Away From the Edge

I woke up with two things this morning: Crystal Gayle singing in my head, and the deep need for caffeine. The latter is pretty much a constant; the former hasn’t happened in my memory. But here we are.

The air is heavy–there is supposed to be a great deal of rain today. The dogs are waiting for walkies, the Princess is baking challah (she just felt like it last night, I guess), Horace de Brassiere performed signal service in giving me sweet caffeine, and I have yet more proofs to get eyeballed today.

They should be very light–doing the first top-level scan yesterday returned encouraging signs. Still, it’s around 650 pages of “this is your last chance, look for errors.” Of course there are going to be typos left, there always are.

A book is a complex endeavour, after all.

I think I’ve crawled hand-over-hand out of a very deep hole. Now I’m lying on the rim, gasping and grateful, trying not to think about what might have happened. I could still be yanked in, of course–that sort of deep whistling absence creates a pull of its own. But for the moment I’m safe, and in a little while I might have the energy and wherewithal to roll away from the edge.

At the moment, I’m just glad I’m not hanging by teeth and toenails, hearing the hungry unsound below me.

Which is sort of why I’m retreating into myself so hard this October. I’ve cleared all “social” engagements and put a couple extensions and the like in my (recently changed) browser to block some aspects of social media. It’s time for solitary spoopy month.

The funny thing is, I have that belt…

Oh, and before I forget, the ebook omnibus edition of everyone’s favorite hellbreed hunter is $2.99 across retailers for a short while–BN/Nook, Kobo, Amazon, and Apple.

I’m trying–spurred by friends and my beloved agent–to do a little more marketing lately. The social weight against anything that can be seen as “blowing one’s own horn” (so to speak) is immense, especially for women. But I gather it’s expected, and I really should do more of it…so, again, here we are.

Plus, there are often some really good deals. And I really like the omnibus cover, though Jill would snort and say the pants wouldn’t hold up to a fight with a Trader, let alone a ‘breed, and Saul would cough a little and grin.

Weres, man.

In any case, the dogs have had their post-awakening nap and are very into the idea of walkies now. I am being summoned, but they’re going to have to wait until I choke down some breakfast toast.

By the time I get back from walkies and the (short, but definite) run scheduled for today, there should be challah in the oven. Which isn’t bad at all for a Tuesday.

Time to slither a few inches away from the edge and get started on the day. See you around, my beloveds.

6 thoughts on “Away From the Edge”

  1. I definitely had that belt in my 20sI
    I find myself agreeing with both Jill and Saul, a common thought if I am recalling correctly.

  2. I have occasionally wondered if anything came of her smacking that ‘breed with the sunsword. Like, is he out there somewhere plotting revenge? Did he just go home and sulk? Did Jill send him a nicely-worded not of apology? (HA!)

    I feel like there’s a spot for a two-page-or-so domestic short where he’s just wandering around, grumbling and moping, while everyone around him keeps trying to get him to snap out of it.

      • Ah! I’d lost track of that little wrinkle. And I did not catch the Shelley reference, either. I must be slipping. (Admittedly, it’s been several years since I read the Jill Kismet books, but you’d think the “eating his eyes” thing would have stuck with me…)

        That’s okay, though. Now I can write about some other demon moping around his extradimensional fortress-mansion because some hero smacked him with a major magical artifact while going after someone else entirely, and not feel like I’d be stepping on anybody’s toes.

        “I was just sitting there having a drink and this hero comes charging through, so naturally I stood up and snarled at her and she hit with the Lunar Mace! The actual Lunar Mace! Who does that???”

        “Dad! You’re the Principality of the Burning Bones!”

        Broken bones is more like it.”

        “Just go back up there and rip her in half!”

        “After everybody saw this little human knock me across the room? I can’t go back there. They’ll laugh at me.”

        “My sire, you have got to get over this. They’ll laugh at you? What do you think they’ll say when they learn that you’ve spent the last six burnings moping around in your keep?”

        (Nothing against fanfic, but I’m personally more comfortable writing stuff inspired by other people’s work than actually using their characters.)

      • To be fair it isn’t the only eye-eating in my books; there’s that scene in Cormorant Run too.

        And I would absolutely read that fic if you wrote it. Let me know if you do.

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