Cherie Priest's Blog: It's awards season, so here comes the shameless self-promotion, page 48

She's been looking like a queen in a sailor's dream

Here's recent progress on my 19th century D.C. spy caper about a powerful Difference Engine that will end the Civil War - now with warhawk conspiracies, clockwork assassins, two presidents with more in common than they know, two spies with less in common than they think, a conflicted U.S. Marshal, and Bonus! not-at-all mad scientist who can save the world if someone will just give him a chance:
Project: Fiddlehead
Deadline: October 1, 2012
New words written: 5030 (not a terrible multi-day total, but not great)
Present total word count: 50,092 words





Things accomplished in fiction: Got the newspapers involved; took a red-eye train; ran into someone useful in Tennessee; learned the backstory of someone useful from previous books, who will turn up in this one.

Darling du Jour: "Well, the press is free - but some people think you get what you pay for.”

Things accomplished in real life: Daily jogs with the dog before breakfast; inexplicably split my favorite pair of jeans across the thigh while writing; cleaned up my front porch including the hanging flower baskets which had been woefully ignored; removed a tick from the dog's ear; gave the dog a whole bunch of cookies; threw away demolished dog bed; gave the dog more cookies; took the dog for a run lest he turn into a giant fatty; managed the garden.

Cat and Dog Relations: Improving, actually. They both want to hang out with me in the morning, and now will do so peacefully. Last night I heard them occupying the living room together without incident, after gunshots woke everyone up around 3:30 a.m. Still have no idea what that was about, but I'm told that the cops investigated and nothing came of it. (We have a gossipy neighborhood email list.)

Other: Forgot to mention this the other day, but Greyson graduated from Dog School! More precisely, he clep'd out of the Puppy 101 program (because he is brilliant and mostly very well behaved) and ultimately ran through the whole Adult Dog 101 curriculum. On command he will sit, lie down, come, "leave it," walk "loose-leash," greet friends and strangers without jumping, and even stay ... under some duress, we admit. "Stay" is hella-hard for a puppy. So now it's a matter of being consistent and insistent until he escapes Dog Adolescence and quits being an occasional butt-head.

Must have looked like I was dancing with the wall

To answer the most frequently asked question of the last few days: the kitten is now named "Greta," and she is doing marvelously well in her new home. Quoth her new mom, "...She is doing GREAT. She spent most of the [first] day hiding under the bed, but now she is rolling around in the middle of the living room attacking all her felt mice. She's also eaten as much this evening as she ate yesterday and this morning combined. She is sweet and social, very tolerant of curious friends who came hello and bring her toys picking her up and loving on her. She seems to be quickly accepting that her Wendy's days are far behind her."

* * *

The Clockwork Century books are coming to the UK ... with shiny new covers which you can see right here! Well, Boneshaker's cover is the same, but the others are a little different; and I think they're pretty darn cool.

* * *

Cat and dog are finding a way to coexist peacefully, even though the dog is sometimes a rather hilarious butthead. Like this morning, for instance. But the video is cute and funny, so I'm going to post it here.



(That was his first bed - the one he demolished immediately. It was a cheap jobbie from Ross, and knows he's allowed to play rough with it ... but I think now it probably needs to be thrown away. I have no sewing machine and no sewing skills, and now he's ripped the zipper out of it. I'll find him some other cheap one to destroy.)

* * *

That's all I've got for now. Must get to writing. You know how it goes. (But I did want to let everyone know that the Wendy's kitten was safely ensconced in a loving new home, and that everything is fine.)

Why I got exactly zero work done today

Fridays are usually low-word-count days, because on Friday I clean house. It's a hangup from being raised Adventist, I guess - but it's as good a day as any to get the homestead in order; so I go into Friday assuming that maybe I'll scrape together a thousand words, and I'll call it a win.

