K.C. Shaw's Blog, page 17
September 17, 2011
Exhaustion and bliss
We've moved to our new house. We've moved! And for the first time since Mom's stroke on June 23, I will sleep in my very own bed tonight, on my very own sheets, with my very own pillow, and all my belongings around me. Yes, most of my belongings are in boxes or crammed into the closet for sorting later, and I can't find a blanket anywhere in this whole house, but I don't care.
Mostly what I have in my room is books. I was excited because I finally have all three of my bookcases in my room at once--before, one of the big bookcases was downstairs with Mom's books in it. Finally I would have room for every one of my books! But when I unpacked the 15 or 16 boxes of books and crammed them willy-nilly into the shelves...they only just fit. Dammit. I still need more shelves.
Mostly what I have in my room is books. I was excited because I finally have all three of my bookcases in my room at once--before, one of the big bookcases was downstairs with Mom's books in it. Finally I would have room for every one of my books! But when I unpacked the 15 or 16 boxes of books and crammed them willy-nilly into the shelves...they only just fit. Dammit. I still need more shelves.
September 11, 2011
Oh, editing, how I despise you
I meant to work on my Weredeer edits this weekend, but we're closing on the new house Thursday so the weekend was filled with last-minute packing and cleaning and perusing of paint swatch cards. Also, it rained a lot today and Mom wanted to drive around in the rain. Until we move, she's lamentably divorced from the full effects of weather. She's the kind of person who sleeps with her bedroom window propped open a little no matter how cold or hot it is out, and who sleeps with her head as close to the window as possible (in our old house, she actually slept with her head at the foot of the bed for just that reason). Now we're staying with my aunt and uncle, and the windows in her room don't open and are too well insulated for her to even hear the rain.
I'm about a third through the edits. They take soooooo looooong and I have to cooooncentrate on them, dammit. And I've recharged from writing Misfits this summer and I think I'm ready to write again rather than edit. My attention veers from finishing Adventures in Zoology to finishing the major rewrite of The Trickster Society to finishing the tail-end of Bloodhound. My interest in editing anything is at an all-time low. Yet, edit I must.
Also, I'm way behind in my reading. Why are there so few hours in the day?
Part of the problem is that I'm back at work now, which I hate. I mean, I hate having to work anyway, and I hate having to leave Mom during the day (although she's doing much better and her main problem is boredom), but I also hate that there are certain things I can't do while I'm at work. Like editing.
I'm about a third through the edits. They take soooooo looooong and I have to cooooncentrate on them, dammit. And I've recharged from writing Misfits this summer and I think I'm ready to write again rather than edit. My attention veers from finishing Adventures in Zoology to finishing the major rewrite of The Trickster Society to finishing the tail-end of Bloodhound. My interest in editing anything is at an all-time low. Yet, edit I must.
Also, I'm way behind in my reading. Why are there so few hours in the day?
Part of the problem is that I'm back at work now, which I hate. I mean, I hate having to work anyway, and I hate having to leave Mom during the day (although she's doing much better and her main problem is boredom), but I also hate that there are certain things I can't do while I'm at work. Like editing.
September 4, 2011
Home again
I haven't updated or tweeted since I left for DragonCon because it turned out that the Westin Peachtree does not have free wifi access for guests. I wasn't able to check my email for days! Not that I had any emails when I got back, but it's the principle of the thing.
Anyway, I did have a little journal with me, so I kept a running account of my days. And here it is, unedited, so if something doesn't make any sense that's why.
Sept. 2, 6pm
Fuck no, I'm not paying $15 a day for wifi access, not when the hotel room is almost $200 a night and valet parking is $26. Last time I was in Atlanta I stayed at a piece of shit motel in Marietta for $85 a night and wifi was free. It sucked, but it was free.
I have given blood. It hurt. I gave blood to kill an hour before the 5:30 pm panels, and it took so long I missed them and now have another hour to kill before 7pm. I am hungry and have no internet access. This is dreadful.
I plan to steal all the hotel room's little soaps. No free wifi my ass.
Sept. 2, 8:25pm
I just attended the wrong panel. Like, a a million percent wrong. I got in the wrong line and instead of seeing Ghost Hunters, I learned all about a new Xbox shooter game called, um, Gears of War 3, I think. Apparently many people are enthusiastic. The guy running it was kind of funny, at least. I did not get a T-shirt.
I've now made it to a panel on writing deadlines one I'd intended to attend. Whether it will be as dull as I suspect remains to be seen. I do expect it to make me feel guilty about not working on the Weredeer edits that are so, so very overdue.
