Lilith Saintcrow

Spin me right round, baby right round…

I’ve gone from being barely able to run for two whole minutes without gasping and feeling like I was being tortured…to running for almost an hour at double the pace relatively easily. I’m glad I’ve looked back at the original contract I made with myself to exercise, because it reminds me of how far I’ve come in baby steps. Breaking up a goal into bite-size chunks and methodically working through those chunks isn’t glamorous, but you do eventually get to a place where you look around ad realize, holy crap I’m doing X when before I could barely do Y! It’s a great feeling.

I won’t be signing up for any marathons soon. For right now it’s enough that I know I can do these things, and feel the effects in my much-smaller-now body.

Anyway, today is President’s Day and the kids are home from school. We’re heading out to OMSI with our friend H. and her son. Another great thing about fighting my way back from the abyss–I have energy to do cool things now! I am fun again! *rolls eyes at self* But really, that’s how I feel. Like I’ve plugged back into the socket that is my awesomeness.

Tomorrow night, my awesome fellow Razorbill author Suzanne Young is signing out at Cedar Hills Crossing. The Princess loved her book, The Naughty List, and Suzanne is a ton of fun. If you can, go out and show some love! I don’t know if I’ll get out there, but I’ll be there in spirit cheering her on.

Oh, and my Valentine’s Day date-with-myself has been moved to Tuesday. It just worked out better that way. I’m going to go see The Wolfman. Yeah, it might suck. My expectations are pretty low, I’m just going for the escape, the costumes, and Benecio Del Toro’s lips. (The man pouts like Mae West and I LOVE IT.) Plus I’m going to buy myself popcorn, because I am a Good Date.

I can also say that I’ve finished the latest round of revisions on Heaven’s Spite and am flipping back to Dru 4 and a short story. No rest for the wicked, and I’m getting to like it that way. So I must bid you a civil adieu. Regular blogging will resume tomorrow.

ETA: I forgot to mention, there’s an interview with me up over at the Book Butterfly. Enjoy!

Yesterday was a comedy of errors, ameliorated somewhat by my friend Red Argyle and his girlfriend coming over for family bowling night. We had a lot of fun, and I tried a new recipe. It came out very well, even if I couldn’t find flank steak.

The cavalcade of errors included my kitchen sink suddenly refusing to work, despite Drano and plunging. I am proud to report that this morning I took the trap off, cleaned everything out, swore five or six times, and restored order. At least under-the-sink gets clean and now I know how to take the trap off. So, it’s all good.

And now my website is back up and working again! Huzzah! So, am announcing the winner of a copy of Betrayals–remember that? And the winner, picked with the help of Random.org, is…

…comment #12, Terry! Who said:

Throwing up in my hotel room (very bad fish from the hotel restaurant) prevented me from likely being being ensnared from what I hope was a beautiful Russian spy (lovely phone voice).

This was in Moscow during the cold war and those things did happen back then.

I have no idea if she really was a “swallow” (old spy slang term, look it up ) and I certainly was no catch but the whole meeting sounded wrong (too long to tell here) and before I could make up my mind, the fish decided to swim to freedom through my throat.

Whether it was luck, bad luck and/or a really complex (and likely weird) conspiracy by the soviets remains unknown.

Terry, if you’ll email me your snail mail address, your signed and personalized copy of Betrayals will be on its way to you! Thanks for commenting!

There will be another giveaway, and I’m working on the most current installation of the newsletter, where there will be yet another giveaway. But first, today, I have to get out to Home Despot. I need plumber’s putty, some dowels, and a snake.

Don’t ask. I just like to be prepared.

Cotton wool stuffing my skull. Stuffed nose. At least the cold doesn’t seem to be getting any worse. I can still hit the treadmill in the mornings, which is a step up from the last round–that was the Travel Cold From Hell. *shivers* Ugh.

I am in the stage of writing a Kismet book where I have an acute attack of nerves. Nobody’s going to like it, I don’t know what I’m doing, who do I think I am… The usual. The good thing is that I’ve done this so many times by now that I’m prepared for the emotional upheaval. The bad news is…emotional upheaval. And I’ve been writing this book under acid-test conditions, as it were.

