writing – Sharon Lee, Writer

Well the cops busted Madame Marie for tellin’ fortunes better’n they do

What went before: So, a low-key day. I did some This, some That, read, put the finished sampler into the embroidery book, ironed some con clothes. I’m still trying to decide if I’ll wear black-and-grey, or black-and-maroon for Opening Ceremonies, a decision I can put off for a few days yet, as both outfits will be coming with me.

For those who are coming to BaltiCon — I have Interesting News. We have a possible location for the Stuffed Animal Tea, but! We don’t have a time or day. So, at this point, it’s kind of a Heisenberg Tea. More news will be forthcoming, possibly on Wednesday. As soon as I know something firm (bearing in mind that I will be spending a large amount of Wednesday and Thursday driving), I’ll let y’all know.

We’re getting up toward ASL time, and I still need to close the windows.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Dim and damp.

Letters dispatched. Finished reading The Mysterious Marquess, and have pulled The Elusive Earl up for tonight’s reading, unless it turns out to be a Dr. Who night. Zoom call upcoming, and a couple other such things as people are suddenly realizing that I’m going to be away. Laundry needs to be sorted, laptop charged and systems brought up to date

I have more this ‘n that to do, including puzzling out some bits for the book after the current WIP, which may not be Jethri after all, if I’m gonna do mumblemumble with the current WIP, which I think may be Forced, given that I need to at least produce a soft landing, if not a Hard Wrap Up, and there are only three books remaining under contract (Current WIP, WIP After, Jethri Big Finish). And now you know why writers stare out of windows.

I’m slowly remembering the convention traditions — pins, con clothes, tote bag, pens, ribbons, badge jewelry… For those who are coming to the con, I will have with me some “I Met Steve Miller” ribbons, so that those present who had, in fact, met Steve Miller may acknowledge that connection.

The cats are being very snuggly and maybe even a little clingy, which I’m guessing the memo I sent out has hit. If the teleporter worked, I’d bring them with me, but the geezinfluke is still on backorder.

I think that’s most of what’s going on here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog post title courtesy of Mr. Bruce Springsteen, “4th of July, Asbury Park”

After breakfast cat census:

It wasn’t the bullet that laid him to rest, but the low spark of high-heeled boys

What went before: So! 600-odd new words today, bringing the total very drafty WIP to +/-40,200 words.

Quitting to do some ASL review and maybe see how much of my acceptance speech I remember today.

Tomorrow, I have an early(ish) appointment for a haircut, and some errands to run while I’m out and about. Then! I have Endless Phone Calls to make, and then? We’ll see.

So, I’m checking the weather for my various locations starting next week. Cooperstown’s more or less on par with my part of Maine, and Corning’s a tad warmer, but Baltimore? Baltimore, what’s going on with you? It ain’t Summer.

Of course, we here in Central Maine are operating under an Active frost advisory from midnight to 6 am tomorrow. Just in case anybody thought it was Spring.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Well. Monday, eh? Damp and dim and at the moment, chilly.

Waiting for my tea to brew, then there’s a raisin bran muffin with my name on it to be toasted.

It looks like two of my friends have been whatever the FB term is for “hacked” overnight. Both visible in the city. Both women. Of course, you might say.

Sometimes, I think that I’d like to know what goes on in the heads of people who do this kind of crap (ref “hacked” above), so I could understand why they do it. If for nothing else, look at the material I could get for my stories, O! Me of Can’t Write Believable Villains.

But, then, yanno, I think, no. I’ll just sit over here writing overachievers who at least try to be compassionate, if they can’t be kind, and who recognize that none of us go it alone, we all need each other, even the bullies and the billionaires who proclaim themselves Self! Made! Met your mother, mate?

“The comfort of the rich depends upon an abundant supply of the poor.” Thank you, Voltaire.

I think I’d better go find that muffin.

And. A name I didn’t recognize liked my previous post and in the time it took me to click on the name and block it — I had two messages from that same name.

Glam shot:

Haircut achieved, per evidence previously provided. Firefly approves and that’s all the validation I need.