Peanut M&Ms have more protein than this granola bar I don't want to eat.
Sept. 2, 11:45pm
In the bath. I am fighting an inexplicable desire to put my clothes back on and go out to get drunk. Or find a tattoo parlor. Or both.
I saw Kevin and met his wife Felicity, who seems very nice. Kevin introduced me to several people whose names I have (predictably) not retained even after I just saw them 15 minutes ago. They were also quite pleasant people. We all attended a Skeptic Track panel on Vampires and Ghosts that was interesting and fun, then walked back to the hotel via skybridges.
Sky bridges.
I am so tired my eyes feel dry and I keep blinking. Every so often I think, "I should take my contacts out." I am not wearing contacts.
I am looking forward to sleeping in a grown-up sized bed for the first time since Mom went into the hospital in June. I hope she's doing okay. I hope she had a good supper and wasn't too bored or worried while I was gone.
Oh, great, now I'm crying. Good thing I'm not drunk.
The deadlines panel was interesting. I even ASKED A QUESTION about scheduling when it's edits and not new writing, and all five panelists said edits can only really be dealt with by dropping everything else to focus on them. So I will get on that as soon as I can, which feels like it will be never.
I got a T-shirt for giving blood. It saved me $30 to buy a con T-shirt. I will probably wear it tomorrow because I feel boring without a costume or a T-shirt with words on it.
Very few hot men in kilts this year, which is disappointing. I saw a freakishly good Snape on the way back to the hotel tonight. Like, he actually did not look like he was wearing a costume. Don't know how to describe the difference between "this is a costume" and "these are my clothes." Also I liked his hair, which was likewise not costume hair. But mostly he just looked kind of tired, which nailed it.
Tomorrow morning I hope to spend some time in Starbucks before the parade, enjoying the free wifi OH RIGHT. Enjoying writing more in this book, which is free, and drinking a vanilla bean frapuccino, which is $5 off if I decline maid service tomorrow, which I will because A) I am not a slob and B) there are two beds.
Sept. 3, 8:45 am
Vanilla bean acquired. I woke up with a headache and haggish bags under my eyes, which is just not fair sine I didn't go out drinking last night. I put on too much makeup to compensate.
Kevin and I have left each other one voicemail so far this morning. At least I know they're up.
This cheese danish is tasteless except for the cheese part, which tastes like sugar. Starbucks does not understand food.
Sept. 3, 11:20 am
The parade was fun even though it was hot and crowded and my feet hurt and I couldn't see very well. The steampunk X-Men were my favorites. Overheard: "The Netherworld people are scary. They're actors so they're even scarier than usual. They're scary without costumes." It feels good to sit down for a few minutes. I may get lunch somewhere after this, maybe something to go so I can take it back to my hotel room and check my email NO I GUESS NOT. Kevin said he thinks there's a cafe or someplace with free wifi around here, but even if I could remember what he'd told me it was called, I'd never be able to find it. Maybe I'll go to that Pratchett panel at 1pm instead of lunch. Or maybe I'll just pick a panel at random and see what it's about.
On the other hand, I really, really want a piece of pizza and an ice cold Coke.
Sept. 3, 1:10 pm
I am full of adequate burrito and Coke. The line for pizza was too long. I have found a corner on the floor just behind a pillar in the skywalk area between the mall food court and the Marriott. I can watch people as they stream pass and no one bothers me or (so far) trips over me.
The Women in SF/F panel was good but left me irritated. It was all about how to fit in, ultimately, and a lot of that seemed to boil down to "things you can do to keep men from bothering you or how to manipulate them." Also, dress nice because you're a professional. I'm all for professionalism but if I can't stand or fall by my writing alone--no trappings, not even a flask of scotch--I don't want in. Most readers do not give a tiny little rat-sized shit if I wear a costume or a nice outfit to cons, or even if I attend cons. I think a lot of writers take themselves way too seriously.
You know what would have been great with this burrito? A beer. I don't even drink beer. I've been possessed by an alcoholic, an ineffective one since I'm drinking Coke.
Kevin said he didn't get in overnight until about 4am. It must be nice to be an extravert. He knows everyone.
I hope Mom's okay.
Sept. 3, 2:25pm
I have spent money. I got my nephew a gift at the dealer's room, so that's one Xmas present sorted. I also found myself a purple necklace of plastic dice, a la Mardi Gras beads, to use as a lanyard for my badge.
Now I made it just in time to an Archetypes in YA lit panel. It's surprisingly full, this room.
Now that I have spent some of my cash, I am burning to spend more. Good thing I plan to attend panels until I fall down from exhaustion today.