I just keep reminding myself: if I could go through pregnancy, 11+ years of being a mother, and getting published in the first place, this is small potatoes. Well, maybe small yams. Or something. I’ve done this before, I can do it again.

Last night I did some yoga on the Wii. It was actually really cool. I’m avoiding Downward Dog (the trainer tells you to put half the weight on your arms, instead of keeping most of it in your legs) and the shoulderstand (what, do I look like I shoulderstand? Not on your life, buddy). But the Palm Tree, Sun Salutation, Grounded V, Chair Pose? Oh yeah. Those I can do. And I feel so good after it’s finished–I think it’s the deep breathing.

Of course, doing yoga with a head cold is hilarious. If only because of the noises one’s nose makes during the deep breathing section of the festivities.

And now, because I’m sure you’re bored of hearing about All That, a link!

Very short stories, courtesy of Wired. com. I love these, especially Margaret Atwood’s. I found a book of 50-word stories once, including one (maybe by Chekhov?) about a woman named for a wolf. When you have so few words, each one counts for more than itself.

And with that, I’m taking myself off to a lunch of tomato soup and yesterday’s bread. Yum. I just wish I could taste it through this damn cold.

The day when I want to retreat into lit crit is the day I know I’m on the mend. (About damn time too.) And when a random Simone Weil quote makes me want to read the Barthes I’ve been saving for a rainy day, not only am I on the mend but I am back to my regularly-scheduled insanity.

So today is a day of gentleness, if I can manage it. Claws in, paws padded, tone gentle, walk soft.

So, in lieu of a real post, here’s some links.

Start out with part I of Kaigou’s “Dear (Not Just) Urban Fantasy Author.” Kaigou covers a lot of ground, from the very simple fact that everything costs money to what it means for a character to grow up in an abusive household. You can concurrently or consecutively read RachelManija’s posts on PTSD. If you want to write characters dealing with violence, the effects of violence or abuse, these are really great resources. (Check out Rachel’s book: IndieBound or Barnes & Noble.)

If you’re not reading Pharyngula, why? PZ Myers is sharp, smart, and takes absolutely no prisoners.

For another side of the die, I can’t recommend Slacktivist enough. Not only is he reading Left Behind so I don’t have to, but he’s one of the few people of faith I think actually tries to live by the ethical code he says he believes in.

For the lighter side, there’s Kate Beaton, whose historical cartoon strips are pure awesomeness. I should also mention the Comics Curmudgeon. I’ve also grown kind of addicted to LOLCelebs, in a sort of “look, there’s a trainwreck I’m not a part of!” way.

I used to watch Jerry Springer in my mid-20s for the same reason. After about ten minutes of the Springer show, I felt pretty good abut my life, no matter how bad it got. I suppose that makes me a horrible person. And hat tip to Alt3Sparky for pointing me at Texts From Last Night. (Warning: SO NOT SAFE FOR WORK. Trust me.) It’s the same dynamic.

And just to round all of this out, I should note that today I am alternating between listening to Judy Henske, Jandek, and whatever Lady Gaga I can scrounge up on Youtube.

Apparently I am very confused. And now you can be too.

No, really. You can thank me later.

I have been working all morning, but it seems like I’ve gotten nowhere since that work is all of the invisible maintenance variety. Ugh.

* First, the serious: NPR won’t use the word “torture” when Americans do it. But when anyone else does, it’s fair game.

* Charles Kaiser pronounces the Washington Post dead, writes obituary.

* Now the geeky-cool scientific: the Sarychev volcano eruption seen from space, and the “volcano sunsets” it’s causing.

* Last but not least, the utterly freaking hilarious: the 2009 Bulwer-Lytton Contest winners are announced. SO WORTH the half-hour I spent reading them. (Hat tip to Kat Richardson for the link, and also for noting the winner hails from Federal Way, WA. Washington state rules!)

And that’s all, folks. Back I go to plugging away on the manuscript…