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.