Stopped at Holy Cannoli and bought a slice of lasagna that will easily be two hearty lunches, and a chocolate mint brownie bigger than my head, which will also be eaten across days. In fact, I’ve just eaten a slice, which I washed down with the tea (still hot!) in my Yeti tumbler.

As previously advertised, I have phone calls to make and, to reward myself for phone calling and getting my hair cut, I have reserved a seat at this evening’s free talk-and-film at the Waterville Arts Center. This evening’s movie is The Shape of Water.

Waterville is doing the city-wide clean up, and people are throwing away Perfectly Good Stuff, so I thought, but figured it was Just Me. Turns out not. I chatted with a lady who had rescued several small child amusements from piles on people’s lawns, took them home, washed and disinfected them and, hey, presto! The grandkid wins.

So. Brownie slice consumed — man, that was good — and tea finished.

Time to make my first phone call.

primal scream

Phone calls accomplished. I may not have a copy of my log that the insurance company keeps on me, which is a record of every time I’ve called them, or they called me, and a synopsis of our talk, on account of that is … proprietary?

My first contact was with someone who wanted nothing to do with me and bounced me to another department, which fortunately got me someone who thought her job was solving problems.

Unfortunately, all she could do was research and compile a case, but she had to send me and the information back to the general office, where? I was “helped” to fill out a grievance that I cannot have a copy of, and I should hear “something” in 30 days.

Takeaway: Insurance company does not care if it has a trust issue, because — where else you gonna go?

I’m going to go heat up some of that lasagna for lunch. I do not believe I will be going to the movies tonight, but I may binge Dr. Who.

Today’s very late blog post title brought to you by Mr. Steve Winwood and Traffic, “The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys”

Adventuring for the faint of heart

Convention Business: The BaltiCon Program is now live. Word is that it’s still being tweaked. I was, for instance, double booked for Saturday evening, and have been moved from the panel discussion of how to make your characters relatable. Here’s the link. Note that you can search the schedule by day, and by person, and you can create your own list of things to do and see.

What went before: So, that’s 636 new words on the day, along with some retrofitting of old words. The WIP Entire now weighs in at +/-39,597 words.
For a book that has quite a large cast of characters, Salvage Right is amazingly tight, and I have to keep going back and refreshing myself on what happened when and to whom, as well as what was left over.

Also, prep for BaltiCon, including the travel details, and speeches, and reservations at Corning — not to mention the stupidity with the insurance company and! something else that landed on my desk today — is all kind of borking my concentration on the story. Well. Maybe I’ll have time to write at the con.

Yeah, who am I kidding?

The rain has stopped and the wind has come up. Word is that tomorrow will be sunny and beautiful.

We’ll see, she said darkly.

In the meantime, everybody stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday In Two Parts

ONE
Oh, my gods and goddesses.

Rookie fell out of the bathroom window.

SPOILER: He’s OK; I’m — a little stressed, and so very VERY pleased that he didn’t run away, but just sat in the garden under the window and YELLED. Firefly and Tali came to get me, both looking very worried, and I had heard a cat calling, but thought it was Trooper singing the song of his people downstairs, as is his habit.

But Trooper was on the copilot’s chair. I ran to the bathroom; the screen was awry and I could hear a cat YELLING. I closed the bathroom door, ran outside — and there was Rook, staring up at the window and YELLING. I called him and he came to me, just like the spoiled kid he is, and I picked him up and told him how brave and smart he was, and brought him back into the house, where we both collapsed onto the couch. He’s only just gotten up to grab a snack.

I pushed the screen all the way out, closed and locked the window. I’ll figure out how to put it back in later.

Offerings to Bast are in order.

TWO
Sunday. Sunny and still a little chilly, though warm enough that I opened the bathroom window for the edification of coon cats.

Breakfast was … eggs scrambled with tomato and onion and rice. I guess I ate about half of it before Adventure overtook me. I hate cold eggs. I did finish my toast and jam. Lunch will be chicken tender and mashed potatoes out of a bag and, oh, peas, why not?

