Posts Tagged ‘Joy’
Happy Dance and Defiance Reading
Today is just turning out well all over. The Little Prince is thrilled with his new rock climbing gear, my friends are happy little bandits, I saved an online sale for the bookstore by remembering where a specific book came from, and the big news…I can’t share the big news just yet, but it’s a weight off my mind and it means I get to do something completely new that I’m so excited about, I can’t even tell you.
The heat’s also broken today. It’s a comfortable almost-eight degrees instead of over-ninety-heading-for-a-hundred-and-my-God-humid. I still feel a bit logy and slow and swollen from the heat wave, but that will fix itself. Plus I’ve been climbing, and consistently reaching the top of even challenging 5.9s. The Prince attacks the rock wall like it’s personally insulted him, shimmying up like he’s part monkey. It’s awesome to see him figuring out where to put his hands and feet, and every time he gets down off the wall he’s wearing this huge grin.
There’s just all sorts of good things happening. Last weekend was bizarre, yes, and I’m still spinning a bit from it…but I am reminded, once again, that there are good things and if I’m patient, the good things outweigh the bad.
So. Tomorrow at 7pm I’ll be reading from Defiance at the Cedar Hill Crossing Powell’s. I’ve posted the event on Facebook and Goodreads if you want to spread the word; I’ll also be bringing a few signed books to raffle off, so that’s good. ALSO, there’s an Amazon preorder link for my upcoming Harlequin Nocturne, Taken. (Thanks to Tez Miller for the link!)
Now I’ve got to go run off some of this excitement. And, oh yeah, get some work done. If you hear someone shouting, “YAAAAY!” today, don’t worry. It’s just me.
Over and out.
Hey, Jealousy!
All right! It’s release day for Jealousy, the third in the Strange Angels series!
Dru Anderson might finally be safe. She’s at the largest Schola on the continent, and beginning to learn what it means to be svetocha–half vampire, half human, and all deadly. If she survives her training, she will be able to take her place in the Order, holding back the vampires and protecting the oblivious normal people.
But a web of lies and betrayals is still closing around her, just when she thinks she can relax a little. Her mentor Christophe is missing, her almost-boyfriend is acting weird, and the bodyguards she’s been assigned seem to know much more than they should. And then there’s the vampire attacks, the strange nightly visits, and the looks everyone keeps giving her. As if she should know something.
Or as if she’s in danger.
Someone high up in the Order is a traitor. They want Dru dead–but first, they want to know what she remembers of the night her mother died. Dru doesn’t want to remember, but it looks like she might have to–especially since once Christophe returns, he’ll be on trial for his life. The only person who can save him is Dru.
The problem is, once she remembers everything, she may not want to…
I am currently suffering the writer’s version of performance anxiety. I plan on hitting the rock wall today to combat it, plus there’s revisions on another book and fresh wordcount to get in. Work really is the cure for everything that ails me, at least lately.
But I don’t want to go without saying thank you to the people who helped make today’s release possible, from my writing partner to my agent and editor, to the great team at Razorbill, to my children and my sisters, to my friends CMH and SZ, and everyone who told me to just get on with it.
Most of all, dear Reader, thank you. I shall thank you in the way we both like best, by telling you a story. I hope you like Dru’s continuing adventures…
You can buy Jealousy at Borders, Barnes & Noble, Book Depository, Indiebound, and Amazon. Signed copies are available! There’s also a chance to win the whole series at the Strange Angels official website.
Cello, Locks, And Civet Rump
I don’t care how “less acidic” it’s supposed to be, I’m not drinking coffee that came through a civet’s rump.
Oh. Hi. Good morning. I had a fab weekend–for one thing, I visited the Ballard Farmer’s Market and ran across Adam Hurst quite by chance. I’ve been a fan of his for years now, ever since he played before a show at Cinetopia. He’s having a concert (that is being taped for OPB ArtBeat, go Adam!) on July 1 in Portland at the Old Church, and if you’re a fan of cello music, I highly recommend you go take a listen. If all else fails, he’s got several CDs available. I often listen to his stuff while writing Watcher books or while cooking; his first two albums also played quite a role in writing Japhrimel.
This weekend we also visited the Ballard Locks and got to see several sailboats go through to Lake Union. This led to a long involved science geekery conversation about how the locks work, the density of water, deep-ocean currents, fish spawning, and sodium chloride. Add in lunch at Lombardi’s and some Cupcake Royale, and it was a very happy, full, and tired Lili who embarked on the long drive home. The Little Prince and Princess were absolutely fascinated by the sailboats and couldn’t stop talking about it.
