Cherie Priest's Blog: It's awards season, so here comes the shameless self-promotion, page 129

Very Good Dogs

As many of you know first hand, a guide or helper dog can be a life-changing kind of companion — and the institutions that train these fine canines (and subsequently pair them off with the people who need them) are doing truly exceptional work. One in particular is the Fidelco Guide Dog Foundation.

In fact, in December of 2007 one of my long-time readers was partnered with a new guide dog from this very school. Cyndy and “Yara” got along quite smashingly and all was well, until Yara began myste

April 10, 2009

Here’s today’s progress on the battlefield adventure about a widowed nurse from a Confederate hospital aboard a west-bound train pulled by a Union war engine — now with military intrigue, steampunk Texas rangers, undead political separatists, murderous plots, bushwackers, bandits, sabotage, and epic scenes of mayhem:

Project: Dreadnought

New Words: 2701 (pretty good)

Present Total Word Count: 5007 words

Goal: 100,000 words

Observations: How bad would it suck if your job was to go around telling

the monster at the end of this post

Yesterday I looked out the window and saw this, on the street below.

Okay. To be completely honest, what I saw was this same scene with two electricians staring into the hole like they’d just put in a quarter and were waiting for the show to start. When I went downstairs to ask about it, they shrugged and said that they’d reported the situation to the city. So I shrugged too.

Then one of them asked, “Is that your salt?” And I was like, “No.” So we all shrugged again and we went our separate way

Started out in church and finished with Angelica

And so it begins. Here’s today’s progress on the battlefield adventure about a widowed nurse from a Confederate hospital aboard a west-bound train pulled by a Union war engine — now with military intrigue, steampunk Texas rangers, undead political separatists, murderous plots, bushwackers, bandits, sabotage, and epic scenes of mayhem:

Project: Dreadnought

New Words: 2306 (it’s a start!)

Present Total Word Count: 2306 words

Goal: 100,000 words

Observations: I’d be astonished if this comes in und

Wait. What?

Around lunchtime, I ran back over to the movie set briefly to drop off some promised items — then I came home because there Much Work To Do. But then I sat down on the couch, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes for a couple of minutes. And suddenly it was 5:00.

I have no idea how that happened. I wish it had not happened, despite the fact that the odds are high I needed it badly; thanks to my allergies I’ve been sleeping like hell for several days, and the long weekend was a fun riot, but

I said this world is full of endless abstractions

It’s positively exhausting, standing around preparing for things to happen. For much of the day, I felt like I was in a church, waiting for a wedding to start — hanging around the outskirts of a room, waiting to be sent for and told where to stand while lots of people were doing very complicated things with cameras.

But it wasn’t a wedding. It was a short independent film, and I was an extra.

Caitlin, Aric, and I met up at a lovely old historic mansion on the backside of Capitol Hill, where we lo

Everybody’s workin’ for the weekend

Mine has been most excellent, excepting the hideous allergies (conSARS?) which afflict me this afternoon. Ah, spring in Seattle. Doesn’t feel like spring. Only kind of looks like spring. But unleashes all the spring allergens like gangbusters.

Anyway. My weekend began on Friday, as you no doubt noticed from the picture I posted with my previous entry. Long story short, that afternoon I got together with Wil, Joanne, and Joanne’s S.O. Marc for my upteenth visit to the Seattle Underground To

Flush with Joy

Courtesy of the exceptional BarbieHead.

(That’s her, lower right.)

[Crossposted to/from my website. If you'd like to comment, you can do so either here or there.]

Not dead yet.

I woke up this morning to an email from my former boss and all-around great guy, who shall henceforth be referred to as “Bluemeister P.” He knows why. Anyway, this email informs me that I am dead, and ain’t that a lark? It also suggested that I call him so he could offer more personal condolences on my very sad state of vitality (or lack thereof).

I agreed to this, even though I was well aware that any given phone call with Bluemeister P. was far more likely to be peppered with profanity, fart

Of teeth and terror and drywall dust

Wow. I guess L. Ron Hubbard had it right. Success really is inventing your own religion. Welcome to all you newcomers, and Steve bless the lot of you. Welcome to the non-douchey side. Come on in. Sit a spell. We serve brownies, and we don’t lick ‘em first or nothin’.


So today was my third visit to the dentist in the last six weeks, which sounds excessive, I suppose — unless you keep in mind that heretofore it’d been ten years between visits.

The first trip was a general evaluation and enough fo