I have a letter to write, but mostly I want to write. I really hope that isn’t too much to ask.

I … am still a little shaky, and so glad that Firefly and Tali came to get me instead of following Rook out the window. I might’ve talked Firefly in, but Tali’d be halfway to the mall in Augusta by now. Fans of Trooper will be pleased to hear that he slept through the entire thing.

So! Who’s up for Adventure today?

Picture of Rook after the fall:

I thought that I heard you laughing

What went before: Bookmarks for Balticon just landed!
Today has been a frustrating day. As much as I declared that it would be a writing day — well. It was a writing day.

Unfortunately, it was a writing day where I realized that I had made a wrong turn, and spent hours trying to figure out (1) where I had gone wrong and (2) how to fix it. I briefly considered chucking the entire manuscript into the recycling bin and deleting all the files.

Then I realized that I was dealing with a crew of rogues and scoundrels and that Seignur Veeoni is, to put it as baldly as possible — Seignur Veeoni.

Which in the present case, is a GOOD thing.

So! 265 new words written today, but the way is clear for tomorrow.

I had salmon on a bed of salad greens for lunch, and there’s broccoli cheese soup left over for tomorrow.

The cats have just finished Happy Hour; I have some dishes to wash, and my own evening meal to forage.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Saturday. Why, look; it’s raining.

I’ve taken to setting an alarm for 7am, as a compromise to getting up at 5am because I woke up, and feeling Aggrieved for the rest of the day. If I know I have an alarm set for 7, when I wake up at 5, I say, “Oh, no, you still have two hours to sleep,” and — that works. Psychology, man.

So, this morning when I arose, dewy and pink, from my couch (I know, I know — terrible image, but who am I to contradict a poet?), I was starving. I was in fact So Hungry that my brain immediately said, “You’re too hungry to eat.”

Have I mentioned recently that my brain periodically tries to kill me?

Yeah, so. Breakfast was naan and hummus, and a handful of dried apricots, because it was quick and could pretend to be nutritious. For lunch, there is that bowl of broccoli cheese soup that I ordered yesterday for lunch, but didn’t want after I ate the salad.

Today is — dare I say it? Yes! flaran cha’menthi, and all like that — a writing day. Seignur Veeoni is on deck. This ought to be Fun. For those values of Fun that apply to writers who are actively writing.

I was visited, serially, at breakfast by Rook and by Tali. Firefly stopped by my chair to have her back stroked, which is Firefly’s schtick; and Trooper is already on duty in the copilot’s chair.

So! What’s the weather at your house?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by REM, “Losing my religion“

. . . the rain’s gonna wash away, I believe this

What went before ONE: Contact made with painter. Letters writ. Duty to the cats retired. Car vacuumed; mud trays removed, rinsed off, and drying in the breeze.

I may not have mentioned this before, but … I have a snow shovel hanging on a coat hook in the foyer. And Rook has decided that bumping the shovel with his cheek (which makes the shovel swing slightly and go “bump-bump-bump”) is An Announcement that Coon Cats Are OR Should Be About To Be Fed.

Which is cute, even though he’s pretty often wrong. However, he’s right often enough that the other cats recognize the bump-bump-bump as treats and come rushing in from wherever they were to make sure they don’t miss out.

This brought to you by, I just put my dinner on to warm, Rookie decided turkey breast smelled good to him, hit the shovel — and I was awash in coon cats. None of whom are getting my turkey, and they’ve already had treats.

What went before TWO: Got a little bit of work done — +/-840 words, bringing the WIP to +/-38,690.

Still need to sort out my sewing basket, and one of my letters has generated a couple things I need to watch, so I think I’ll do the pots ‘n pans, serve up happy hour, pour a glass of wine and watch those.

Tuesday. Damp and grey and chill.

Trash and recycling at the curb.

Breakfast was a raisin bran muffin. Kettle on for my second cup of tea. Lunch…I think there’s leftover quiche.