They give out prizes in this panel, apparently. Maybe that's why it's so full. I would like another T-shirt, but I never win things.
The next panel I want to attend is also in this room. Good thing, since it was very hard to find. Of course, I find everywhere hard to find.
Sept. 3, 3:40pm
I won a book! Fancy that. The Lightning Thief, which I've never read.
I now have a pretzel and a Coke. What was I thinking? I'm not hungry. And it cost $5, which is just crazy. And an hour ago I was actually feeling a little sick from that gigantic burrito.
Some sort of emergency warning sounded during the last panel, but nothing came of it. It woke me up, though. The panel wasn't boring, but I am definitely flagging. I'm not used to so much activity these days; for two months plus I've been mostly sitting quietly with Mom or having small adventures with her, like going to Target or to a movie.
But I am enjoying myself enormously. It's a similar energy here to the start of a new fall semester, but without the stress.
I wonder if I could get a tattoo before I leave Atlanta.
Sept. 3, 7pm
This pen is running
Sept. 3, 9:35 pm
It feels much later than that. I ducked out of the 8:30pm panel I attended--it wasn't what I expected, since the SF/F lit track schedule was FUBARed this afternoon. I missed the What Women Want panel that was the one I really, really wanted to attend, because they moved it up unexpectedly.
So anyway, I ducked out of the 8:30 panel early, found my way back to the Westin and to my room, and dumped most of my stuff, and packed up my laptop so I wouldn't forget it tomorrow. I'd sweated most of my makeup off, not that it makes much difference, so I slapped some powder on and went downstairs to the lobby to sit and catch this account up. I have a bottle of water and some chocolate. No booze--because I don't really want to sit here by myself and drink, and anyway I've spent too much already.
I don't want to go up to bed. It's still pretty early, and once I go to bed DragonCon is over for me. I'm going home tomorrow morning early. Real life is intruding on my little vacation: Tuesday Mom has chemo, and Wednesday I have to return to work after my leave of absence. I'd much rather hold on to the last few hours of DragonCon instead.
I wonder if they sell nachos at the bar. I am more likely to find nachos than a tattoo parlor. I can't really go out and get a tattoo at home--well, I could but I wouldn't, but on an outing like this if I came back with a tattoo people would raise their eyebrows but not be too surprised.
Not that I really care. I just wouldn't do it under normal circumstances.
How did I get on the topic of tattoos?
You know, this hotel building is really unsettlingly large. It's round, and there are a bunch of truly enormous pillars that are probably holding up all those dozens and dozens of floors above.
There's not much going on in this hotel. I could go to the Marriott and look at costumes for a while, but there's nowhere to sit and I'm tired. I suspect it won't be long before I give up and go to bed.
Ordinarily I'd be online right now but, you know. I do forgive the Westin slightly for no free wifi because the beds are so, so comfortable and the soap I have stolen is green and shaped like a leaf.
I cannot tell if the group of Asian men in identical pilot uniforms over there are actually pilots or if they're costumed as pilots. One of the panelists earlier today said she ran into a baffled hotel guest from France at the zombie walk who asked her, "Is this some sort of ceremony?"
I think they're real pilots. They all have suitcases like they just arrived. I wonder what they make of the people in con garb.
Maybe they think all Americans dress like this every day.
I kind of wish we did.
Sept. 4, 9am
I woke to a white morning sky and decided just to leave although it was still early. When Kevin called I'd already been on the road for almost an hour, weeping gently and listening to Silly Wizard's "The Queen of Argyll" over and over. I decided I'd better stop for breakfast. The maudlin was too overwhelming without eggs and orange juice. And grits. I stopped at a Waffle House. I think I'm only about 30-45 minutes from Chattanooga.
Anyway, I did have a little journal with me, so I kept a running account of my days. And here it is, unedited, so if something doesn't make any sense that's why.
Sept. 2, 6pm
Fuck no, I'm not paying $15 a day for wifi access, not when the hotel room is almost $200 a night and valet parking is $26. Last time I was in Atlanta I stayed at a piece of shit motel in Marietta for $85 a night and wifi was free. It sucked, but it was free.
I have given blood. It hurt. I gave blood to kill an hour before the 5:30 pm panels, and it took so long I missed them and now have another hour to kill before 7pm. I am hungry and have no internet access. This is dreadful.
I plan to steal all the hotel room's little soaps. No free wifi my ass.
Sept. 2, 8:25pm
I just attended the wrong panel. Like, a a million percent wrong. I got in the wrong line and instead of seeing Ghost Hunters, I learned all about a new Xbox shooter game called, um, Gears of War 3, I think. Apparently many people are enthusiastic. The guy running it was kind of funny, at least. I did not get a T-shirt.
