Kim Harrison's Blog, page 67

Soggy Monday

Wish I had something for you today, but it’s soggy, and I’m nose-to-keyboard today, working on Grace.

Had a great weekend, though. Went to see Elysium, and loved it. Someone told me it was a lot like District 9, which I don’t watch, so maybe a lot of the ideas it talked about were not new to everyone. I don’t watch a lot of TV.

The entire story was a beautifully told fairytale, so I cut it a lot of slack in regards to societies hows-and-whys, but it worked for me in a lot of ways. And I LOVED seeing the ring world, something I first read about as a teenager, in full high definition and in my face. (Thank you, Larry Niven).

He held still for almost three seconds

It took two years, but I finally brought in one of the bigger butterflies to my office garden. It was the bee balm that did it, and though I know it’s not a good idea to attract birds and butterflies to the same area, I did it anyway–the bee balm is there for the humming birds, too. And the bees. Wow, they are so intent I can brush right by them, knock them off the flower, and they just don’t care.

Yesterday was an odd one at my desk, and I have a feeling I’m looking at my new normal for about a couple of weeks.  The chapter I did yesterday is done and in the cabinet, and I’ll be moving on to the next one today. It’s in no way, shape, or form, finished, though. This story has so many aspects to it, and I know I’m just brushing the surface. I can’t get it all down in one go. It would not only be too exhausting (mentally) but I’m not sure of the pacing of it, so it’s one of those cases where you have to get the story on paper before you can go back and put in the real stuff: the stuff that matters at the end of the day, the stuff that keeps you wondering, because you, as the reader, know there will be some sense of closure about the hard plot of saving the world, but the soft plot of emotions and self-growth? Yeah, that’s what makes it good. And with Grace, the story is there, you just can’t see it yet.

I’m closing my office door at the end of the day somewhat frustrated, knowing it’s not done, but having to be satisfied with what I’ve got and pressing on in the morning. And it’s not going to get any better until I finish this first run through, so I’d better get used to it. –laugh–

Kim Harrison’s 2014 tour schedule

2014 is starting to take shape, and though I can’t say much about the regular tour venues for the release of THE UNDEAD POOL, I can say that I’ll be going out the end of February, early March as tradition dictates. I’ll be working with Nicola’s for signed books as usual, (more on that closer to the end of the year) and I’ll be adding on a major convention this time and going to New Orleans for the RT booklovers convention.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to RT, and I can’t wait. I’ve always maintained that as a group, romance readers are the most accepting, invested readers I’ve ever run into.

The link takes to RT’s dedicated convention page. It’s mostly last year’s right now, but it will evolve as we get closer to the true date. http://www.rtconvention.com/

Birds are gone

It took a long time from hearing the peeps to finding an empty nest, but I can officially say that the house wrens are gone from my garden. It’s been really quiet for the last four days or so. I never even saw them go, them being the hatchlings. They popped out of the nest, and skittered off out of my yard in a single day. I’m not too unhappy, though. I’m fairly sure they will be back. I’ll give it a good month, and then clean out the box. It is stuffed with nest.

New Doctor. Mmmm

I’ve been hearing a lot of flack lately about the new Doctor, and a few loud complaints that he’s not sexy enough, or young enough, and implications that the show is going to lose a lot of the younger watchers that helped it gain its popularity.  Yeah? So what? Maybe then it will begin to speak to me again. It’s been a long time since it has.

See, I’m coming from the Tom Baker era, when I’d flick on PBS and watch back-to-back fuzzy half-hour episodes until the entire two hour, one week showings were aired in a glorious day. This was before it was canceled and Dr. Who was the longest running SF show on TV, even outdoing Star Trek. (All with no sex appeal but for the Doctor’s companions.) The monsters were laughable and the special effects had strings and lightbulbs, but the moral dilemmas and human tragedies were real enough, and I ate it up. There was no sexual tension, no great longing but for the hint of a dangerous, guilty past, and that was attractive, because he survived it, whatever it was, and he was broken, so broken that he could travel around in a little blue box with all sorts of attractive people and not want to kiss them. There is power there. Shelf loads. Not as much as the almighty buck, but we’re talking vision here, that which lifts us up and opens our eyes.