Chatting a little with the gentleman who will be interviewing me at Balticon (11:30 Saturday morning in the Maryland Room, immediately after the Friends of Liad Breakfast), and he mentioned that he may talk about the Carousel books, which is very cool. But, that inspired me to go back to find when the Carousel books were published — Carousel Tides, 2010; Carousel Sun 2014; Carousel Seas 2015. So the newest was published a decade ago. I was in Old Orchard Beach in September of 2012, the year and month that I turned 60, writing Carousel Sun. Leaving aside the obligatory How Is That Possible? — that’s eleven Liaden books ago.

I dunno. Maybe we weren’t slackers, after all.

So, today I’m going to record my adjusted reading to make sure I fall within time, sort out my sewing basket, perform one’s duty to the cats, answer a couple letters and remember to go to the library this evening.

That doesn’t seem to be too difficult a day.

What’s your day look like?

Blog post title brought to you by Matchbook 20, “3 a.m.”

Pictures: daffodils and Rook (who was helping me watch those youtube samples)

The roads must roll

What went before: Still writing, but it will only be a matter of a couple hundred words. Spent most of the day on my reading for BaltiCon. It appears — and things are still in flux, so it might change — that I will be sharing a reading hour with a colleague. My reading was just a smidge under 30 minutes, so I needed to cut it to make sure I don’t go over time. I’ll have to time it again, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine.

I’ve also reviewed ASL homework, spent some time with the cats, taken a walk, and eaten lunch. Still need to do dishes.

I’ve read the sample of The Glassmaker: A Novel, by Tracy Chevalier, which was interesting, especially given my own interest in glass. I do have to consider if I want to go on, because…on the one hand, it’s always interesting to see what straight people — by which I mean Mainstream Novelists — do when they decide to use science fiction in their work. OTOH, it’s occasionally more infuriating than interesting, and that’s a fine, fine line to walk. I don’t wish the author ill, but I don’t want to watch the fall (if there is one), either.
Well. It’s not like I don’t have anything else to read at the moment. This one can sit in the wishlist.

So! I’m going to break here to wash dishes and torment Maine Coon Cats, after which it will be time to set up Happy Hour and I can come back to my keyboard and type another couple paragraphs to get me to the end of this minor scene.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll check in tomorrow, but possibly not until the afternoon.

Monday. Sunny and warm.

I’ve been to Charlie’s Subaru, where Skylark the Forester was pronounced ready to travel to Baltimore and back. Tires are good, and have been rotated. Brakes declared “practically new,” all fluids topped off. A picture of the underside of the car was taken, for some reason. The undersides of cars are ugly. However! No rust, nothing broken. Ref “ready to travel.”

I jettisoned the idea of going to Lisa’s for breakfast and shopping at the cool Hannaford at Cony Circle because the entirety of Augusta is being torn up by road crews, and I dared not risk myself trying to cross town. So I went home through Sidney and Oakland, which was fine until I hit Oakland, which is also being destroyed and rebuilt by road crews.

Not hitting Lisa’s meant breakfast was a KIND bar at Charlies, with the tea I had packed in, and cottage cheese when I got home from foraging at the KMD Hannaford.

Lunch will be a premade and now-defrosted chicken breast and butter beans.

I have a phone call to make and some outstanding correspondence to answer. I need to dump the lees of winter out of the car, and also poke around in my sewing box in anticipating of going to the sewing circle at the library tomorrow evening. Otherwise, and aside one’s duty to the cats, I will be trying to concentrate on writing.

Speaking of writing, I did misreport a couple days ago — I thought I’d appended a scene to the master document that I had not yet appended to the master document. So!

As of last night, total wordcount for WIP is +/-37,850. Which isn’t to bad, I guess, and it would be nice if a title suggested itself. Just sayin’.

The cats got up when I came home, and made a case for gooshy food. They have since gone back to their Usual Rounds, disappointed.

And that’s the Start of Monday at the Confusion Factory.

How’s Monday starting out for you?

when the world is puddle-wonderful

What went before: 707 new words today, bringing the WIP total word count to 35,147.