I've now made it to a panel on writing deadlines one I'd intended to attend. Whether it will be as dull as I suspect remains to be seen. I do expect it to make me feel guilty about not working on the Weredeer edits that are so, so very overdue.
Peanut M&Ms have more protein than this granola bar I don't want to eat.
Sept. 2, 11:45pm
In the bath. I am fighting an inexplicable desire to put my clothes back on and go out to get drunk. Or find a tattoo parlor. Or both.
I saw Kevin and met his wife Felicity, who seems very nice. Kevin introduced me to several people whose names I have (predictably) not retained even after I just saw them 15 minutes ago. They were also quite pleasant people. We all attended a Skeptic Track panel on Vampires and Ghosts that was interesting and fun, then walked back to the hotel via skybridges.
Sky bridges.
I am so tired my eyes feel dry and I keep blinking. Every so often I think, "I should take my contacts out." I am not wearing contacts.
I am looking forward to sleeping in a grown-up sized bed for the first time since Mom went into the hospital in June. I hope she's doing okay. I hope she had a good supper and wasn't too bored or worried while I was gone.
Oh, great, now I'm crying. Good thing I'm not drunk.
The deadlines panel was interesting. I even ASKED A QUESTION about scheduling when it's edits and not new writing, and all five panelists said edits can only really be dealt with by dropping everything else to focus on them. So I will get on that as soon as I can, which feels like it will be never.
I got a T-shirt for giving blood. It saved me $30 to buy a con T-shirt. I will probably wear it tomorrow because I feel boring without a costume or a T-shirt with words on it.
Very few hot men in kilts this year, which is disappointing. I saw a freakishly good Snape on the way back to the hotel tonight. Like, he actually did not look like he was wearing a costume. Don't know how to describe the difference between "this is a costume" and "these are my clothes." Also I liked his hair, which was likewise not costume hair. But mostly he just looked kind of tired, which nailed it.
Tomorrow morning I hope to spend some time in Starbucks before the parade, enjoying the free wifi OH RIGHT. Enjoying writing more in this book, which is free, and drinking a vanilla bean frapuccino, which is $5 off if I decline maid service tomorrow, which I will because A) I am not a slob and B) there are two beds.
Sept. 3, 8:45 am
Vanilla bean acquired. I woke up with a headache and haggish bags under my eyes, which is just not fair sine I didn't go out drinking last night. I put on too much makeup to compensate.
Kevin and I have left each other one voicemail so far this morning. At least I know they're up.
This cheese danish is tasteless except for the cheese part, which tastes like sugar. Starbucks does not understand food.
Sept. 3, 11:20 am
The parade was fun even though it was hot and crowded and my feet hurt and I couldn't see very well. The steampunk X-Men were my favorites. Overheard: "The Netherworld people are scary. They're actors so they're even scarier than usual. They're scary without costumes." It feels good to sit down for a few minutes. I may get lunch somewhere after this, maybe something to go so I can take it back to my hotel room and check my email NO I GUESS NOT. Kevin said he thinks there's a cafe or someplace with free wifi around here, but even if I could remember what he'd told me it was called, I'd never be able to find it. Maybe I'll go to that Pratchett panel at 1pm instead of lunch. Or maybe I'll just pick a panel at random and see what it's about.
On the other hand, I really, really want a piece of pizza and an ice cold Coke.
Sept. 3, 1:10 pm
I am full of adequate burrito and Coke. The line for pizza was too long. I have found a corner on the floor just behind a pillar in the skywalk area between the mall food court and the Marriott. I can watch people as they stream pass and no one bothers me or (so far) trips over me.
The Women in SF/F panel was good but left me irritated. It was all about how to fit in, ultimately, and a lot of that seemed to boil down to "things you can do to keep men from bothering you or how to manipulate them." Also, dress nice because you're a professional. I'm all for professionalism but if I can't stand or fall by my writing alone--no trappings, not even a flask of scotch--I don't want in. Most readers do not give a tiny little rat-sized shit if I wear a costume or a nice outfit to cons, or even if I attend cons. I think a lot of writers take themselves way too seriously.
You know what would have been great with this burrito? A beer. I don't even drink beer. I've been possessed by an alcoholic, an ineffective one since I'm drinking Coke.
Kevin said he didn't get in overnight until about 4am. It must be nice to be an extravert. He knows everyone.
I hope Mom's okay.
