things considered, it was like our day-- a long road, and a long way around, but the end result was worth it.

Oh Happy Day!

Taken by Steve Parris, of Seattle So, when I was little, my dad was a hippie-- I've gone on about Brother Bus elsewhere, but one of the details I neglected there was that strung between the front and back of the car, right where a chauffeur would have a window on a limo, were two giant peace flags.

My dad once got pulled over by men in black suits because they did NOT like those peace flags.

I suppose if there's anything a five year old needs in education about symbols, it's having a scary man ask her dad if he was ready to go to jail for defacing the American flag.  Of course, it was just a scare tactic-- especially when they realized that their young hippie had a little girl and a dog in the back of the bus, but it did make it's point.

Freedom to believe in the symbol of your choosing is so important.

So when a reader sent me this picture, taken from last year's Seattle Pride, I was enchanted.  Now the reader has sent me some ASTOUNDING photos of Seattle before this-- I love his eye and his take on the world.

But given the Supreme Court's ruling on Friday-- and how very much I like this symbol-- I asked if I could show this one.

Oh please, world-- let us know love, and some joy, and, in this matter of simple human dignity, a little peace.

Only YOU can prevent tragic ushing accidents…

So show one of the annual recital commenced tonight, and the following things occurred in no particular order:

A.  I remembered why I should never work retail, because customer service is NOT my strong suit.  Witness when the woman came in a half an hour late and got in my face because I was busy with someone else and didn't offer a program.  "We're you late?" I snapped, and she looked at me, as though surprised.

Yeah.  Don't piss off a volunteer.

And what I almost said to the asshole who--after watching me pick up trash for half an hour, cheerfully and willingly, in what was mostly just a bid to get us all the hell out of there as soon as possible-- snarled, "You are DRIPPING all over the FLOOR!"

It almost slipped out. I was JUST right there about to say, "Hey, asshole, maybe YOU should volunteer for trash duty!" when I realized that the public might not be served by this display of temper, and I turned around to go dump my trash bag.  Mate saw me marching down the aisle and said, "Is there a body?"

No.  But because I didn't glare at him to kill.

B.  I also proved that I can fuck up the mostly harmless duty.  So there I was, punching holes in tickets, when suddenly the hole punch jumped and BIT me. It drew blood. I had to ask one of the busiest dancers in the show to go back and get a bandaid from the first aid lady.

Seriously. Brought down by a tragic ushing accident-- don't let it happen to you!

C.  Don't pull petty tyrant crap on me either.  When an older woman asks for a bottle of water so she can down a painkiller for her back, don't give her shit about "These many hundreds of bottles of water are here for intermission ONLY!"

Especially if she's your mom.

And don't look at me dirty if I open a sacred bottle of water for your own mother because she's not feeling well and is really frickin' pale. I appreciate that you take snack bar seriously, but… you know. THE WATER IS DONATED. In fact, EVERYTHING on the table is donated. Which means that elderly women who need to wash down a Tylenol can pretty much "steal" a donated water.

And yes. I did donate four boxes of Oreos and two boxes of shortbread and an ice chest full of ice, and I AM going to donate the same tomorrow. So yeah. I'm taking a cookie for me and a cupcake for my daughter, who sat in the audience for most of the show because she only performed one bonus number (the father daughter dance) and her actual class performances are tomorrow.  She's been an awesome kid, I just spent half an hour filling ice chests when I didn't have to, and she's getting a cupcake. Your glare means nothing to me. Sayin'.

D. Chicken once again walked into a backstage situation and did her best. Zoomboy proved he is all hambone and was adorable during the boy's dance and the Wizard of Oz dance, wherein he buffed the Tin Man in rhythm. (That sounds… just wrong, but it was what he DID.)  Squish sat politely in a seat next to a complete stranger and watched the show until her time to go.

Mate did EVERYTHING including Security Dad, including help with the backdrop, including the father/daughter dance.  Yes. Watching him and Squish dancing together makes me tear up every time.

Well done, family.

We're back tomorrow--I shall do my level best not to get fired from volunteer work.

