Cherie Priest's Blog: It's awards season, so here comes the shameless self-promotion, page 43

Gimme a beat

Here’s today's progress on my comic/sci-fi young adult project where a girl becomes a ninja and fights aliens with much ass-kicking and many LOLs but not a whole lot of kissing (or any kissing, to be frank) plus BONUS Bruce Lee’s ghost, a vintage Thunderbird, zenlightenment on the fly, and fat stacks of Cool Ranch Doritos.
Project: Ninja Planet
Deadline: Sooner rather than later
New words written: 2380 (much better!)
Present total word count: 46,093 words



Things accomplished in fiction: I saw Bambi in a UFO. She didn't look very happy about it.

Things accomplished in real life: Daily jaunt around the neighborhood with the dog; started up my yoga routine again and learned that I have gotten terrible at it over the winter; cooked up a big fat lunch and cleaned the kitchen; got my inbox back down to zero, which I'm trying to make the Default State rather than something I achieve once in awhile.

Number of fiction words so far this year: 7,048

Life will have its way with your pride, son

Today has not been the world's most productive, from a writing standpoint. In my defense, the husband and I had errands to run, and then we had snow - which was both frightening and delightful to Greyson, depending on when you caught him.

His first instinct was to bark at it. Second was to hide from it. Third was to eat it, and after that, he was free to romp in it.





So I've been kind of distracted, but I still managed to squeeze out a few words. Just a few. I wouldn't get too excited, if I were you.

So here’s an update on my comic/sci-fi young adult project where a girl becomes a ninja and fights aliens with much ass-kicking and many LOLs but not a whole lot of kissing (or any kissing, to be frank) plus BONUS Bruce Lee’s ghost, a vintage Thunderbird, zenlightenment on the fly, and fat stacks of Cool Ranch Doritos.
Project: Ninja Planet
Deadline: Sooner rather than later
New words written: 668 (yeah, I know - but it's better than none)
Present total word count: 43,713 words



Things accomplished in fiction: ALIENS ATTACK auuuugh run for your lives

Things accomplished in real life: Got groceries; went to lunch with husband; did laundry; chased the dog around with a camera; got my inbox back down to zero, so there's that.

Number of fiction words so far this year: 4,668

John Wayne ain't got nothing on my fringe game

It's been a busy week, with a lot of "hurry up and wait" colliding with "but I need to get this sorted out pretty much now" at the intersection of half a dozen things requiring my attention. And yet, I feel like not a great deal of productivity occurred.

The only thing I can really point to is a couple thousand words on Ninja Planet, the YA project of my heart. No, I haven't forgotten it - and I am lurching toward the end on this one ... only a few hundred words a day (at best) but I'm finding my momentum again. One way or another, I will finish a draft within the next week.

THERE. I HAVE SAID IT ON THE INTERNET.
Now I have to make it come true.

So here’s an update on my comic/sci-fi young adult project where a girl becomes a ninja and fights aliens with much ass-kicking and many LOLs but not a whole lot of kissing (or any kissing, to be frank) plus BONUS Bruce Lee’s ghost, a vintage Thunderbird, zenlightenment on the fly, and fat stacks of Cool Ranch Doritos.
Project: Ninja Planet
Deadline: Sooner rather than later, dammit
New words written: This week - I'm not sure. Let's say 2k?
Present total word count: 43,045 words



Things accomplished in fiction: Got the scoop on where the Men In Suits are taking the kids - but everyone has major doubts about what they'll do upon arrival; drove through a crowd of people. Gently. More or less.

Things accomplished in real life: Aggravatingly enough, I can't talk about any of it. And there is a LOT to talk about. Or there will be, within the next few weeks. I think.

Number of fiction words so far this year: Must begin this tally with an estimate - 4,000

ChattaCon: The Post

ChattaCon has come and gone, and it was a hoot - in every way possible. I got to hang with local pals like Derek Tatum; kick around with always-lovely cool kids like Tim and Serena Powers and William Stout (both of whom I've been fortunate enough to "convention" with before); reconnect for shenanigans and gossip with Wendy Webb and Stephen Antczak; and go out for lunchings with local author Shane Berryhill.