We had great weather (overcast but warm, which meant we didn’t get sunburnt while we were out scampering around) and a relaxing drive both ways. All in all, it was a rest-and-recharge weekend, and I actually got some work done too. Everyone won.
How’s your Monday, dear Reader?
On Physical Effort
The Dame Smackdown is still ongoing! Remember, if I, ahem, “win”, I will be posting an excerpt of Jealousy or Heaven’s Spite. *tempty tempty*
This is going to be a post tangentially about my weight…so if you’re tired of hearing me talk about that, you’re probably better off stopping now. On the other hand, I will be tying it into writing, so it’s up to you.
I’ve (drumroll please) achieved the weight goal I set for myself lo these many months ago. (All the way back on Labor Day of 2008, I believe it was. Slow and steady…) I’ve lost between 70-80 pounds and overshot my goal of a size 14 by, let’s see, three or four sizes. Some of that was stress-related, yes. It’s been a stressful year or two. But most of it was acquiring healthier habits– watching what I ate and making exercise more of a priority. I found out halfway through that when I wasn’t miserable over crazymaking people, I didn’t want to eat to dull the misery. That revelation was accompanied by the fact that the steady work I’d been doing before then making exercise a priority actually started to pay off. Once I started seeing results, the whole world opened up, so to speak.
I’m choosing to be very proud of myself. It’s been a long, long road, but I’m glad I started, and I’m glad for everyone who supported me along the way, from my writing partner to my kids to my hairdresser friend C.
I’ve always been a big advocate of taking a brisk walk or blocking out a fight scene to shake things loose inside a story. Physical movement works very, very well for me when it comes to my creative process. The trouble was, for a very long time I hated working out–long, long story having to do with my aversion to anything resembling a team sport. I like to work alone, thank you. Now that I’ve arranged my life so that I can run on the treadmill every weekday morning, ALONE (I’m up to just over three miles again, every day), that time is some of the most productive I’ve ever had.
I’m not saying you have to run three miles or lose a good third of your bodyweight (ha ha) to have a sustainable creative career. I am saying that when you’re stuck working on a story, getting up and moving around for ten or fifteen minutes often unsticks the damn thing and gets the Muse off her couch and away from those damn bonbons. (Not so incidentally, this is another use for your trusty kitchen timer. Set it and move, and when you’re done, voila!)
We live a lot in our heads, we writers, and we tend to forget there’s a whole body carrying said head around. Getting up and getting the blood moving gives the Muse a fresh start on things. Never underestimate the power of ten jumping jacks, ten minutes shaking your booty to loud music, or a brisk ten-minute walk when characters aren’t behaving and the cursor starts blinking at you like Sauron’s Eye.
Just this morning I was brooding over a plot point, and fifteen minutes into my run–at about the first mile-mark–all of sudden the next third of the book opened up, complete with scenes and settings. It’s magic when it happens, and I spent the other two miles playing with it inside my head, fine-tuning. It was awesome. Of course, the cardio benefits aren’t bad either.
You don’t have to run flat-out. Another particular favorite of mine is putting on some music and dancing, awkwardly I’m sure, in my living room. Usually it’s a song from the “soundtrack” of the current book in progress, and it reliably shakes everything loose. I wouldn’t dance like a dork if it didn’t actually work 90% of the time.
Well, yeah, maybe I would. I’m funny that way. But I’m glad it works.
Over and out.
Serenity In Rain
Today has been productive. Errands run, a short story proofed, and the afternoon settling into a groove. When will I learn that trying to take days off makes me cranky and slightly depressed? I just don’t feel right unless I work. It may be a coping mechanism, but at least it’s a coping mechanism that benefits me and doesn’t suck.
The rain is coming through in sweeps today, and in between each brisk broom-flick of straight up-and-down falling water is a mini-sunbreak. It’s spring weather, and it washes every newly-sprung leaf and every azalea flower over and over. It’s the sort of day where the rain cleans the air too, and everything is crystalline when the sun breaks out. The entire world smells of green and growing.
Me? I’m inside listening to Joshua Bell playing Kreisler over and over. There’s a candle burning softly and the whole house is quiet except for the violin’s singing. Every window is full of the softstorm light of spring, and words are itching under my skin.
It’s good to be here. I hope your day is just as serene, dear Reader.