No promises.

Yes, there's still knitting...

So, I'll be honest. Jay (From Joyfully Jay's) posted an absolutely adorable picture on Twitter, featuring herself wearing a scarf she'd made in Dragonfly Fibers.  She had very kind words about me as a knitting inspiration, and I felt very inadequate, because the scarf was amazing and because…

Well, this is what I'm working on now.

Every artist I know has run away from this project screaming.  "Oh my God, the colors, the colors, the hideous colors!!!"

Everyone else gets shiny-squirrel syndrome.  "Oooh… I like that stripe, and that stripe, and that one… and the flow… and the ribbon… and the drape… and the…. ooooooohhhhh….."

So I figure, on the one hand, this would be a TERRIBLE project to wear in public and say, "Oh, yes, it's an Amy Lane original!" because it will make about 1/5 of the population raise their eyebrow and think to themselves, "Keep this woman away from knitting, yarn stores, and any sort of paint and draw program because… damn!"

The other 4/5ths will say, "Oh my God, it's an AMY LANE ORIGINAL!!! IT'S AWESOME!"  Because they're much like me and they're sucked into the four kinds of WOW present in what's going to be a very large, very drapey and formless sort of wrap made for summer evenings and airplanes.

So…

You know.

Torn.

I'd really love to wear this for myself.  I'd also really love to send it to someone else and disclaim all knowledge of aforementioned wrap.

We'll have to see.  If it shows up on your doorstep, feel free to say you got it from Good Will.

I DO need to finish it though, because

A. I just re-orged my yarn into drawers and dismantled several UFO's and turned them into newly wound yarn again.

 B.  I also saved some of those UFO's-- mostly socks-- and would like to finish them  and

 C. My beloved friend and editor wants me to knit her THIS-- and sent me some lovely Madeleine Tosh worsted to make that happen.  Now, before you wander off and ignore that link, I need you to take in two things.  One is that NEIL GAIMEN is modeling that scarf, and that I loved the idea so much, I went and bought THE BOOK that has the pattern in it.  And I also bought the yarn featured in the ad right above the Mr. Gaimen's handsome, pixieish visage.  Which leads me to

 D. Chicken would like me to knit her a cropped short sleeve cardigan with Say Nevermore, made by Blue Moon Fibers, the people who brought us Socks That Rock.

So see?  I've got to figure out what I'm doing quick and finish off that wrap!

Because

E. I also have the wooby that Elizabeth North, Ariel Tachna and I all purchased in Dallas, so to make before the weather turned again.

So yeah-- I have SO MUCH to do in the writing front and the kid front--

But in case you were still wondering?

I'm still knitting.

There's No Place Like Home

And people were happy to see me.

Even the furry ones.

Chicken is trying to come to terms with the idea of a "va-cay-tion"-- because it's a foreign concept.

Zoomboy is packing for Europe and getting ready for the dance recital.

Squish is getting ready for the dance recital and looking forward to having her big sister here.



Big T enjoyed family time tonight, as evidenced by the six contributions to the @Midnight's #hashtagwars.  (They give the prompt, and I ask everybody in the family for their input, then I tweet each attempt.  Sometimes, we're AWESOMELY funny, and sometimes, we're just so-so-- I think Mate had the best one tonight, but Zoomboy has been a front runner a couple of times.)

Mate is making plans to come with me to New York, dependent on me calling New York sometime tomorrow.

And I am catching up on an editing job that is, per usual late.

But hey-- at least the dog loves me.

Wounded, Volume 1

So, for those of you new to the Little Goddess party, well, it's been going on a long time.

Vulnerable was my first published book and although I still have a few printed manuscripts for what were intended to be het Harlequins, Vulnerable is the book I consider my first.

I self published it--and the editing was a joke and the ending caught people by surprise--but people still loved it.  Sincerely loved it, and I realized I couldn't stop at just one book.