I know I'm leaving people out. I know, it's awful, really - but beyond a certain point it's a bit of a blur: the wonderful AnachroCon and DragonCon people, the podcasters and other interviewers, the delightful costumers, Larry Smith and his book-booth, the fine people in operations, all the sweet fans who let me deface their books with my illegible (and sometimes misspelled) signatures ... AND I got to have a fannish blimpdance and hug with Steampunk Boba Fett!

BECAUSE I MEAN REALLY.



In addition to all this fabulous mayhem, we had house guests! The inimitable Sara Harvey came to crash in our guest room, and with her came the Mighty Mighty Bee. "B" (nickname) is her 2-year-old daughter, who did verily use Greyson for a jungle gym, as you know all too well if you were watching my Twitter feed.

I might've sort of flooded it with pictures like THIS ONE.




They had a really great give-and-take going on, where he'd follow her around incessantly - licking her like he was hunting her Tootsie Roll center ... and then he'd get tired and go lie down for a nap. At which point she would demand that he chase her, then crawl upon him and generally be so adorable that even a dog getting climbed like a StairMaster was compelled to give her yet more licking.

SUBMITTED AS EVIDENCE: The following video. Stick around for the end. There are toddler hugs and dog kisses.



But now all's gone quiet. I'm home kicking around on the internet, watching Sunday night cartoons and decompressing. Sara and B have gone home, ChattaCon is over, and I am very, very tired.

But I did want to do a bloggy wrap-up, and say thanks to everyone who made the event so grand! Have a good evening, everyone - and a good week to come.

If I pray really tight, get into a fake bar fight

Today I mailed off a set of contracts for a short story - my first sale of the year! - so that's a nice way to start the week. (I'll give you details on the matter when I receive the all-clear to do so, but I'm not sure when that will be.) While I was at it, I mailed off some IRS paperwork to my agent's office, too. Less thrilling, yes. But part of that ever-necessary Writing Business thing I sometimes allude to.

I also spent a while on the phone with a distant friend, alternately gossiping and plotting shenanigans, but such is the way of these things.

Other than that, it's mostly been emails and print-outs and whatnot - getting ready for ChattaCon on Friday. It looks like I'm not very heavily scheduled - though an off-site radio interview and a (separate) meeting with a journalist have now been shoe-horned into the mix, so the days won't be quite as sparse as I thought, and that's nice.

I'm honestly looking forward to it!

I have friends crashing in my guest room (which will be awesomely fun), and for once the convention is within easy driving distance of home. (Walking distance, even - if it weren't so damn cold and if I were somewhat less lazy.) I won't have to live on vending machines, con suite snacks, and hotel bar food!

[:: throws confetti ::]

Hmm....what else? Let's see.

As of late, Greyson is taking a measured, long-game approach to making friends with Spainy. He creeps up to her, as close as she'll let him get, inch by inch ... and when he's reasonably sure he can't push his luck any farther, he lies down and takes a nap. If she doesn't yell at him or wander off immediately, then he "wins." Or I think that's the gist, anyway.

As you can see, it's working out pretty well. She still fusses at him sometimes, but he's a smart puppy - and now he's learning to be a patient one.

Productive Days

There are productive days and there are Productive Days. Today was somewhere in the middle - which is to say, I didn't get any writing done, but many other assorted activities were sorted out and accomplished. A measure of writing business occurred. A small measure. But that's something, isn't it?

Ahem.

Anyway, we made a number of changes today, starting this morning.

We'd been taking Greyson out to a vet rather far away (we "inherited" the office when we adopted him) ... but we hadn't been wholly satisfied there, and they were a good 20-30 minutes away, a relevant stat because of Greyson's tendency to become apocalyptically carsick. We were hunting for something within easier reach. Something that would traumatize him (and provoke projectile vomiting) a little less.