I printed out Blays and Majel’s Excellent Adventure, and will now have to time it.

Trooper is insisting that it is Coon Cat Happy Hour neeOW!, and he is, alas, wrong. I will therefore torment him by straightening up my desk and staring into the abyss of next week, which starts off with a bang! — a 7am appointment at the car dealership to get the Subaru ready for hitting the road. And! I need to remember to take the backway, because the ramp off the expressway to the dealership is closed (again) for repairs.

Sixteen people have committed to the Friends of Liad Breakfast at BaltiCon, which is certainly enough to warrant making a reservation.

It’s started to rain again; apparently, this is expected to continue through tomorrow night.

And Firefly has just come by to remind me about watching Dr. Who tonight…

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Raining. I’m chilly, but I don’t think it’s actually chilly. Anyhoot, sweatshirt on, and the dishwasher is doing its thing.

Breakfast was a cup of cottage cheese with a spoon of blueberry/ginger jam stirred in, this being the compromise after I informed myself that “I’ll just skip breakfast” was Not Acceptable. Lunch is easier. I have some tomato soup left over from the other day, into which I shall place a meatball or two and maybe some lentils, and, hey-presto! — rainy day soup.

<aside>I managed last year by riding the wave of Habit. But the wave has struck, and broken, and it’s becoming noticeably harder for me to keep on track. I haven’t lived by myself for nearly 50 years, and I’m finding I’m not very good at it. OTOH, I don’t really want to live with anybody else. Honestly, there’s no pleasing the woman.</aside>

So, last night, we watched Dr. Who. Firefly watched most of the Space Babies from the top of the cat tree, with Tali, but she came down when the bogeyman almost got Eric, and cuddled up with me, so we went on and watched the Music Thief, which I quite liked. (Apologies for not recalling the official titles of these episodes.)

Today, I need to time my (proposed) reading, and do some writing. Also, I need to make rice to have against need; it seems I’ve been eating a lot of rice, somehow, and remember to set the alarm for Omighod so I can be in Augusta (going the back way) by 7 am. I may grab breakfast at Lisa’s, after, and forage on the way home.

Looking out over the Long Back Yard — it’s amazing how quickly the leaves and flowers get on with it, once they’ve decided the time is right. I swear that two weeks ago, I had skeleton trees…

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by e.e. cummings, “In Just-“

In which the writer is not a cinephile

First things first: This is for the purposes of planning the Friends of Liad Breakfast on Saturday morning of Balticon at 8:45 am

If you are planning to attend the breakfast (you do not need to be a member of the con to come to breakfast): say “Yes” in comments.

Things you need to know about the Friends of Liad Breakfast: (1) This is a family gathering to catch up with each other and news. Everybody pays for their own breakfast. (2) It is not a con event.

Go!

What went before ONE: Old/new snippet: “Was that too long?” Theo snapped, worry sublimating into temper by a process he understood intimately. “You smashed the rack-and-tile array with a starbar. The doc had to do repairs at the cellular level! You should be dead, except you got lucky.”

Lucky. Of course, he had gotten lucky.

What went before TWO: So, lost +/-230 words on the day, bringing the total WIP to 34,440, more or less. And! I have a follow to a new scene that did not appear in Salvage Right, and which will address something that we glossed over in Salvage Right because deadline and if we kept on going we’d have written a 200,000 word book and, just — no.

There are already /1/0 15 people who say they’ll be attending the Saturday morning Friends of Liad breakfast at BaltiCon. Hoping the in-house restaurant is more amenable to reservations than the Boskone hotel, which, the last time Steve and I hosted a FOL breakfast, adamantly refused to take a reservation, and therefore doomed themselves to constantly rearranging the room for two hours, as folks kept arriving.

I am scheduled to be interviewed at 11:30 on Saturday at the con, according to the Less Drafty Schedule, so that’s something else to bear in mind.