Wounded was the next in the series, and the editing didn't get any better, but people still loved it, and Wounded was followed by Bound, and then-- well, then by the Bitter Moon Saga, but that's another series--but then followed by Rampant, and The Green's Hill Werewolves (which were sort of my warmups for M/M, even though it's an M/M/F menage, just because the relationship between Jack and Teague was so strong)  and then by the Green's Hill novellas series--Litha's Constant Whim, Guarding the Vampire's Ghost, and I Love You, Asshole. 

And finally for Quickening, which I finished this spring, and which people have been waiting for me to write for over five years.

A year and a half ago, Dreamspinner Press released a new imprint, DSP Publications, which is essentially for books that are more genre--fantasy, urban fantasy, mystery, sci-fi-- than gay romance, even though LGBTQ can be a part of it.  These books fit right in, and this last year has been an effort to recover and re-edit the books and make them presentable again for you.

In the process, they managed to convince me that 200K was a little long for just one book, and maybe, just maybe, it would be a good idea to break the longer books in half.  So, that's why this one is Wounded, Volume 1.  Because the original Wounded was pretty damned long, and when you're selling e-books, apparently that breaks something called a price point and… (I'll be honest. My eyes glaze over sort of, but I do know it's a long fucking book to edit when you're doing it right, and breaking it in half helped my teeny little brain from going splodey.)  So that's why it's Wounded, Volume 1, the Second book of the Little Goddess Series. Wounded, Volume 2 is going to be released at the beginning of August, so you won't have long to wait.  (For the record, we're doing this with Bound, Rampant, and Quickening too.  Because uh… shorter books sell better?  I swear, I get lost in the conversation every time, but when everyone from your husband to your editor to your publisher to your best friend tells you that this is a good thing, you eventually nod and go, "Okay. Yeah. That's great!")

But Wounded Book 1 is out-- and besides the fact that my Bracken is pretty, this is where my storytelling started getting complex and interesting.  This is also where a character sort of sat up, grabbed my by the throat and said, "Uhm, excuse me. I am big, brooding, and have a ginormous penis, and I think I need a bigger part in this."  I mean, Green did this to me too-- but he was less up front. He just sort of won his way into my heart. Bracken growled and flashed his cock, and that was new for me, and I have adored him every since. So please enjoy my big growly sidhe-- and my wounded little goddess who finds she can't live without him.

Amy

Happy Graduation, Chicken!

 I'm back in San Diego again.

This time to see Chicken graduate.

She's tired, and doesn't think she's accomplished much.

But in truth?

We are so proud.

Thanks, Rhys Ford, for being there to see my baby graduate, and for taking pictures and taking me to lunch when I was about to eat a really bad muffin.

It's been LONG BUSY month-- and it doesn't slow down, really, until next Tuesday, but it was so worth it to be there today.

Sorry about being the crazy woman in the jeans, baby--

But remember that crazy woman was so very proud of you.

Cover Reveal-- and thank you!

First of all, I'd like to say thank you to EVERYBODY who has told me that Keir and Nascha and Cal's predicament with his family has moved them.  Not everybody feels that way, so your support--and belief that this story is ultimately positive and happy, and that the sweetness outweighs the pain--well, you're Amy Lane fans for one, pure and simple-- but you're also the reason I get brave enough to write angsty orange for another.  You all know I could write happy, sunshine yellow Amy Lane Lite--but you love the angsty orange too, and I love writing that because it moves you.

So thank you, everybody who has been kind about these two difficult characters.  Most people out there know that mental illness is a cause close to my heart, and your acceptance means something to me.

And speaking of Amy Lane Lite--

Well, I still need to write my post about yellow-- but I'm getting there!

But you should know that some more yellow is coming-- I have here the cover for Bitter Taffy, the sequel to Candy Man.  Isn't Rico pretty?  And Clopper is… well, Clopper-- a big moo of a dog who works nicely as an analogy for pretty much every man in the story (until Lollipop which I'm working on now, because one of the guys is like Jake the cat).

But anyway-- this is sweet, feel good, and fun, I hope. Lots of banter, lots of fun, a teeny bit heartbreak, but it's like salt in salted caramel ice cream. Mostly there for flavor.

I hope you guys look forward to it-- it's coming out next month!