If you're wondering why he needed a vet again, it's a long story. To make it short, he'd missed out on an important set of tests and preventatives due to a miscommunication with the old vet - and we needed to get it sorted out. So we asked around, and learned that there is someone in Hamilton County who does house calls!

[:: throws confetti ::]

Greyson loved Dr. Alison Gussack and we do too - we're absolutely delighted to have found her. If you're in the Chattanooga area, look 'er up: Vet2Go.

Two thumbs up, highly recommended. No more expensive than a good office visit - and when you consider how little we enjoy laundering drool-covered towels and/or carrying around garbage bags full of puppy puke, I tell you 'twas a bargain.

And, because such is the way of things ... I was printing out the forms from the good doctor's website when it became apparent that I could no longer pretend that my printer wasn't dying right there in front of me. None of my usual tricks worked, and I gave up. I'd had the thing for about 6-7 years, which isn't so bad in the scheme of things; and I don't need a printer often, but when I need it, I NEED IT.

Right as I was coming to this conclusion, my laptop tried to vibrate off my desk and catch fire.

Wee!

So I'm writing this from my shiny new laptop, and if I have to print something out, it'll be on my shiny new printer. [:: sigh ::]

Today was an expensive day. But productive. I mean, once I got everything set up. Eventually. I productively moved all my stuff off the old laptop before it actually caught fire and raised a minor demon to prance about my office ... AND HEY. New toys. New tax deductions, anyway.

Besides that, Greyson did us proud this morning. He slobbered merrily all over the doc, and only doled out mournful accusatory puppy-dog eyes while getting a dollop of blood drawn - as he lounged in his favorite room, surrounded by toys and chewies. All in all, FAR less awful than 45 minutes in a 2-barf car-trip and then a boost onto a cold metal table.

Or so I must assume by the happy puppy dance ten minutes later, when I took him out for a walk.

And by the way: All his tests turned up clear. He is a healthy, wiggly, spoiled, adorable pup. And with any luck, he'll stay that way for quite some time to come.

Dog and Cat Dress-Up for Great Justice

So I was minding my own business the other day, and into my inbox pops a message from the divine Mary Robinette Kowal - regarding our mutual friend Jay Lake. As many of you no doubt know, Jay has been battling colon cancer since 2008; and recently the news has been less than fabulous on that front.

In short, the cancer has gotten worse rather than better, and now he's on his fourth round of chemo - with results that could best be described as "meh," and doctors who are running out of suggestions.

However, there's a new technology that might prove helpful to Jay's condition: full genome sequencing of the cancer, which could possibly lead to better, more targeted treatment.

I don't want to blow anyone's mind or anything, but the sequencing is expensive and - I'm sure it will astonish you to learn - not covered by insurance. So Mary (along with Catherine Shaffer) got the idea to throw a fundraiser on Jay's behalf, and she asked if I would contribute One Act of Whimsy to the effort.

Of course I was more than happy to be part of the hootenanny, but to be perfectly honest, I am kind of whimsy-deficient. When I confessed this tragic moral failing, Mary immediately shotgunned me a list of whimsical services I could hypothetically render, as if perhaps she had been giving this a lot of thought or something.

At the top of the list: A goth or steampunk fashion show featuring my pets, Spain the Cat and Greyson the Oversized Puppy Monster.

This was a great suggestion, for it smiled upon my innate laziness! I take pictures of my pets all the time! And I have oodles of goth and steampunk accessories at my immediate disposal! This will be a cakewalk!

I pounced upon the idea. I can't remember if I was drunk.

Surely I must've been? I mean, do you have any idea how hard it is to get a cat into a tiny Dracula cape?* And how risky, for someone with such a rare blood type as mine?

But you know what? For Jay - it was totally worth the wrestling, fussing, cajoling, cookie-feeding, begging, and bleeding. Because ladies, gents, and the otherwise affiliated ... I give you ... the saga of Spain the Cat and Greyson the Oversized Puppy Monster.