Trooper was unfortunately messily ill this morning, which means that there will be no Happy Hour this evening. Because explaining to cats that they need to not gorge on gooshy food because it will make them sick isn’t exactly an Easy Sell, I think I will be on the couch watching Dr. Who and ignoring the protests of felines whose throats have been cut, rather than trying to read, or write, or do ASL homework.

And that’s all I’ve got on the day.

Saturday. The ‘beans claim it’s raining. The weather over the Long Back Yard is mostly sunny and a trifle cool. I’ve set the Awesome Chair up on the deck.

Breakfast was a ham and cheese sandwich (which finishes the ham, which I am now tired of, so it will be easier — for a while, anyway — to resist temptation) and veggie chips. Yes, that does sound like lunch. Actual lunch will be quiche and salad.

Thanks to everyone who pitched in on the name of the movie. Kill Bill it was. Nasty piece of work. Bearing in mind that I also did not think Thelma and Louise was “funny.” I think I may have mentioned that I am not the person they make movies for.

Speaking of movies, I watched The Church on Ruby Road, and the difference between now and 1997 is … wow. The cats all joined me, and we had a lovely viewing. Firefly has already asked that we do it again this evening, so I’ve got that inked in.

I stayed up a bit late last night, to finish The Teller of Small Fortunes. I also made the executive decision not to finish the book club book. This is slightly awkward, because I’m going to listen to the author read from this book in a week or two. OTOH, there always exists the possibility that I’m reading it wrong — reading protocols are A Thing, after all — and that the author’s performance will inform me.

Having gone to bed late, I slept late, and woke up to the realization that I need to start Making Lists for my upcoming perambulations, and for my duties to the con. Since I will apparently not be doing itinerant readings, I think I will read Blays and Majel’s Excellent Adventure officially, and perhaps carry with me “The Last Train to Clarkesville,” in case there’s another opportunity to just sit and read for an hour (it’s a long story).

This still leaves me with packing (1) the big suitcase full of con stuff and (2) the duffel bag, for my mini-vacay on the way home. I have engaged one of those apartmenty things, with a kitchen, and there’s a Wegman’s somewhere in Corning which I’ll try to hit before I check in. I have my tickets for two days at the museum, and two classes booked — one at the museum, and one at a studio in-town.

I still need to come to terms with how to get out of Baltimore. I’m thinking that Steve and I left BaltiCon 50 at, like, 4 o’clock in the morning and just shot out the Jones Falls well ahead of rush hour. That may be my best plan.

Today, I intend, mostly, to write. I have a few chores, as per usual, and one’s duty to the cats, and I will honor Firefly’s request for Moar Dr. Who. Oh, and I have to find something to read. I think I have the most recent Sebastian St. Cyr in the electronic TBR pile, the second Bad Heirs, a couple of cozies, and a Celia Lake to test drive. Yeah, I won’t starve.

What’s everybody reading today?

Oh. There are four cats in my office.

I want to fly like an eagle, to the sea

Friday. Rainy and cool.

Breakfast is rice crackers, cream cheese, applesauce. Waiting for my tea to brew.

I need some things at the grocery. The jury is still out whether I’ll get them in town or in Belfast. There’s a Reny’s in Belfast, which may tip the scales.

So, yesterday was very strange. At one point, I was running a (minor) fever, and I just felt — unwell. I cancelled out of ASL class, which was a bummer, but might as well not give whatever it was — assuming it was giftable — to my classmates.

This morning I feel — OK. No fever. Not so exhausted I can barely drag my tail downstairs to perform one’s duty to the cats.

So, that’s all good.

I have a less-drafty schedule from BaltiCon Programming (The final schedule may happen next week. Maybe.). There is room on Saturday morning for a FOL breakfast at — eh? 8? 8:30? 9? We will not be having a Stuffed Animal Tea, unless I can work something out with either the consuite or the Green Room, so, yanno, watch the skies.

In other news, the WIP now weighs in at 34,667 words, which looks like Holy Smoke! That woman wrote yesterday!, but is mostly cut ‘n pasting/minor reworking from Salvage Right.