Sept. 3, 2:25pm
I have spent money. I got my nephew a gift at the dealer's room, so that's one Xmas present sorted. I also found myself a purple necklace of plastic dice, a la Mardi Gras beads, to use as a lanyard for my badge.
Now I made it just in time to an Archetypes in YA lit panel. It's surprisingly full, this room.
Now that I have spent some of my cash, I am burning to spend more. Good thing I plan to attend panels until I fall down from exhaustion today.
They give out prizes in this panel, apparently. Maybe that's why it's so full. I would like another T-shirt, but I never win things.
The next panel I want to attend is also in this room. Good thing, since it was very hard to find. Of course, I find everywhere hard to find.
Sept. 3, 3:40pm
I won a book! Fancy that. The Lightning Thief, which I've never read.
I now have a pretzel and a Coke. What was I thinking? I'm not hungry. And it cost $5, which is just crazy. And an hour ago I was actually feeling a little sick from that gigantic burrito.
Some sort of emergency warning sounded during the last panel, but nothing came of it. It woke me up, though. The panel wasn't boring, but I am definitely flagging. I'm not used to so much activity these days; for two months plus I've been mostly sitting quietly with Mom or having small adventures with her, like going to Target or to a movie.
But I am enjoying myself enormously. It's a similar energy here to the start of a new fall semester, but without the stress.
I wonder if I could get a tattoo before I leave Atlanta.
Sept. 3, 7pm
This pen is running
Sept. 3, 9:35 pm
It feels much later than that. I ducked out of the 8:30pm panel I attended--it wasn't what I expected, since the SF/F lit track schedule was FUBARed this afternoon. I missed the What Women Want panel that was the one I really, really wanted to attend, because they moved it up unexpectedly.
So anyway, I ducked out of the 8:30 panel early, found my way back to the Westin and to my room, and dumped most of my stuff, and packed up my laptop so I wouldn't forget it tomorrow. I'd sweated most of my makeup off, not that it makes much difference, so I slapped some powder on and went downstairs to the lobby to sit and catch this account up. I have a bottle of water and some chocolate. No booze--because I don't really want to sit here by myself and drink, and anyway I've spent too much already.
I don't want to go up to bed. It's still pretty early, and once I go to bed DragonCon is over for me. I'm going home tomorrow morning early. Real life is intruding on my little vacation: Tuesday Mom has chemo, and Wednesday I have to return to work after my leave of absence. I'd much rather hold on to the last few hours of DragonCon instead.
I wonder if they sell nachos at the bar. I am more likely to find nachos than a tattoo parlor. I can't really go out and get a tattoo at home--well, I could but I wouldn't, but on an outing like this if I came back with a tattoo people would raise their eyebrows but not be too surprised.
Not that I really care. I just wouldn't do it under normal circumstances.
How did I get on the topic of tattoos?
You know, this hotel building is really unsettlingly large. It's round, and there are a bunch of truly enormous pillars that are probably holding up all those dozens and dozens of floors above.
There's not much going on in this hotel. I could go to the Marriott and look at costumes for a while, but there's nowhere to sit and I'm tired. I suspect it won't be long before I give up and go to bed.
Ordinarily I'd be online right now but, you know. I do forgive the Westin slightly for no free wifi because the beds are so, so comfortable and the soap I have stolen is green and shaped like a leaf.
I cannot tell if the group of Asian men in identical pilot uniforms over there are actually pilots or if they're costumed as pilots. One of the panelists earlier today said she ran into a baffled hotel guest from France at the zombie walk who asked her, "Is this some sort of ceremony?"
I think they're real pilots. They all have suitcases like they just arrived. I wonder what they make of the people in con garb.
Maybe they think all Americans dress like this every day.
I kind of wish we did.
Sept. 4, 9am
I woke to a white morning sky and decided just to leave although it was still early. When Kevin called I'd already been on the road for almost an hour, weeping gently and listening to Silly Wizard's "The Queen of Argyll" over and over. I decided I'd better stop for breakfast. The maudlin was too overwhelming without eggs and orange juice. And grits. I stopped at a Waffle House. I think I'm only about 30-45 minutes from Chattanooga.
September 1, 2011
Ready, set
I spent the day going going going. Not only did Mom have a doctor's appointment and her weekly labwork today, but I had to get ready for DragonCon. Getting ready, in my case, included washing the car, doing laundry, cleaning Mom's bathroom, getting all her pills set out for the time I'm gone so she'll know exactly what to take when, getting a haircut, grocery shopping, packing, getting directions to the hotel, and charging my phone. Yes, I did all that AND MORE. Tomorrow I just have to do more laundry, clean the kitchen, and take the trash out. I plan to leave for Atlanta around noon, maybe eleven.
