Friday afternoon I sent off Doom of the Elder‘s first draft, promptly found a few small things I wanted to change in the story, threw up my hands, and decided to spend the weekend reading danmei and doing laundry.
Well, to be strictly honest, the danmei was a decision and the laundry was a necessity. Especially since I finally had to put away flannel sheets; it’s just too warm, even at night. Add the sunspots (which almost certainly caused the power outage which effed up the fixture over the stairs) and Boxnoggin developing a bit of a limp, and it was not quite as restful as it could have been.
Before you ask, Boxnoggin is fine; he’s on strict rest for a little while, our walkies are only long enough to let him sniff a few things and get his peristalsis to turn over, and he’s already attempting to bounce around with glee since he’s feeling ever so much better. Curbing his enthusiasm is difficult, mostly because he habitually deploys the Big Sad Brown Eyes maneuver. Fortunately, I am (partly) proof against such blandishments, and we all take turns with stuffed toys, skritches, and puzzles to distract and wear him out. The Princess brought home a Tuffy toy shaped like a pig, its squeaker located precisely where bacon is harvested, and that was good for a whole day’s hilarity–our adorable fuzzy barbarian was once returned to the shelter for the immense crime up being unable to stop chasing pigs on a farm, so there were many jokes about karma. Meanwhile, Lord van der Sploot grinned, lolled on his pile of older chew toys, demanded many pets, and generally made a spoiled nuisance of himself.
Today is supposed to be vastly cooler weather-wise, and I’m hoping changing some light bulbs will take care of the fixture over the stairs. The entire affair will necessitate an extendable doohickey and no doubt a bit of swearing; I don’t know what I’ll do if the fixture itself has to be replaced. At least the fan still works?
It’s always something.
Today is also for getting back into the current serial and seeing if I can’t get the next pitched battle set up. It’s early days for me to be thinking about the next serial, but preliminary cogitation is a habit by now. I might let it be the Cain’s Wife trilogy if that can’t be sold to indie or small press; I like that story and want it out in the world. If things work out otherwise it might be House of the Fan, but epic fantasy needs so much in the way of support–especially the big complex worldbuilding I like to do–that’s a vanishing prospect. I’m feeling the itch to get to Herongull or Innkeeper’s War, and the third Sons of Ymre is boiling away inside my head as well. I have an extremely ambitious idea for that last one, but it will need some testing and deep thought before I decide if I actually want to go for it.
And somewhere in all that are revisions for Hell’s Acre (we’re looking at that coming out in Jan-Feb of next year), copyedits and proofs on Chained Knight, and various other bits and bobs as stuff works through the publication pipeline. It’s gonna be a busy few months, especially with Fall of Waterstone coming out in June.
…looking back over all that, one would think I’d feel more hopeful. Alas, it’s low-water mark lately, between the awful month of May (always difficult) and the snapback from finishing a truly massive series. It doesn’t help that the latter suffered under exceedingly difficult conditions for multiple years; I’m bloody exhausted and emotionally battered. It’d be nice to have some good news, or some time to breathe.
As it is, I’ll make do with coffee and Boxnoggin cuddles. And maybe I’ll take a few hours this afternoon to curl up on the couch with hot tea and a book I didn’t write. At least there’s always that. Cheap therapy, the best kind.
Onward into the week, then.