Bedecked.

I tried the cat first, because she seemed to be in a pretty laid-back mood and she was hanging around within easy reach. Which is to say, she was sitting on my lap. But look, I'm not going to lie to you: this is pretty much the only shot I got of her actually wearing anything.

(The aforementioned Dracula cape, which I applied with the reverse side showing because hey, black cape on a black cat gets you a black blob.)




I spent forever trying to get her to hold my wee copy of HOW I DID IT, by Victor Frankenstein, but she flat refused and alas, all you have is my word to take for the effort. Believe me, I did try. And she did give me the big furry finger.

But then I thought to myself, "Self, I have a lovely Venetian mask with silver and gold swirlies and lots of fringe. That's pretty goth, if only by virtue of the fact that I've worn it to the occasional Vampire: The Masquerade event. I wonder if I can get her to hold still and let me affix that lovely thing to her fluffy little mug."

You can probably guess how that went down.







Until finally, she successfully writhed free - at which point she was content to hang around it, looking pretty.




I wondered if I might have better luck putting a hat on her, but the smallest hat I own was big enough for her to sit in, so that didn't pan out either.




Yes, I know that "tiny hats" are kind of a steampunk "thing" but I don't own any. I don't have a tiny head. So I don't have any tiny hats.

And that's just math, y'all.

But you know who has a head big enough for my hats? Greyson! Yes! Our newest family member, who is coming up on 11 months old and 70+ pounds. That kid has a head like a cement block.

However, as I had completely forgotten upon trying to execute my cunning plan ... he also has a wild, inexplicable fear of hats.**



EVENTUALLY. With the application of many loving reassurances plus half a box of banana-peanut-butter-flavored dog cookies ... I got him to try on a smaller hat. The cat-rejected bowler, now with some fancypants goggles affixed thereunto. The results, I don't mind telling you, were a hoot.

I want to caption every one of them with Tom Waits lyrics (adjusted). Starting with: "My owner has been drinking... not meeeee."







Next we moved on to the goggles. Equally offensive, as far as Greyson was concerned, but further judicious application of dog-cookies and tummy rubs produced this shot of woe. I mean, really. WAS EVER A DOG ASKED TO SUFFER SO MUCH FOR THE SAKE OF INTERNET HILARIY...




Funny enough, he didn't really seem to mind the leg-warmers - though he'd only consent to one at a time, meaning that if this were a serious cold-ankles situation he'd be 3/4 shit-out-of-luck. (Wait: Do dogs have ankles?)

But yes. Legwarmers. What? Legwarmers are totally steampunk. I mean, if they are if they have kicky little clockwork buttons on them.




Noooo! Greyson! We do not eat our kicky clock buttons!




Maybe the leg warmers weren't such a good idea. Let us move on to ... waistcoats!




Okay, no. Right. Something else, then.
How about ... fancy utility belts!




He actually liked this one a lot; he pranced around the guest room in it, like he thought he was a real Sexy Beast.*** It made me wonder if maybe he wouldn't approve of some kind of non-waistcoat-type vest, perhaps a dog vest with pockets or something.

He could be my back-up purse in case of hiking or camping. Little monster can carry his own water bottles to the dog park. Hmm.

ANYWAY. That's all I've got, because, well, that's all I've got. Partly due to the following disclaimer: No pets were harmed in the course of this dress-up photo session. They were not folded, spindled, nor mutilated. They were bribed and inconvenienced, but only within the reasonable limits of their tolerance. The cat is at least 13 years old (maybe older), and her patience is, shall we say, limited. I didn't want to stress her out or hurt her with fanciful coercion. The dog is pretty hardy, but he's also a sensitive soul who shoots guilt-rays out of his eyes, and I am weak against them. So these are the pictures you get. Do not fear for the critters. They are beloved and spoiled. And I wish I didn't have to post a paragraph like this, but a dozen years on the internet tell me that if I don't, I'll get Emails Of Outrage Or Concern. So there you go.

A few outtakes of the shoots are available over on my Flickr page.

And while you're down here, at the bottom of this post, still reading even though I'm out of pictures - by all means consider donating to Mary's fundraiser for Jay. Details available here ... and yes, they're over the goal, but they're leaning out for the stretch - in hopes of buying Jay a leave-of-absence from work. Yes, he's been working a full time job (and writing books!!!) throughout the whole cancer ordeal.

Go show the man some love, would you?


* I have a cat-sized Dracula cape because I own a cat-sized Bela Lugosi doll dressed as Dracula. If you must know.
* And umbrellas and swooshy scarves. Maybe he was menaced as a wee pup by that guy from the Gashlycrumb Tinies.
*** In fact he is a Neutered Beast. (Spay and neuter your pets!)

If you fall when we march forth

[ Oh hey, look. LJ is working again. You missed a post or two, if you only read me via this page - as I tried to update it the other day and everything was all b0rked. LJ has served me well through the years, but it really does seem to be dying. If you really want to keep track of me, you'll have far better luck over at http://www.cheriepriest.com ]

2013 is starting out kindly, knock on wood. I've gotten a couple of big deadlines squared away (for the time being), and I'm almost finished putting another one to bed (I'll wrap it up tomorrow). Apart from that last niggling thing, I plan to take January "off," which is to say, I'll work on a couple of personal projects that are - at this point - essentially "for fun." But otherwise, writing-wise, there's nothing I plan to make a priority.

I'm tired.
That's all.

Here on the home front all is generally well, which is to say, blessedly quiet. I've managed a lot of dog-walking and laundry, disassembled all the Christmas goodies, made several trips to the post office, and accomplished a bit of shopping - plus all the usual little fiddly bits of writer-business. (Emails. A couple of interviews. Sorting out receipts, contracts, etc.)

Speaking of writer-business, I'm afraid I have to withdraw from another event - the Gaslight Gathering in San Diego. I feel awful about it, but an unexpected family matter is getting in the way, and I really have no other choice. This absolutely should not reflect on that event, or anyone associated with it. They've been lovely, and this isn't their fault in the slightest. It's just a quirk of timing and conflicting obligations, I want to make clear - they've been wonderful, understanding, and professional.

I realize that this is the second event I've cancelled in as many months, but it's pure coincidence, and the causes are unrelated. I try to console myself with the knowledge that I've done nearly fifty such events in the last three years, and this is only the third I've to withdraw from; but that doesn't really make me feel any better about it.

Anyway, I've updated my "Appearances" page accordingly.
[:: sigh ::]

Hmm. What else? Let's see.

The housepets continue to do well. Right now, Greyson is in the guest room chewing on a pig hoof - which is exactly as revolting as it sounds. I've opened the windows and turned on the ceiling fan, never mind the cold, because the smell would knock a buzzard off a shit wagon. But they're inexpensive, he loves them, and they keep him occupied quietly if you need a couple of hours to work when he'd rather play.

As for Spain the Cat, she remains fluffy and spoiled - chasing sunbeams from room to room when she's not napping on the electric blanket. That we all should be so lucky in our golden years, eh?

Now, I suppose, I shall inflict some links upon you.
Are the Glory Days of Steampunk Over? First of all, Paul Goat Allen at B&N is amazing, and I adore him to high heaven. Second, the piece is almost so kind that I feel awkward linking it, but here you go. My humility lost its saving throw on this one.

Northwest Book Lovers - Interview with yours truly. Fabulous folks over there, and I thank them for taking the time to have me stop by for a visit.

15 Great 2012 Science Fiction/Fantasy Books to Read in 2013 - Geek Exchange tells you to go read The Inexplicables. You should totally listen to them.

Those Who Went Remain There Still - review #1 - This is an older one of mine, but here's the first of two new reviews that popped up recently. You can still buy this novella in audio and ebook form, but the original print run is sold out, I'm afraid. As a side note, I changed the name of the other family in the Coy feud...because I can prove I'm kin to the Coys, but not the other folks. Didn't want to get sued, natch.

And here's the second one - Courtesy of the folks at FantasyLiterature.com. Choice quote: "I highly recommend the audio version produced by Audible Frontiers and read by Marc Vietor and Eric Michael Summerer. The narrators are both spot-on with their Southern Gothic voices and this is one of those cases where I felt that the audio version might be even better than print. It’s a brilliant performance. You can listen to a sample at Amazon or Audible."

Happy Holidays

Logging off for the week, as we set off for Kentucky first thing in the morning. The house-sitters have been briefed, so all will be well here at the Tennessee homestead without us; and likewise all will be well once we reach the pet-grandparents in the Bluegrass State. In between here and there, though ... I predict barfing, yowling, and anxious drooling. Mostly from the animals.

All updates through next weekend are likely to occur only via Twitter . So stay tuned for tinsel, y'all...

You can be my full-time baby hot or cold

It's been a quiet handful of days, since the last post. We haven't been back to the dog park yet, largely because the weather has been awful - which wouldn't stop Greyson, God knows, but it stops us. Nasty weather means nothing to this dog, a fact which reinforces our suspicion that he's half Pyrenees - the spawn of a tractor-trailer lot guard dog and ... and ... whatever else came along that day.

He's got the Pyr's thick, fluffy, slightly wavy coat - complete with manly chest and neck ruff; he sports the extra toes (his 'double dews'); and he has that burly mountain-dog shape. As I keep telling people, he's a perfect half-scale model of a really freaking big dog.

As of his vet visit a few weeks ago,* he was nine months old and 68 pounds. But seeing whereas he barfed rather copiously in the car on the way there, I'm comfortable bumping that up to an even 70.

Not sure how big he'll be when he's all grown up, but we have a pool going. My fiver says he'll top out around 78-80 lbs. I suppose we shall see.

And because people have been asking, yes, Spain the Cat remains her spoiled, lazy little ol' self. She's perfectly tolerant of Greyson so long as he ignores her, and/or so long as we can't see them. More than once, I've overheard them amicably playing whatever version of "tag" they find entertaining, off in the guest bedroom ... only to have her start hissing at him the moment I poke my head in to see what's going on.

I try to leave them alone, to sort these things out between themselves. She still doesn't scratch him - she just soft-paws him when he oversteps his boundaries. He still tries to be her friend, though he (very) occasionally chases her around, steals her cheese crunchies, and helps himself to her food.

I think he only does the food thing because she's never actually caught him at it.

She once caught him waiting for her outside the litter box, and now he knows damn good and well he's not allowed into the laundry room, where the litter box sits. If he accidentally chases a toy into that forbidden space, he'll sit outside and whimper until you come and help him. It doesn't matter if the cat's asleep under the bed at the other end of the house ... she is the cat. And somehow she knows.

Anyway, here's my favorite recent picture of the two of them. I told Greyson to say "cheese." This is the face he always makes when he hears the word "cheese."



As for me, and what I've been up to ... the answer is mostly just "work." Since my last post I made some cookies (with some modest, if relative success) and packaged them up for a few neighbors and the mailman, answered some email interviews, conducted a bunch of long-distance business, and got to work on the Fiddlehead edits.

The edits are kind of kicking my ass, so my blogging may remain sporadic through the new year. If you're that desperate to keep up with my drinking, cat and dog pictures, video game musings, links, and announcements, you'll want to follow me on Twitter.

All the cool stuff turns up on Twitter first. (And usually, but not always, ends up cross-posted to my FB page.)

It's just so much easier than blogging. It's less like sitting down and trying to think of a few pithy paragraphs ... and more like yelling at a movie screen after a pair of martinis.

So in closing, here's a short video of Spainy bogarting one of the dog beds. Firmly. Happily. In a sunbeam.



Because when in doubt (or when in search of a closing thought) ... kitty.


* To address a minor skin condition and get a 'scrip for doggie Dramamine, natch.