This is a matter of +/-3400 words, and will likely be less as soon as I get smart enough to figure out how to further streamline the needed action while providing Necessary Context. In a +\-100,000 word novel, this is Very Small Potatoes. Nonetheless, I anticipate hearing from the folks who howled their heads off, asserting that half of Mouse and Dragon was “nothing but” the ending of Scout’s Progress, and they were thereby Cheated. I suspect that this unhappy anticipation is what has kept me from moving forward on this section, even though I’ve known from the start of the project that it’s going to have to go down this way. I do know that most people will Get It, but I hate getting yelled at in email. Or at all, really.

And! The votes are in! I’ll be foraging in town today.

What else? I’m still kind of reading the book club book, with a chaser of The Teller of Small Fortunes. It’s been slow going because I’ve been so damned tired. I may really try to knock off early this evening and, oh, watch Dr. Who.

Oh, and I need to find someone to paint my garage. Actually, I think I probably need somebody to rebuild my garage, but I’m not sure how that might be made to happen. Well. Research. That’ll be fun.

That appears to be the contents of my head, and my tea’s almost gone.

What’s going on with you, this fine Friday?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Mr. Steve Miller — the other Steve Miller — who notably wrote this song in 1976, when I’m told that music was Pure and nobody wrote about politics or social action in their books. “Fly Like An Eagle“

I wanna find one face that ain’t lookin’ through me

What went before ONE: I put together the new space heater, despite my fingers are still not working properly from yesterday’s abuses, and why don’t they just make screws bigger? But! Magnets are our friends. The assembled device was set to warming the bathroom, which it did with great efficiency and practically no noise. The elder space heater ROARED, so that will be a nice change, too, though I’ll have to be Extra Vigilant to be sure I’ve turned it off.

Am now taking a break for some fig newtons and Trooper lap time before taking the old heater down to the Goblin Room and wrapping it in plastic.

What went before TWO: For those following along at home, the chapbook I’ve been talking about now and again will include: “Neutral Ground,” written in September 2021 as a short story, which we/I then held because … Because. — a chapter pulled from Ribbon Dance, written in July 2023, and “Core Values,” written in February 2025, and posted to Splinter Universe. The stories amount to 27,485 words, and there will definitely need to be Author Commentary, so call it 30,000ish words.

No date yet — much needs to be done, aside from writing the commentary, but I said I’d keep people Informed.

What went before THREE: Rook, the “baby,” weighs 12 lbs, 6 oz.
Trooper, the patriarch, weighs 13 lbs 1 oz.
Firefly weighs 11 lbs, 3 oz.
Tali has declined the opportunity to be weighed at this time.

Since this time last month, Trooper and Firefly have lost minor ounces; Rook has gained minor ounces.

So, that’s actually good news.

What went before THREE-ANNA-HALF: Tali weighs 11 lbs 6 ounces.

What went before FOUR: 662 new words today, bringing the WIP to 33,487. I have signed up for Disney+, figuring Doctor Who will keep me busy until it’s time to pack, and then manifest at BaltiCon.

Still need to do my ASL review, so I guess that’s what I’ll be doing after I lay out Happy Hour.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Here’s a picture of Firefly staying safe, in case you need a role model:

What went before FIVE: I’m to give a speech at Balticon, accepting the Heinlein Award. It’s a short speech, and the current plan is to put it in the back of the chapbook discussed earlier today.

Thursday. Sunny, blue, and still.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with ham, tomato, onion, the last spoonful of potato salad, and parmesean cheese. Which was quite a lot, actually, so light lunch will be in order. I still have a little bit of chicken salad, so that may be the solution, right there. Tali stopped by as I was finishing up to have her ears massaged:

Things went slightly sideways last night, where I hit a wall — and bounced. I went to bed early, and slept, but I’m still kind of groggy and half-functional, so am planning a half-collapsed day. The comfy chair, a pad of paper, and a pen are looking good, so that’s where you’ll find me until it’s time to go to class.

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Mr. Bruce Springsteen, “Badlands”

Here’s the official cat census: