Lilith Saintcrow

My weekly post at The Midnight Hour is up. I was inspired by Angela James’s recent RTB post about one-manuscript writers. I do have a sort of law about one-ms-writers: thy first book shall not ever sell, for even if it doth not stink your pimpage of it reeketh most hardily. Heh.

Maybe I’ll get a lot of flak for it, because I feel strongly about this. I avoided the one-manuscript trap by sheer chance, because I wanted to write a trilogy and was too dumb to get scared after I finished the first book. Once I finished the second, it was like, “oh hey, I can keep doing this! What do you know? Wow.”

Now, twenty-two finished manuscripts later, it’s almost old hat for me to have two books cooking at once. As soon as I finish one project I’m on to the next, without giving myself a chance to get cold. I leave selling them to my wonderful, beautiful agent, thank God; that’s not my job anymore. I’m happy to be free just to bumble around and write whatever takes my fancy.

I really do honestly think you can’t just finish one book and stop. (Again, don’t bring up Harper Lee. She’s an anomaly.) To be a writer and have any kind of shot at selling something you need to produce an oeuvre and keep producing, to up the statistical chance of someone liking something you’ve done.

Oh, and to hone your craft. That too.

In other news, things are looking up. The DHM’s dad is back at home after an operation, and seemingly doing fine. We’re beginning to discuss what we’ll do if there’s another medical emergency or if he’s (God forbid) unable to care for himself anymore. It’s one of those discussions you never want to have but that are absolutely necessary, and the DHM understands that. We’re all just glad Oji-san is still around to have the conversation with.

Thanks to everyone for all the good thoughts, support, and wonderful emails sent (especially Reader Tami Hawes, who send a very timely reminder. Thanks, Tami!) All the positive energy really helped.

Have a good weekend, everyone!

Ahoy, mateys! No, I will not be doing this post in Piratespeak. I just wanted to start things out with a little salt.

So, the big news is next week the new website may launch. The designer thinks it’s probable, possible, and maybe even going to happen a little sooner. For those of you curious about such things, it’s Kuma Digital, and the new site will look LOVELY. I was SO ready for a new look. And really, I’m okay with the HTML but I’m no graphic designer, so I need all the help I can get. Thank goodness for these folks.

I was getting kind of nervous, since a professional website is getting to be a necessity for me. Speaking of which, Cheyenne McCray had a great idea and asked 11 agents and publishers about Web presence and other things over at The Midnight Hour. It’s worth a read.

The thing that comes home from this is: when you’re on the Web you’re in public. Don’t go out half-dressed or spouting idiotic stuff, because it WILL come back to haunt you. It may not seem like it, but I’m careful what I put in my journal. My Readers’ liking for and interest in a window into my personal life has to be balanced against professional behavior and protecting the privacy of my kids. Better to think about it before you start out, or when you Hit It Big (knock on wood) something will come back to bite you.

I am always amazed by the people to write and submit to publishers but don’t take time to seriously think about image and branding. *boggles* These issues can make the difference in so many ways, and thinking seriously about them in the beginning saves you lots of heartache later.

Anyway, I’ve got copyediting to eye, since I finished the proof pages. So I shall bow out. Thundercats, ho!

Avast!

You ever get that feeling? Like one day you’re going to peel off your human skin and reveal the form underneath, and when the ship drops from the sky you’ll be there with suitcase in hand and towel over shoulder–because, you know, you can’t hitchhike the galaxy without a towel, fer Chrissake.

So last night I was kept up late by a nervous breakdown (not my own) and just about to fall asleep when there was an unholy scream. One of the kids was having a bad time of it. So I went into full Mummy mode, and guess what I was told.

“Go away. I’m tired.” The kid promptly rolled back over and went to sleep, and I contemplated the infinite wisdom of the Universe in barring human females from eating their young. Then I contemplated that such rules were made to be broken, and I have a crock pot and an oven.

I hope everyone reading will be able to see or at least sense my tongue firmly in cheek here.

So there I was, adrenaline pouring through my highways and byways, and sleep an utter impossibility. And around about four the doldrums hit, hard.