And then Dr Who became popular in the states, and the monsters got more believable, the on-running plots more cohesive, the production expansive, making beautiful shiny visions and wonderful story lines . . . and the danger . . . the danger in the Doctor . . . sort of went away, because when you can dream to love the dangerous, the dangerous loses its power. (See what love did to the vampire? Not so scary anymore, and now we have an entire generation doesn’t even know they’re suppose to be scary.)

So now we have a new doctor, one that doesn’t scream sex appeal, but quite honestly, I like the smart, broken man better then the angst-ridden sexy one. Here’s hoping the danger comes back too, and my Doctor “speaks” to me again.

I kind of miss him . . .

Ahhhhh

Dude, I had a great weekend where I was able to do nothing at all, and so I got tons done. It’s how I roll. I think it’s the first unscheduled weekend Guy and I have had for much of the summer, and I took the opportunity to move a few plants around in my yard. The sun/shade areas have shifted since we moved in and we trimmed up some trees and let others grew like mad. I move plants like some people move furniture, and now a shady iris bed is back in the sun. Looks kind of wilty right now, but they’ll perk up.

I’ll be working with Grace today after taking Friday to re-outline the last ten or so chapters. This thing needs so much work. I can see layers and layers, but I’m only scratching the surface right now, and it’s driving me mad. The temptation to start over at chapter one is great, but I need to finish it first before I can rewrite, or I’ll never get it done.

I love my art fairs

I love my art fairs, and like an addict, I avoid temptation so I don’t walk out of them with loads of beautiful, unique things crafted by people. Guy is no help. He just says “Get it,” and offers to carry. I’ve got one show, the artisan-oriented Renaissance faire in Charlotte NC, where I’ll loosen up the purse strings and binge, staggering out at the end of the day with the stragglers, sunburned and dizzy, but most other times, I just avoid them, knowing the results.

But alas, when temptation lands on your own back door, it’s harder to resist, and I found this lovely print earlier in July–and Guy said, “Get it.”

Happy sigh. The artist is Marian Short, and I got her permission to post her work and gush. I thought it telling that at one of her hospital shows, they wouldn’t let her put this one out because it was too depressing, but I see it as a source of strength. Must be whoever made the decision to ban it would ignore their demon, but that’s a decision too. Marian said she sells most of these to people in the health profession, but I think it works admirably in any creative endeavor that involves plumbing the depths of the human condition.

I can’t wait to frame it.

And the wheel just keeps on turning

Finished a quick rewrite very late yesterday on the last Hollows book–not the one that comes out in Feb 2014, ( THE UNDEAD POOL) but the one that comes out early 2015. OMGosh, I cried, not because it was over, or that I was sad, but that it was the end of a ten year journey for me, and the way it evolved and finished felt satisfying. Just really good.

Ah, I’m not saying the manuscript is perfect, because even as I print it out to send it to my publisher, I see things I want to change, but there’s a real temptation to just throw crap on the page to finish out a contract, and what I came up with felt real, solid, and part of the story. Needed.

Can’t wait for you to see it.

One off my bucket list

A few nights ago, right around dusk, Guy and I were taking in the air on the back porch, and both our attentions were grabbed by a tiny little thump against one of our mature maples. A hunching schlumping figure about the size of a large chipmunk ran up it, and I think I saw my first flying squirrel.

My Grandpa would be thrilled. I know I am.

And thank you everyone who chimed in yesterday about the birds nest fungi! I do believe that’s what I’ve got. Love it!

You tell me, or Kim’s mystery plant of the week

You got me. I’m guessing a fungi? Or maybe an intermediate stage of a fern or something?

Found it in my rock garden, which gets more shade then sun, and that’s only when it’s low and fairly weak. The soil is old and sandy, and the bed was once covered with junipers, (In fact, that’s a juniper berry just over the one on the bottom left) so it’s probably acidic as well. Lots of rain this week, but the bed never bakes in the sun.

Any ideas?