Tenuous Peace, Cutting

It’s always mildly amusing when people who have denigrated and dismissed one for a long while act surprised when one picks up one’s toys and goes home. The ol’ “pretending bafflement when the person you used to kick around suddenly isn’t there anymore” can even be deeply hilarious, if viewed from far enough away to protect oneself. Escaping a bad situation, disengaging from those who use one as a punching bag, is tremendously healing.

All the same, I can’t help but find much of the professed surprise deeply disingenuous. Did you think I’d stay forever to be the whipping girl?

Moving on (literally!), I’m revising the last few chapters of Chained Knight today. The pieces are in place for editing (95% certainty) and cover art (that’s a Texas-sized ten-four, good buddy), so maybe around June or so another Tale of the Underdark will toddle into the world. I am deeply relieved to find out that the book is actually good–the beta readers liked it too–and that I’m still pleased by the idea of playing variations on a theme a la Elric. I think there’s one more symphony of that vein in me, but I can’t write it until *checks schedule* probably sometime next year?

That’s all right, it’ll keep. Of course, making it do so will probably force it to tear its way out of my head in two weeks like the last one. Big fun.

The three Underdark books won’t be a series, per se, but they will be variations. Cover art and releasing long enough apart should make that clear, and if it doesn’t end up getting through to a certain proportion of folk, well, there’s nothing further I can do. My work has never been for those incapable of drawing inferences, or unwilling to do so.

Perhaps it’s the energy of the new year provoking a re-evaluation of where my energy is being spent, or maybe my patience has finally been eroded. It could even be the vast inner quiet of two book hangovers at once, or the ongoing realization of my own inalienable value. Whichever way it’s sliced, I’m at a tenuous peace with cutting off a few gangrenous chunks right-fucking-now. At a certain point the consequences of walking away are far less damaging than those of staying where one is not valued, and I learn that lesson over and over. The relief is immense, almost unbearable.

After Chained revisions are dealt with, there’s a duel with a warrior woman in Highlands War as well as a pitched set-piece battle that promises to be rather fun. Not for the characters–Kaia would much rather have a decent bath and a good dinner, and her princeling is of like mind. Unfortunately the story isn’t cooperating with their dual longing, in any sense of the word. And after that…hm, it would be nice if a few folks would clear their pre-holiday inboxes and get back to me about the four…wait, five…no, six, oh my gods, six or so books waiting to either be picked up by a press or, failing that, stuffed in the self-pub cannon.

It’s a wonder I haven’t gone full-feral indie long before now. In any case, I’m giving trad publishing one last year to shape up, as my grandfather used to say–including paying me on time–or ship the fuck out. We’ll see what happens.

Thursday beckons, the subscription drops are formatted and merely require loading, Boxnoggin dislikes the chill damp but will be glad of walkies, and my own inbox could stand a little attention before I choke down some toast and get truly underway.

I’d best get started.