Why could I not have been born a day person? Why do I have to be one of the night tribe? Yes, I know the beauty of deserted city streets and the sad sweet bitterness of a train’s call at midnight, I know the hush that falls when the world tips toward dawn, and I know those moments of blessed silence softer than velvet when the streets empty out and the world’s shift change happens. But dammit, I have a child who is a Morning Person. And at five he was up, poking and prodding and needing, and I was worn down to the thin dime’s edge.

And contemplating the nutritive value of child cheeks.

I could have slept once the sun came up. No, really, I could. That’s when I get tired, when daylight happens.

But no dice. The day is underway and devil take the hindmost.

Today. Just like yesterday, only no sleep and a hairy eyeball to spare. The Little Prince has just had a bath (did I mention his 6AM dirt wallow? “Because it feels good, Mummy!”) and the Princess is busy in her own Barbie world, where zombies are plotting to take over the world and Ken is useless, Barbs (named Sarah in this story) has to save the day. Still no sign of the Sullen One, but he never resurrects before noon unless there’s a compelling reason–like coffee, or me dragging him from the bed.

Good morning, world. Nice to see you. Don’t take it personal, but I’m pulling the covers back over my head.

Metaphorically, at least.

While I wait for those lights in the sky.

My weekly post is up at the Midnight Hour. It’s all about taking care of yourself as a writer.

Unfortunately, I didn’t make the Carey signing last night. I was determined, but after running the Sullen One to his last day of school and coming home to find out Oji-san was actually in surgery, then with both kids coughing and the Little Prince suddenly looking sick and droopy, it began to seem like not such a good idea. The thought that I might have to drive up to Seattle after going out to Beaverton…ugh.

So I missed the signing. It wasn’t by choice, I was just exhausted and had a kid getting over a cold and another one coming down with one. It bites, really, because I adore Carey’s work. But I’m told she’ll come through again, and when she does I’ll show up with my hardbacks and a foolish grin.

Life never turns out the way you want it to.

Thankfully, though, some things turn out better than you want them to. My father-in-law made it through the operation just fine. The damage to the aorta is repaired and there’s a stent; they’re looking at (possibly) releasing him on Saturday. He’s feeling a bit under the weather, of course, now that his energy is focused on getting better instead of clinging to life.

Thanks to everyone who offered support and good thoughts during this difficult time. The Selkie and the Sullen One, in particular, have been real champs. But thanks are due as well to all the Readers who sent good wishes and thoughts. Thank you so much.

Have a good weekend, everyone.

Happy Solstice! I’m listening to Jackson Browne doing “barricades of heaven,” thank you Bear.

This song just makes me want to be writing Kismet instead of tweaking Valentine. Urgh. I have first-pass pages for Valentine 4, which means it’s almost in bed and I’m almost finished with 5.

Okay. So Oji-san is going into surgery this afternoon at a new hospital; they transferred him yesterday. Since his color is good and his spirits are up, they finally decided this type of surgery is going to be best for him. Quite frankly, if he’s hung on this long he has a good chance of pulling through if they can just stop the bleeding.

*sigh* I hope it goes well. I really, really do. I miss the DHM. I am hanging on by teeth and fingernails.

IN other news, I am planning on attending the Jacqueline Carey signing at Beaverton Powells tonight. The Sullen One will help me wrangle the kids, and the Mighty Martian Crab will be there too. Plus I need to return some books to Saint Peter. But I am not going to miss the Carey signing.

I am a HUGE fan of hers. The Kushiel series, I think, is some of the best fantasy to come out in the last decade/fifteen years. (I should know, I’ve read a lot of it.) But I just fell in love the moment I opened Kushiel’s Dart and have never been disappointed since. One of the proudest moments of my life was when Ms. Carey gave Working For The Devil a cover blurb. *boggle* It was like…like…well, words can’t describe, and I hope I don’t gush too much tonight.

I’ve caught some more sleep and my eyelid has stopped twitching. Thank goodness. This has been incredibly draining.

Merry Solstice to you all. May your light and life increase.