Mom told me today, sternly, not to worry about her. Both her sisters and a brother-in-law are going to be around to keep an eye on her. Plus, of course, she's perfectly capable of doing most things herself.
So I'm going to do my best not to worry about her while I'm gone. I promised her! And then she said, "But please be careful and don't get into a wreck, or lose your car key, or get your purse stolen."
Mom, don't worry about me!
Mom told me today, sternly, not to worry about her. Both her sisters and a brother-in-law are going to be around to keep an eye on her. Plus, of course, she's perfectly capable of doing most things herself.
So I'm going to do my best not to worry about her while I'm gone. I promised her! And then she said, "But please be careful and don't get into a wreck, or lose your car key, or get your purse stolen."
Mom, don't worry about me!
August 28, 2011
So, about that vacation
Mom and I were planning to go to DragonCon together this Labor Day. We have our passes and the hotel room booked. Mom, however, doesn't want to try to go--she gets tired easily now and would be so worn out from the drive down that she thinks she wouldn't be able to enjoy the con. But she wants me to go by myself.
I'm hesitant about that, but she insists she'll be okay. And she is getting around much better now and doesn't need me hovering over her. She'll also have both her sisters around to make sure she takes her meds on time and gets decent meals and so forth. I don't need to worry. But, of course, I will.
In fact, I'm so worried that I'm dreading leaving rather than looking forward to the con. I'll only be gone two nights and one full day, plus two partial days--I'm leaving Friday afternoon and will ideally arrive home by around noon on Sunday. That's not long. But Mom has a doctor's appointment Thursday and her next chemo Tuesday, and on Wednesday--ugh ugh ugh--I have to return to work. And we're still packing up to move house. I just don't have time to take off for a weekend.
But, you know, I think it will be good for me.
I'm hesitant about that, but she insists she'll be okay. And she is getting around much better now and doesn't need me hovering over her. She'll also have both her sisters around to make sure she takes her meds on time and gets decent meals and so forth. I don't need to worry. But, of course, I will.
In fact, I'm so worried that I'm dreading leaving rather than looking forward to the con. I'll only be gone two nights and one full day, plus two partial days--I'm leaving Friday afternoon and will ideally arrive home by around noon on Sunday. That's not long. But Mom has a doctor's appointment Thursday and her next chemo Tuesday, and on Wednesday--ugh ugh ugh--I have to return to work. And we're still packing up to move house. I just don't have time to take off for a weekend.
But, you know, I think it will be good for me.
August 27, 2011
I posted!
The days are rolling along so fast I can't keep up. I didn't even realize I hadn't posted for weeks.
I got a new laptop, too, so I have no excuse. I liked my little Asus eee PC netbook so much, but it was starting to really tear up--garbage screens occasionally, the second keyboard is going out again, etc. It was time for another one, and I decided to go for another Asus netbook, but a bigger one. The timing was perfect, since I got royalties from DDP that came close to paying for it a few weeks ago.
Speaking of Double Dragon Press, I went ahead and sent them Evil Outfitters, Ltd, and they accepted it already. I don't have time to self-publish anything right now, and I'm doing very well with that publisher.
I still haven't heard from Angry Robot about Bell-Men. From what I hear, only about 25 manuscripts were moved up to editorial, so I'm in a rare group. But they can't accept all 25--they may not accept any, who knows?--and I expect to be rejected in the fullness of time. Since I can't interest an agent even at this stage, it's possible DDP will get Bell-Men eventually.
I got a new laptop, too, so I have no excuse. I liked my little Asus eee PC netbook so much, but it was starting to really tear up--garbage screens occasionally, the second keyboard is going out again, etc. It was time for another one, and I decided to go for another Asus netbook, but a bigger one. The timing was perfect, since I got royalties from DDP that came close to paying for it a few weeks ago.
Speaking of Double Dragon Press, I went ahead and sent them Evil Outfitters, Ltd, and they accepted it already. I don't have time to self-publish anything right now, and I'm doing very well with that publisher.
I still haven't heard from Angry Robot about Bell-Men. From what I hear, only about 25 manuscripts were moved up to editorial, so I'm in a rare group. But they can't accept all 25--they may not accept any, who knows?--and I expect to be rejected in the fullness of time. Since I can't interest an agent even at this stage, it's possible DDP will get Bell-Men eventually.
August 7, 2011
Misfits
I finished Misfits tonight. It's just under 86,000 words. That's a lot more than I intended, but I'm sure I can cut 5,000 words easily and probably 10,000 words if necessary.
I like it. It's not perfect, and I want to set it aside for a while to ripen while I work on other things, but I like it. And it's done. I've written 86k words in about two months. Not NaNoWriMo speed, but not bad--especially considering most of it was written while I sat by my mom's hospital bed.
Next I have to finish Bloodhound, although I've got edits still pending that have got to be done first. The problem with edits is that I have to do them at my desktop, and I don't have a lot of desktop time under ordinary circumstances. I'll just have to grab half an hour here and there instead of trying to work on the edits in big chunks of time. Maybe that'll make them easier, actually.
I like it. It's not perfect, and I want to set it aside for a while to ripen while I work on other things, but I like it. And it's done. I've written 86k words in about two months. Not NaNoWriMo speed, but not bad--especially considering most of it was written while I sat by my mom's hospital bed.
Next I have to finish Bloodhound, although I've got edits still pending that have got to be done first. The problem with edits is that I have to do them at my desktop, and I don't have a lot of desktop time under ordinary circumstances. I'll just have to grab half an hour here and there instead of trying to work on the edits in big chunks of time. Maybe that'll make them easier, actually.
August 3, 2011
It's the little things that get you down.
The situation:
1. The house Mom and I rent together has stairs, and after her stroke she has a lot of trouble with stairs.
2. We're staying with her sister, my aunt, until we can buy/rent a house all on one level.
3. I have keys to my aunt's house.
4. I forgot those keys today.
5. At about noon today I discovered we were locked out.
6. We are now spending the afternoon at our old house, which is fine for me since I have no trouble with stairs. Mom is less thrilled, although she's lying on the couch watching a movie and drinking a Gatorade, so I don't feel quite as guilty as I did.
But now I feel guilty for being upstairs at my computer while Mom's stuck downstairs. A few months ago that was the norm--not Mom stuck downstairs, but Mom preferring to hang out in the living room while I'm on my computer. It feels normal to me right now that I'm blogging and I can hear the Lord of the Rings music downstairs. Then I realize I need to check on Mom to make sure she doesn't need anything. Then I feel bad for feeling so content at having a chunk of computer time.
Anyway, I'm at 72,000 words on Misfits and closing in on the end. All I have left to write is the main character's date with his new girlfriend and the big scene where a friend of his needs his help, then a scene of reconciliation between two estranged friends. Hmm, that sounds like more than I thought. It'll probably go over 75,000 words, but then again it's not like I need to keep the wordcount low.
I'm not sure about Misfits. I really like it, and I think it's a good book, but I've also stopped believing I'm ever going to get an agent or sell a book to a big publisher. Misfits is a YA book with no speculative elements at all, with a central theme of the bonds of friendship--but it's got strong LGBT themes, which means it's destined for a small publisher no matter how good it is. And I don't know anymore how good a writer I am. Last week I started rereading The Taste of Magic, a book I only wrote a few years ago and which was just published last month, and I couldn't even finish it. I didn't like my own writing style. I don't know what to make of that.
1. The house Mom and I rent together has stairs, and after her stroke she has a lot of trouble with stairs.
2. We're staying with her sister, my aunt, until we can buy/rent a house all on one level.
3. I have keys to my aunt's house.
4. I forgot those keys today.
5. At about noon today I discovered we were locked out.
6. We are now spending the afternoon at our old house, which is fine for me since I have no trouble with stairs. Mom is less thrilled, although she's lying on the couch watching a movie and drinking a Gatorade, so I don't feel quite as guilty as I did.
But now I feel guilty for being upstairs at my computer while Mom's stuck downstairs. A few months ago that was the norm--not Mom stuck downstairs, but Mom preferring to hang out in the living room while I'm on my computer. It feels normal to me right now that I'm blogging and I can hear the Lord of the Rings music downstairs. Then I realize I need to check on Mom to make sure she doesn't need anything. Then I feel bad for feeling so content at having a chunk of computer time.
Anyway, I'm at 72,000 words on Misfits and closing in on the end. All I have left to write is the main character's date with his new girlfriend and the big scene where a friend of his needs his help, then a scene of reconciliation between two estranged friends. Hmm, that sounds like more than I thought. It'll probably go over 75,000 words, but then again it's not like I need to keep the wordcount low.
I'm not sure about Misfits. I really like it, and I think it's a good book, but I've also stopped believing I'm ever going to get an agent or sell a book to a big publisher. Misfits is a YA book with no speculative elements at all, with a central theme of the bonds of friendship--but it's got strong LGBT themes, which means it's destined for a small publisher no matter how good it is. And I don't know anymore how good a writer I am. Last week I started rereading The Taste of Magic, a book I only wrote a few years ago and which was just published last month, and I couldn't even finish it. I didn't like my own writing style. I don't know what to make of that.
July 28, 2011
68,000 words
I'm closing in on the end of Misfits. I'm guessing it'll top out at 75,000 words, which is a bit on the long side for a YA novel but not ridiculously long. I'm 68k words in right now.
Writing it has been strange. I became obsessed with it a week before Mom had her stroke, and it was only natural for me to continue working on it at the hospital. But one part of the book concerns the main character's trouble with his mother; he's sixteen and doesn't always get along with her. It felt really weird to be writing arguments between the two when my own mother was lying in a hospital bed next to me and I was doing everything I could to make her comfortable.
I did a lot of thinking about my own teenage years. I was a pretty good kid, but Mom and I fought a lot--about stupid stuff, in retrospect. I'd scream at her and make her miserable, and those memories made me damn miserable in the late evenings while Mom was sleeping and I was trying to write. I wish I had known as a teenager just how tolerant and kind my mom really was.
But it's those memories of screaming at my mom that she was unfair that allow me to dig into the mind of a fictional teenager and really understand how he feels. So I guess that's just one more thing my mom did for me.
I have, of course, apologized to her repeatedly for my teenage self. That she finds it all amusing now says a lot about her.
Writing it has been strange. I became obsessed with it a week before Mom had her stroke, and it was only natural for me to continue working on it at the hospital. But one part of the book concerns the main character's trouble with his mother; he's sixteen and doesn't always get along with her. It felt really weird to be writing arguments between the two when my own mother was lying in a hospital bed next to me and I was doing everything I could to make her comfortable.
I did a lot of thinking about my own teenage years. I was a pretty good kid, but Mom and I fought a lot--about stupid stuff, in retrospect. I'd scream at her and make her miserable, and those memories made me damn miserable in the late evenings while Mom was sleeping and I was trying to write. I wish I had known as a teenager just how tolerant and kind my mom really was.
But it's those memories of screaming at my mom that she was unfair that allow me to dig into the mind of a fictional teenager and really understand how he feels. So I guess that's just one more thing my mom did for me.
I have, of course, apologized to her repeatedly for my teenage self. That she finds it all amusing now says a lot about her.
July 23, 2011
The kindness of strangers
Mom's home from the hospital as of a few days ago, although "home" right now is her sister's house. I'm staying in my cousin's room (and I love love love her bathroom, which is like my favorite room in the whole wonderful house--when I grow up and have my own house, its bathroom will be like that one). Mom's doing much better; we even went out to see the new Harry Potter movie the other day, which she loved. We'll probably see it again next week.
My aunt's house is across town from ours, which sounds like a long drive except that we live in such a tiny village. It takes me about three minutes to get from one house to another. This afternoon Mom settled down for a nap and I ran home to get some stuff and attempt to tame some of the yard. I haven't had a chance to mow in almost a month, much less weed the garden.
Well, when I pulled into our driveway I was shocked to see that the lawn was newly shorn. And when I parked in back, I saw the neighbor across the street on his big riding mower, finishing up. I'd never even met him, but he said he was a good friend of another of my cousins when they were young, and he was out mowing his yard and said he decided to get ours at the same time.
There's been so much kindness shown to Mom and me over the last few weeks, it's overwhelming. Mom keeps exclaiming over the unbelievable number of cards she's received, all the flowers and notes and emails from people wishing her well. I told her that if only we could harness all the goodwill, we could probably solve the energy crisis for good. Clean goodwill energy for all!
I wonder if I can persuade someone to weed my garden for me.
My aunt's house is across town from ours, which sounds like a long drive except that we live in such a tiny village. It takes me about three minutes to get from one house to another. This afternoon Mom settled down for a nap and I ran home to get some stuff and attempt to tame some of the yard. I haven't had a chance to mow in almost a month, much less weed the garden.
Well, when I pulled into our driveway I was shocked to see that the lawn was newly shorn. And when I parked in back, I saw the neighbor across the street on his big riding mower, finishing up. I'd never even met him, but he said he was a good friend of another of my cousins when they were young, and he was out mowing his yard and said he decided to get ours at the same time.
There's been so much kindness shown to Mom and me over the last few weeks, it's overwhelming. Mom keeps exclaiming over the unbelievable number of cards she's received, all the flowers and notes and emails from people wishing her well. I told her that if only we could harness all the goodwill, we could probably solve the energy crisis for good. Clean goodwill energy for all!
I wonder if I can persuade someone to weed my garden for me.