Not so today. Today started the usual way - Greyson wiggling happily beside my bed, snorfing me awake because OMG IT'S TIME FOR YOUR DOG TO GO PEE and I'm like, "Thanks for the heads up." We went for our usual walk, I fed the kitty and opened her curtains so she could have her sunbeam time, and I started the housework marathon.

Around noon, the husband and I decided to take a break and go grab some lunch. Wendy's sounded good, and we have one near by.

This fateful culinary decision turned our day up on its head.

We parked in the lot and walked toward the door, where we spotted ... something. Something about the size and texture of a child's winter mitten, blown up against the door jamb and inexplicably surrounded by French fries.* And we started walking slower ... and slower ... because something was not ... quite ... right about the mitten.

In fact, it was not a mitten. It only rhymed with mitten.

At first we thought it might be dead, and in pure horror, I reached down to touch it. It lifted its head and gazed at me with one eye, the other having swollen shut. It looked away despondently, gazed at the ground and sniffed listlessly at a French fry.

My husband freaked out. "JESUS CHRIST it's a KITTEN! What...what do we DO?" And I was all, "I DON'T KNOW!" but I knew we couldn't leave it there, so I picked it up and wrapped it in my sweater.**

We climbed back into the car, all plans of lunch aborted. The kitten didn't make a sound, except to sigh and settle down like this was only the most recent unexpected catastrophe in its short little life, and it figured all this would soon be over one way or another. So once we were seated, and we had successfully retrieved a not-dead but sick and injured kitten, we talked our way to the next obvious course of action: we drove over the river to Spainy's vet.

The Cat Clinic of Chattanooga is really the office of one single very nice vet, who was actually absent when we arrived. She'd had a hole in her schedule, so she'd run off to tackle an errand ... but the people who worked there gave her a call and she turned around and came straight back. God bless that woman, I mean seriously.

I won't bore you with the twenty minutes of terror, wondering if the FIV/FIP tests would come back negative - or if all we'd done was give this kitten a nicer place to die than a goddamn Wendy's; and I won't go into how calm and weak the kitten was, and how I was worried that one of its legs didn't work right, or how it finally started to purr in my lap.

I'll just give you the verdict and the end result: Tests came back negative. Female kitten, about 5 weeks old. Weighs one pound. Head/eye injury that had become infected. Bad case of fleas. Rather malnourished.

She is beautiful, though. Vet says that the stubby tail and head shape, combined with the excessive fluff, indicates some probable Persian ancestry someplace. The little girl was treated for fleas, worms, and the eye infection - and given her first round of kitten shots. And long story short, within a few hours of my frantically tweeting and FB'ing about the wee tiny newcomer ... she'd scored a home.

Her new mom comes to pick her up tomorrow afternoon, and in a funny turn of coincidence, she's the daughter of one of my professors at UTC.

So tonight I have a tiny gray fluff-bomb hanging out in my bathroom, tummy full of gooshy food, eye looking a bit better ... lounging on towels that are placed upon a heated tile floor. (I turned on the floor for the first time ever, because she didn't seem too interested in the bed we made for her.)

And all's well that ends well.
Except that I sure as shit didn't get any writing done.





* And this is what utterly broke my heart - someone had seen the kitten there, and had wanted to make a kind gesture, but it was so dumb and furthermore it meant that people had been walking by this injured, baby thing, and just LEAVING IT THERE for God knew how long. I still kind of want to cry just thinking about it.
** Yes, I brought a sweater. It's cold in that Wendy's.

Everywhere I go people know the part I'm playing

Here's recent progress on my 19th century D.C. spy caper about a powerful Difference Engine that will end the Civil War - now with warhawk conspiracies, clockwork assassins, two presidents with more in common than they know, two spies with less in common than they think, a conflicted U.S. Marshal, and Bonus! not-at-all mad scientist who can save the world if someone will just give him a chance:
Project: Fiddlehead
Deadline: October 1, 2012
New words written: 4754 (respectable 2-day total)
Present total word count: 45,062 words





Things accomplished in fiction: Informative, dangerous banter between one good guy and one bad woman; wrote a letter to the editor.

Things accomplished in real life: Daily jogs with the dog before breakfast; errand-running at Target; not insignificant yardwork, pruning back the rose tree, a massive mulberry, and a butterfly bush that desperately needed some containment; installed some awesome little solar LED lights around the back yard (found them for a little more than a dollar apiece on clearance at the aforementioned Target); cleaned and refilled bird baths and bird feeder; exchanged some important correspondence here and there; refereed cat and dog relations.

Cat and Dog Relations: The cat is perfectly content to live with the dog, so long as he doesn't actually try to touch her. This is tough for the puppy, who would give his great fluffy tail in order to lick her to pieces...but he's learning to give her some space, and I think she actually appreciates it.

Other: Figured out a BRILLIANT THING to solve a problem I was knocking my head against re: potential secret project. Am chuffed. Someone over on FB asked what, precisely, a potential secret project was. The answer is simple: it's a project I can't talk about, because it may or may not ever come to fruition. Right now this is Schrodinger's Project. I'll talk about it when and if I can, don't worry. But for now, I'm going to log off and get some supper...and then go fiddle around with it.

CATS AND DOGS LIVING TOGETHER

Here's recent progress on my 19th century D.C. spy caper about a powerful Difference Engine that will end the Civil War - now with warhawk conspiracies, clockwork assassins, two presidents with more in common than they know, two spies with less in common than they think, a conflicted U.S. Marshal, and Bonus! not-at-all mad scientist who can save the world if someone will just give him a chance:
Project: Fiddlehead
Deadline: October 1, 2012
New words written: 4280 (less good but not awful)
Present total word count: 40,308 words





Things accomplished in fiction: Firefight in a hospital; chase scene; revelation of secret papers that really tie the room together.

Things accomplished in real life: Daily jogs with the dog before breakfast; shopping with an old friend; un-jammed garbage disposal with a broom; several loads of laundry; mowed the back yard; handed in round #2 on a short story I owed George; took the Fabulous Pupster to the vet for the last of his puppy boosters and only got thrown up on a little bit; got pinged re: a secret project that, should it pan out, will be very cool - but will require some work over the next few weeks so I guess I'll shoehorn it in somehow.

Other: I realize this is a crap wordcount given the fact that I haven't posted in five days, but in my defense it (a). almost keeps up to the 1000 words-a-day minimum goal, and (b). I really did have to take care of a story that needed some major rewrites and a turn-around by Sunday night.*

Other Part Deux: The dog weighs 44 pounds at six months. The vet says maybe he'll top out around 60-65 pounds, but I think she might be crazypants because this dog is growing right in front of me. Seriously. Like, right now. I predict 75 pounds by his first birthday. I do admit, every day he looks less like a puppy and more like a dog. He's starting to take on that barrel-shaped chest and big woolly ruff of his mountain dog ancestors.

State of the Four-Footed Demographic: Continued holding pattern. Cat will deign to be in the same room with with the dog - and even eats/sleeps with him a few feet away, no problem - but still declines any overtures of friendship. So I got curious and decided to anoint the dog with catnip. Result: Sneezing, displeased dog. Largely unmoved cat affection. Though she will now let him snorfle up behind her and snuffle all over her butt without threatening to filet his face. Sometimes. So...progress?


* Not because the editor insisted, but because I really needed to keep the work-week free for Fiddlehead. So that story (which is about 7000 words) got to eat my Saturday, and I took ONE AFTERNOON OFF to go kick around town with a friend.

Falling on my head like a new emotion

Here's recent progress on my 19th century D.C. spy caper about a powerful Difference Engine that will end the Civil War - now with warhawk conspiracies, clockwork assassins, two presidents with more in common than they know, two spies with less in common than they think, a conflicted U.S. Marshal, and Bonus! not-at-all mad scientist who can save the world if someone will just give him a chance:
Project: Fiddlehead
Deadline: October 1, 2012
New words written: 5338 (even for 2 days - much better, now we're talking)
Present total word count: 36,028 words





Things accomplished in fiction: Consultation with great historic gent who serves as the voice of reason; car chase! Okay, ambulance chase, really. But you know.

Things accomplished in real life: Got up at 7:00 a.m. with the puppy, who badly needed to pee; fed all the critters breakfast; put on some yoga pants and sneakers and took the aforementioned puppy for a run;* did the dishes, made the bed; paid some bills; cleaned up some dog poop; watered the yard and thereby summoned the rain gods.

Other: For the last week it's been dark and stormy LOOKING. Without any actual rain over here. My garden was not happy, so I ran the sprinkler and then it started raining, because I am a wizard. By the way: It turns out that dogs are scared to death of sprinklers. Or maybe just my dog is scared to death of sprinklers. For dog reasons.

Other Part Deux: Yes, I'm wrapping up this project a little early today. I have a couple of shorter/smaller things I need to address, and I want to get a jump on them this afternoon.

State of the Four-Footed Demographic: Holding pattern. Cat avoids dog, more or less; dog tries very hard not to BARK WILDLY AT CAT and only somewhat succeeds. Watching him sniff along after her is like observing the world's most tense, furry game of red light/green light. She stops. He stops. She goes. He goes. She stops. He stops. Etc. until he loses his cool and starts barking/chasing her, and she runs under the bed. Sigh.


* When I spoke on FB re: running with puppy, I received some concern that I was overexerting the little guy. To be clear - I am a crappy runner who can't go more than a block or two at a stretch; we did maybe a mile in total, over about 30 minutes. And this is a 40+ pound puppy who would cheerfully run twice that distance, if I could keep up with him. Trust me. He's tried.

He'll fight like twenty armies and he won't give up

Here's recent progress on my 19th century D.C. spy caper about a powerful Difference Engine that will end the Civil War - now with warhawk conspiracies, clockwork assassins, two presidents with more in common than they know, two spies with less in common than they think, a conflicted U.S. Marshal, and Bonus! not-at-all mad scientist who can save the world if someone will just give him a chance:
Project: Fiddlehead
Deadline: October 1, 2012
New words written: 5264 (meh, for 5 days of work)
Present total word count: 30,690 words





Things accomplished in fiction: President Grant drinks because you people are horrible - yes, especially you, you war criminal who's getting a free pass when there's nothing he can do about it; two powerful women (who have nonetheless been dismissed by almost everyone) quietly join forces.

Things accomplished in real life: Housebroke a puppy - I'm now reasonably confident in claiming so, anyway, as it's been twelve days (out of only sixteen!) with pottying performed 100% out-of-doors, knock on wood; helped my cousin move out of her apartment; got into the habit of getting up early with the dog and taking him on a walk, so, like, EXERCISE or something on a daily basis; cleaned house top to bottom and it already needs it again; did a crap-ton of laundry, and need to do more; managed a host of important emails; paid a bunch of bills; ran a bunch of errands; lost one of my squash plants rather inexplicably; seem to have saved most of the tomatoes; accidentally nurtured a cucumber plant to what appears to be sentience and a desire to take over the world; treated the plants/bushes for a problem with mites and grubs; dried a batch of herbs from our garden (which I still need to process, natch); took a nap because I swear to God I could not keep my eyes open for another second.

Other: Somewhat unexpectedly, I'm really enjoying writing Ulysses S. Grant's POV sections. He got a bad rap as a president, but he was a brilliant soldier who (as far as I can tell) neither liked nor understood politics very well. Say what you will about the legacy of his corrupt administration, but I think that when he was able, he tried hard to do the right thing. The more I learn about him, the more I like him - and appreciate the difficulty of his position.* [As an aside, his memoirs - which were published by Mark Twain, of all people - are fascinating, if you're in to that kind of thing.]

State of the Four-Footed Demographic: Warily tolerant. Additional LOL - while on our walk this morning, Greyson met another kitty. She was tiny (maybe 6-7 pounds) and sweet, and very interested in making friends with my 40+ pound puppy ... who hid nervously behind me until the kitty demonstrated that she wasn't going to make any awful spitty noises at him. Actually, I think it kind of helped his interaction with Spainy today; he's been less prone to barking like a maniac when he sees her, and has been better about lying down and being quiet longer when she's present. Lesson learned: If you don't chase them and bark at them, they will let you sniff their butts and lick their heads. Sometimes.

Bonus Puppy Round: I was really very proud of him today. While getting myself a cup of water, I knocked over a wine glass; it shattered on the counter right in front of him, and glass went everywhere. At first I panicked, but then I gave him a "sit"/"lie down"/"stay" set of commands, and he performed like a champ - not moving until I gave him the all-clear. His "stay" is usually pretty shaky, so I was thrilled silly that when it really mattered, I could count on him to hold it. Good dog, Greyson! Very good dog.


* I was raised in a very THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN sort of family, so you can guess what I was taught about him.

I am writing

No, really. I have written. I wrote. And other assorted conjugations of the verb, too, I'll have you to know.

But I haven't really had time to post about all my awesome progress,* so instead I will give you a dog and cat video, wherein Greyson tries SO HARD to woo the kitty I mean REALLY REALLY HARD YOU GUYS for real he tries EVERYTHING even tunneling underneath her and SHOUTING IN HER FACE so honestly I have no idea why this attempt to charm her silly didn't work out so well.




* Let us say instead, "semi-awesome." My progress is respectable, but it won't blow your socks off.

No I would not give you false hope on this strange and mournful day

Here's recent progress on my 19th century D.C. spy caper about a powerful Difference Engine that will end the Civil War - now with warhawk conspiracies, clockwork assassins, two presidents with more in common than they know, two spies with less in common than they think, a conflicted U.S. Marshal, and Bonus! not-at-all mad scientist who can save the world if someone will just give him a chance:
Project: Fiddlehead
Deadline: October 1, 2012
New words written: 3736 (the low end of respectable)
Present total word count: 25,426 words





Things accomplished in fiction: Finished up a difficult chapter. Actually, this means I've wrapped up the last of the chapters that introduce all our players and their problems - and now the story gets launched in earnest. I say that as if we haven't already had explosions, sabotage, spies, attempted murders, kidnappings, and some righteous ass-kicking already. Just, you know. NOW I get to ramp it up FULL THROTTLE because previously the THROTTLE HAD NOT QUITE BEEN FULL.

Things accomplished in real life: Worked on the yard and in the garden, where I fear that some of the volunteer tomatoes are coming down with a fungal infection, as it's been very wet lately; I've already researched what can and can't be done for them so I am NOT ASKING FOR ADVICE at this time; received an herb-drying rack/hanger and now my kitchen smells great; went back and forth with my publicist re: that which is forthcoming for Inexplicables promotion and touring; answered many important emails; went to the grocery store; went to Lowe's; hung up windchimes out on the porch and they sound lovely right before it rains.

Other: You may notice above that the deadline has changed slightly. I asked the Mighty and Powerful Liz if I could talk her into just a couple extra weeks - which could well mean the difference between HERE IS A DRAFT I PULLED OUT OF MY ASS DOESN'T IT SMELL NICE? and HERE IS A DRAFT THAT WON'T MAKE YOU WANT TO PUSH ME OFF A CLIFF AND THEN GO WASH YOUR HANDS. It's only two weeks, but it's an important two weeks. It means I have two whole months to write the rest of this book. I want to do it well, and a half gasp's worth of breathing room will help.

Return of Other: Tomorrow will undoubtedly be a low- or- no wordcount day because I've promised to go help my very pregnant cousin move - and then tomorrow night, I'll be recording a podcast with some other fine folks. So my hopes for writing productivity are not terribly high. Note that when I say "I have nothing to work on except for Fiddlehead, yay!" ... that this is what I really mean. Nothing except real life and writer business, which often interferes with writing because otherwise irony? what irony?

State of the Four-Footed Demographic: Improving. Noses have touched. Butts have been sniffed. Unfortunately, this means that Greyson thinks he and the kitty are Totally Friends Now ... while the kitty thinks they are just Roommates Who Require a Lot of Personal Space, Thanks. She's tolerant of him - and even cautiously curious about him - so long as he is quiet and calm; but seeing whereas he's a puppy, "quiet and calm" are EXTREMELY DIFFICULT when there is a KITTY ABOUT SIX INCHES AWAY and then IMMA LEAP INTO THE AIR AND SQUASH THE KITTY BETWEEN MY PAWS SO I CAN LICK IT LICK IT LICK IT OW OW OW MY NOSE WHY GOD WHY?

State of the Four-Footed Demographic - the Sequel: Today is Day 6 of exactly ZERO inappropriate pottying indoors. Assuming this is not just a streak but a lifestyle choice, that means it took exactly four days to housebreak him. He also can sit on cue, shake ("high fives"), come when called, "leave it," and go to the door and bark when he needs to go outside for a widdle. AND HE'S NOT EVEN SIX MONTHS OLD. He might actually be a dog genius. [Edited to add: Here's a video, wherein he demonstrates some of his dog genius skills, lest you think I am making this up.]

State of the Four-Footed Demographic - the Remake: I am arbitrarily setting his birthday at Valentine's Day. We know it was sometime in the middle or end of February, so why not? In other news, we have now left him alone in the house with the kitty TWICE for about an hour at a time; and we've come home to ... nothing but a napping dog and cat. No puddles, no dumps, nothing destroyed. Seriously you guys, THIS DOG. Ah. May. Zeeng. As for the kitty, she is lying beside me at present with her feet shoved up against my ribcage. She is snoring heartily. Trauma level: Meh.

The end of the beginning

Here's recent progress on my 19th century D.C. spy caper about a powerful Difference Engine that will end the Civil War - now with warhawk conspiracies, clockwork assassins, two presidents with more in common than they know, two spies with less in common than they think, a conflicted U.S. Marshal, and Bonus! not-at-all mad scientist who can save the world if someone will just give him a chance:
Project: Fiddlehead
Deadline: September 15, 2012 (LOOK WHO ISN'T PANICKING)
New words written: 7865 (ye gods this is awful)
Present total word count: 21,510 words





Things accomplished in fiction: All the players are in place, conspiracies are established, allies aren't always friends - and the reverse.

Things accomplished in real life: Finished up travel, sent all houseguests home, and then invited a four-footed one to come stay on a permanent basis. BUT NOW, NO FOR SERIOUS - STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT - I am on the daily writing pony (his name is Fred) and you can expect decent metrics henceforth, because baby, it is death-march time.

In My Defense: I am very, very happy with what I have so far. I've spent the last couple of work-days revisiting the first few chapters and making sure everything works - fixing what doesn't, re-jiggering a few characters, and sorting out what people's actual motivations are, as opposed to their apparent ones. The last couple of projects I've gotten underway ... I didn't do this to a sufficient degree, and my drafts suffered for them. This time, I really do feel like I'm building the novel on a solid-ass bedrock of Plot That Makes Sense.

Other: I bet you thought Plot That Makes Sense was like, step one or something. HA. That is step If I Get Around To it, also known as, step My Editor Will Kill Me If I Don't Fix This Before She Sees It.

Bride of Other: As for the cat and dog, slowly but surely they are making peace. Or collaborating on my demise. Hard to tell. If you want more regular dog updates and pictures - by which I mean, if you want to get absolutely sick of dog updates and pictures - keep an eye on my Twitter account.

Son of Other: Look, I tried to restrain myself from posting a puppy video but I think we all know what my self-control is like these days, so here you go.